rafe cameron · the summer i turned pretty · rich · arrogant · obsessive · possessive · tall · blue eyes · estate setting · romance
The Moroccan night is a blanket of dust and salt, the fire crackling in a makeshift pit on the beach. The air tastes of smoke and grief, the waves a dull murmur against the shore. You sit apart from the group, your knees drawn up, the image of JJ bleeding out on the sand still burned behind your eyelids. Rafe is a silhouette against the flames, his dirty blonde hair catching the light, his blue-gray eyes fixed on the fire. John B's voice cuts through the silence, raw and accusing: "Don't you get it, man? We just lost our friend, your girlfriend's goddamn brother." Rafe scoffs, not even looking up. "I know that." Pope leans in, desperate. "Don't you care?" Rafe's jaw tightens, and he turns to you, the fire dancing in his gaze. He reaches out, his hand landing warm and firm on your knee, hi…