CHAPTER FOUR
SPY GAMES
"he hurt me but it
felt like true love"
˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

WHEN John B peered through the ajar door to JJ's room he didn't expect to see his friend's arm draped around a brunette girl. But he wasn't surprised either, simply chuckling as he closed the door softly.

     Fortunately for Farrah, John B hadn't studied the back of her head for long enough to recognize her. He had just assumed she was some random girl JJ had picked up the previous night while he, Kiara and Pope were hanging out at the Wreck begging Kiara's dad for free food. Hopefully, it would stay that way too.

     It wasn't until the rays of sunlight danced across her face she stirred awake. She blinked slowly as she opened her eyes, bracing for the impact of the hangover that was undoubtedly headed her way. It never hit her. The Montgomery girl dreaded getting to her feet, knowing that the probabilities of the hangover hitting her like a truck were high. It took a moment for her to even remember the events of last night, but when she did, panic settled. Suddenly she became hyper aware of the arm draped around her body, their close proximity causing her heart to race. Slowly, she glanced over her shoulder. His normally vibrant eyes were closed as puffs of air escaped his lips. For once, luck was on her side. JJ was still asleep.

     Not before she heard the voices coming from the livingroom of the château did she realize they weren't alone. That's when she made the calculated desicion to gather her belongings and basically throw herself out the window. Fortunately for her, it was early enough in the morning that scarcely any cars were on the road. The walk back home proved to be short— but not short enough that she managed to go the entire walk without puking. She had stopped exactly two times to pull her hair back in order to hurl the contents of her stomach onto the ground. On round number two the only thing left for her to vomit was stomach acid. It aggressively clawed at her throat. That's when she made the vow not to get that drunk in a very, very long time. Note to self; don't drink tequila straight from the bottle. Especially not if they had sombreros.

     The third fortunate thing presented itself in her lap when she stepped into the house using the spare key hidden underneath a flowerpot. That's when the breath of relief escaped her upon realising both her dads were still asleep. She tiptoed throughout the crammed house and into her bedroom, happy that for once, the universe was on her side.

     It wouldn't last for long, she assumed, but she had every intention of relishing in it for as long as humanly possible.

     The last thing that caught her eye before she slipped back off to sleep was the previously vibrant yellow tulips in the vase. They had surely began wilting, a few yellow petals of sunshine decorating her desk top as they fell down. She made a mental note to throw them out before her eyes grew heavy and she was enfugled in sleep once again.

     The second time she woke up that day was to her phone vibrating like crazy on her nightstand. Farrah had put it on do not disturb with every intention of rotting in bed all day, but Lance knew that if he called two times in a row the call would go through anyway. The Montgomery girl mumbled profanities under her breath as she answered the phone. The only acceptable reason for him disturbing her much needed moment to heal from yesterday's event would have been the death of a family member. Spoiler alert, it was not that serious. He simply demanded her presence at some stupid outdoor movie he and Millie was itching to attend.

It was around that time Farrah noticed a pale bruise forming on her neck. Her breath hitched in her throat when her finger tips grazed the bruise. Thankfully he hadn't held her long enough for it to bruise even deeper, but it was going to be one hell of a job to cover up. Farrah used a shit ton of make up to cover it up, and when that didn't work she settled for a turtlenecked top.

     That's how the dark haired girl ended up squeezed between Millie and Lance in the back of Millie's dad's pick up truck, eyes glued to the incredibly boring movie playing on the big screen.

     Farrah was, as expected, dressed to impress. With the exception of the dark sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun. The hangover didn't settle in until after she woke up for the second time. And when it finally hit her, it hit her hard. Lance had laughed at the girl when she insisted on keeping the sunglasses on, making a joke that she was turning into a vampire. Farrah didn't find it a slight bit amusing— which was why she had opted to remain silent for most of the time.

"Why are you dressed like the unabomber?" Millie had questioned when they finally settled down to watch the movie. Her two friends had assumed the odd choice of clothing would come off when they finally sat down. The sweltering sun would without a doubt force her out of the turtleneck, but when she persevered the Parker girl finally decided to voice her question.

"Why are you dressed like a mathlete?" Farrah had shot back aggressively by drawing attention to the fake glasses resting on Millie's nose. The girl claimed the glasses made her look more sophisticated, but in reality it just made her look like an idiot. Anyone could clearly see the glasses were fake— they weren't even cute ones at that. The heat was making Farrah irritable alongside the scratchy fabric of the turtleneck. She was bound to snap, and it was no surprise that Millie was the one to tip the cup.

Lance and Millie took the hint to refrain from asking questions about her choice of clothing and horrible mood from there on out, simply leaving her alone as they indulged in meaningless conversations. It wasn't until the Montgomery girl volunteered to fetch drinks for them all that they spoke to her— only to inform her of their drink order, of course.

