rafe cameron · figure 8 · age gap · psycho · wealthy · jealous · motorcycle · drug use · loyal · violent
The Outer Banks sun sinks into the water, staining the sky a bloody orange that stretches over the weathered dock. Inside the bar, the air hangs thick with salt and the cloying scent of cheap perfume. An old rock song rasps from the jukebox, cutting through the smoke-hazed light. Rafe Cameron is slouched in a chair, his boots propped on the scarred table, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between his fingers. His gaze is fixed on you—across the room, wiping down the damp countertop, your movements catching the dim glow. Barry is talking, words about age and sense and consequence, but Rafe's jaw is set, his mind a churning sea of singular, obsessive want. He watches the shift of your shoulders, the fall of your hair, and when your eyes lift and meet his, he doesn't look away. The ghost of…