Rafe Cameron Imagines (for horny bitches)

jealous

REQUESTED
(don't worry, i saved this outside of wattpad, so if anything happens...)

You sit against the mahogany desk in the upstairs office of Topper's mansion. A cloud of smoke hangs in the room, the only window opened to let it out. The stench of beer fills your nostrils all around, like it's stuck in the carpet.

There are some other people here, most of them you don't know. Rafe Cameron's best friends, Topper and Kelce, linger near the desk, talking and sharing a joint with red eyes. You've just finished your third cup of beer but only feel slightly buzzed.

"Hey," you say to Topper and Kelce. They look over. "Wanna give me a hit?"

The joints burns between Topper's fingers. You can practically see his last two brain cells trying their hardest to comprehend your question. "Uh, yeah," he says.

He hands it over, and you take in with a smile. After you take a hit, you say to them, "Neither of you have a date?"

"She left," Topper says.

Kelce shook his head. He's more bombed than Topper.

"Yeah, why's that?"

Topper shrugs. "She said she had to be up early tomorrow--" He rolls his eyes-- "Whatever that means."

You fake-pout. "There are plenty of other girls here..."

He leans closer and smiles at you. "Are you offering?"

Before you can answer, his gaze moves beyond you. Behind you, Rafe stands in the doorway and looks between you and his two best friends. His eyes darken.

"Hey, man," Topper says, straightening up. Every time Rafe comes around, his friends act like scared dogs bowing to their master. Rafe could certainly be scary, but even you don't cower.

Rafe walks in, pulls the joint from your fingers, and takes a long draw. Since the one hit you took already kicked in, buzzing in your veins, you stare at his lips around the end, and his boney, boyish fingers. You've had Rafe to yourself a hundred times already, but right now, you'd give anything to be that joint.

"I didn't know you were coming," you say.

He hands the joint off to Topper. "I decided to last minute."

"Why's that?"

"Because I knew you'd be here," he says.

You roll your eyes. "Bullshit." But you smile from ear-to-ear, and already high himself, Rafe breaks into a grin. "Topper, give me another hit."

He huffs like he doesn't want to share his weed anymore, but he hands it over. You and Rafe lock eyes as you draw in a puff and let it out through your nose. "Are you serious?" you ask him, about coming here for you.

He lifts a shoulder then drops it. That's his answer.

You frown and turn to his friends. "Topper." You bat your eyes at him. "Since you don't have a girlfriend--would you fuck me?"

"I'd fuck you even if I did have a girlfriend," he says.

You giggle like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard.

"Doesn't mean you're going to," Rafe says.

Both of you ignore him. To Topper, you say, "You'd come to this party for me, wouldn't you?"

"Baby, I'd go anywhere for you." By now, it's very obvious that he's faded--his eyes are nearly shut, and his words slur together like too much ink from a pen.