Farrah came to realise her string of good luck had died when she saw the bruise on her neck after waking up that morning. From there on out the only way was down. Which was why she wasn't surprised when she got into line to order three drinks only to find Kiara standing in front of her. It wasn't until after she put in her order for the three drinks she decided to acknowledge the curly headed girl.

"Kie." Farrah stated blankly. She was in no mood for the Carrera girl. There was barely any energy in her normally to deal with her, but now? There was just no way.

"You just keep showing up everywhere, don't you?" Kiara scoffed, a scowl morphing on her lips when her eyes fell on Farrah.

"Pipe down, lover. I'm here to get a drink, and I'm way too dehydrated to deal with your bullshit right now." Farrah waved her hand dismissively. The man from behind the counter handed her the two cans of soda and single bottle of water. "Thanks. She'll cover me." Farrah pointed to the Carrera girl before leaving her standing with a look of disbelief.

If Kiara was here, that meant that JJ was too. Wherever she went, her pack of dogs went too. And as much as Farrah wanted to make sure JJ didn't tell anyone about the events of last night, she was not ready to face him. Nor was she ready to face Rafe— which was why she excused herself to the bathroom when she saw his lingering stare on her. She escaped into the women's restroom, locking herself in one of the stalls to collect her thoughts. Her head was hurting from the hangover, and having to avoid two boys all at once was starting to give her a headache of its own. She sat on the toilet seat for a moment in order to collect her thoughts, scrolling through her phone until satisfied. Farrah drew a deep breath, preparing herself to rejoin her friends. Her plans, however, were completely derailed when she opened the door to the bathroom stall.

His tall figure towered over hers as he stepped inside. Farrah looked up at him in bewilderment, her back pressed against the side of the stall as he pushed past the door she had just unlocked. He grinned down at her, a hand on either side of her head to block her in. His azure eyes stared down into her chocolate ones, desperately searching for an emotion— any emotion that would give away what she was thinking. But he came up empty handed, unable to decipher the expression on her face.

     "What the hell are you doing, Rafe?" Her voice was timid yet demanding. The way her eyebrows scrunched as she stared up at him made him go weak in the knees, the crease in her forehead making him want to kiss it away. But, alas, he couldn't. Not after what he did last night.

    "You've been ignoring me." He stated, tucking a few strands of hairs behind her ear. Her hand swatted his away.

    "No fucking shit. You chocked me." She spat back, fire burning in her pupils as she glared at him. Farrah always told herself that no matter what, she would never be a victim. Especially not to someone like him. Rafe was exactly like every guy she had ever been with before, yet completely different all at the same time. And it would be a cold day in hell before she let herself get played like a violin again.

     "And I'm sorry about that. Shit, you know what it does to me when you've got other guys all over you." His attempt at excusing his own behaviour only fueled her rage even further.

     "So?! That warrants to literally assaulting me? Are you sick in the head or something?"

     "Don't say shit like that, Fay. Okay? Don't say shit like that." Farrah was well aware he was using the nickname as a way to soften her. Something about the way he said it, a personalised nickname scarcely anyone else addressed her by, held a special place in her heart. But she couldn't let him manipulate her. Not this time.

     "Then don't act like that!" She fired back, standing her ground. The girl was well aware that she should have been afraid of him after what he did, but she wasn't. It was stupid— standing infront of him like this hurling insults. Farrah wasn't afraid of Rafe, and that's was what scared her.

     "Shit, Fay!" His voice boomed loudly, making her want to shrink back. "I'm trying to apologize, damn!"

     She refrained from answering, instead clenching her fists at her sides. Her nails dug into her palm, leaving numerous crescent shaped scars behind. It was a bad habit of hers. Whenever she was stressed out or afraid she would dig her nails into her skin— sometimes harshly enough to draw blood. It helped her stay grounded in situations like these.

"Fine." She sighed, finally relaxing her clenched fists. She stared up at the boy, watching his face softened at her words.

"Fine?"

"Fine." She repeated. "But if you ever do something like that again, I swear I'll—"

"Thank you." He pulled her into a hug, letting her wrap her arms around his waist. She inhaled, the smell of his expensive cologne taking over.

Sometimes she wondered if she was cursed to feel like this for the rest of her life. Whenever Millie would get into a relationship, or Lance began dating someone new, Farrah would always watch from afar wondering if she was capable of a love like that. It always looked so innocent, so pure. Farrah sometimes doubted that it was even possible for her to experience anything as pure as that. Perhaps she was destined to relive the same, stupid mistakes over and over. She was too forgiving— she knew that, but the fear of being left alone in the end was too strong for her not to be. So she plastered on a fake smile, and settled for what she thought she deserved.

Ever since she began hanging around Rafe it had been like this. He did something to piss her off, so she retaliated, only for him to snap and do something he shouldn't, and in the end she always forgave him. The Cameron boy had this special ability to make her feel special. Even though he would hurt her, she couldn't help but mistake it for love. If he was capable of getting that angry with her, that had to mean he cared, right? Why else get so worked up about something if he didn't care? And that was enough for her— knowing that someone actually did care. Not in the obligated to care way like her dads. They loved her, she knew they did. But they didn't really have a choice. The same with Lance. They were cut from the same cloth, destined to platonic love since birth. But Rafe chose to stick around her despite her many, many flaws. How could she not choose him back?

Lance and Mille had barely noticed how long Farrah had been gone for. She returned to the two, sitting at the far right in the cargo holder of the truck. Millie offered the girl some Pringles she was snacking on, but Farrah declined the offer. Instead, her eyes watched as Rafe sauntered back to his friends. Topper and Kelce were sitting at the very back by the men's bathrooms. The trio was commonly referred to as the death squad around the island. They had the terrible habit of walking around like they owned the place, not hesitating beating up anyone they deemed deserved it. Farrah always steered clear of that, but tonight she couldn't help but to notice the way the three boys were glaring at certain someones.

She followed their gazes only to find anxious looking dork one and two: Pope and JJ. The two boys were sitting next to Kiara, and they were obviously skittish about something. Farrah wasn't sure what it was that made her cast a glance in their direction every now and then. Maybe it was just the terribly boring movie playing, or maybe it was for a different reason. Either way, she couldn't stop checking up on them. That's how she knew something was up when the two boys got up and headed in the opposite direction with the death squad following closely behind. For some stupid, unexplainable reason her brain overrode her decision to stay out of it. It was as if her body had its mind of its own, her feet carrying her in the direction they went. Kiara was a few feet ahead of her, having sensed something was off too. And boy were they right.

     When they rounded the corner behind the movie screen, they were faced with a fight. Kelce had JJ in a chokehold with his arm, Rafe throwing repeated punches to his face. Topper was on Pope, going at him with his fists and kicks. Farrah's eyes widened at the sight as Kiara sprung into action.

"Let go of him Topper!" She yelled out, running to intervene.

Before the Montgomery girl had the chance to rethink her choices, she was doing the same. "Stop it Rafe!" She exclaimed as she grabbed ahold of his arm to pull him back. He barely spared a glance at her as he shoved her to the ground. The dark haired girl flew to the ground with a heavy thump.

Kiara threw herself onto Topper's back, kicking and punching in an attempt to pull him away from Pope. In one swift motion the girl was flung over his shoulder and directly into the ground, groaning loudly at the impact. By the time she hit the ground, Farrah was back up, harshly pulling on Rafe to keep him from hurting the Maybank boy.

"Rafe, stop!"

Her voice was raw from yelling. The Cameron boy reeled around, grabbing her harshly by her wrists. "Stay the fuck out of this, Farrah!" He exclaimed, his face flaming in anger.

Farrah opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't have the chance to. The orange flames danced across the movie screen as it hungrily ate it up, leaving smoke and ashes as a trail behind it. "Fire!" Someone exclaimed loudly, people starting to panic at the sight.

     Topper didn't discard of Pope until Rafe put a hand on his shoulder. "We gotta go." He stated. Kelce dropped JJ as the three kooks began running in the opposite direction. Farrah's legs were cemented to the ground as she glanced between the pogues and the kooks, an internal war raging as she debated who to join. Kiara was crouching at Pope's side in an attempt to help him up while JJ coughed on the ground.

     "Fay, come on let's go!" Rafe called out, causing Farrah's eyes to snap in his direction. He had stopped running, a hand extended for her to grab. She knew grabbing his hand would be like signing a deal with the devil; it would confirm what they had. Two teenagers ashamed of the other, yet both craving the validation. Despite having feared for her reputation if anyone found out about her and Rafe, she desperately wanted for him to want everyone to know about her. Farrah wanted to be flaunted as his girlfriend, for him to be proud of her. Shit, merely a week ago this would have had her feeling ecstatic. But after last night. . . Farrah just wasn't sure. So she didn't grab his hand.

     Instead, she did something completely out of character.

     The Montgomery girl could practically feel his glare on her as she turned away from him. JJ wore a shocked expression when he felt her hand on his shoulder, the other one tugging him to his feet. His blue eyed widened when he realized she was helping him— even more so when he saw Rafe glaring at the girl a few feet away. "Why are you helping me?'

     Farrah looked up at him. Unsure how to answer the question, she narrowed her eyes. "If you get blood on my sweater, you're paying for a new one." She simply stated, pulling JJ in the same direction as Pope and Kiara was going.

     JJ had helped her out, and it was now her turn to repay the favour.

     Farrah knew she would have hell to face when she inevitably saw Rafe again, but right now she couldn't have cared any less.

˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

"Topper, what the fuck is your problem?"

Her words had come out as harsh as she had intended. Though Farrah had yet to speak to Rafe, she was taking the opportunity to rip Topper a new one when she was called over to the Thornton residence to babysit the lesser evil of the two Thornton boys. Ryder was currently rummaging around his room for a new toy he wanted to show off to Farrah, and she didn't hold off to give Topper a piece of her mind.

"Farrah I don't need this bullshit from you." Topper sighed, already on his way out. He pulled a hand through his hair in frustration. Farrah could clearly see how bruised and scabby his knuckles were, no doubt from the fist fight he had just been in.

     "Well that's too damn bad, you're gonna sit down and take it anyway." Topper looked over at the shorter girl, his body towering over hers. In spite of the height difference, Topper felt intimidated by the girl. So he obeyed her command. "What the hell were you guys thinking starting a fight when there are literal families around? Huh? How would you feel if Ryder was there and stumbled upon that scene? I mean really? How old are you?"

     A scowl morphed on his lips. "Don't act like those pogues didn't have it coming for them!" His tone was venomous, eyes narrowed into a glare as he spat the words.

     Farrah crossed her arms over her chest, a challenging look in her eye. "I'm a pogue too, or have you forgotten that? Does that mean I deserve to get my ass beat too?" Farrah didn't even know why she bothered defending them. It wasn't like they were friends. They had even cast her out after she had helped them out that night at the graveyard. Still, something stirred the rage inside of her when she looked at Topper.

     "No, of course not. And you're different from them." Topper sighed, tone softening as he stared down at her. "They sunk my boat, my mother lost it. I couldn't just let them get away with it."

     Farrah's eyes widened at the new piece of information. "They sunk your boat? Shit Top, I didn't know that." She was slowly starting to regret flaming him for retaliating on the pogues. "Why would they do that?"

     Topper shrugged. "Hell if I know. They're pogues, Fay. They just do shit because they think they can. You should really stay away from them." When he referred to them as pogues, it was evident he wasn't talking about Farrah. Still, she couldn't help the way it made her feel, a frown taking place on her glossed lips. The level of disgust in his voice made her stomach wrench. What a pathetic way to feel about her own home. Farrah often wondered if she was condemned to a life of utter shame over where she came for. At this rate, it was appearing to be so.

     Farrah pursed her lips. Topper was probably right. So far, hanging around them had only gotten her involved in stuff that she had no business being involved with; sneaking into a snake infested tomb at night, and running from people trying to shoot them to name a few. The Montgomery girl didn't dare say anything else, simply settling for nod. The thumping footsteps of a little kid sounded as Ryder came running down the hallway, wildly waving a dinosaur toy in the air.

"Look at the dinosaur I got!" The blonde kid happily flaunted the toy, Farrah crouching down to his level with a grin.

"Wow! It looks really nice!" Farrah smiled as the boy continued ranting on about the toy.

     Her eyes slipped over to Topper as he exited through the front door, their conversation fresh in her mind for the remainder of the day. . .

˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

     After leaving the Thornton residence that night, Topper's words were swirling around in Farrah's mind. 

     As much as the girl claimed not to care about anything but her status, fashion and whatever else superficial thing was on her mind, she couldn't stop the thoughts from plaguing her intensely. Farrah was a pro at putting on a mask and ignoring everything that would otherwise get to her. That was why she was extremely annoyed by the fact that she couldn't shake the conversation. She felt like a complete and utter idiot for defending JJ the way she had— especially considering she had turned Rafe down to do so. If she had known they had sunk Topper's ridiculously expensive boat, she wouldn't have been that quick to jump to their aid. Farrah, much like the other person, hated feeling like an idiot.

     She really freaking hated it. One could even go as far as to claim embarrassment as her Achilles heel.

     Her annoyance was what fueled her to march on down to Pope's place. JJ, Pope and Kiara were all lounging together carelessly when the girl approached them. "She looks pissed." Kiara suddenly said out loud. The two boys reeled around, staring wide eyed at the Montgomery girl as she marched in their direction.

The dark haired girl was wearing a yellow low cut top, her infamous 'F' necklace hanging loosely as she made her way over to them. The bruising around her neck had faded profusely over the course of the last days, it was barely visible with the amount of concealer she had lathered on to cover it up.

JJ hadn't spoken to the girl since he let her crash at the château that night. Not that he had any intention to do so either. Farrah Montgomery was a lot of things, but nice wasn't one of them. Despite having enjoyed her company somewhat the last week or so, he knew it was only a matter of time before she snapped back to her complete and utter bitchy self, switching back to the kook she loved pretending to be. The Maybank had found it odd how she snuck out before he even had the chance to wake up, but he didn't sweat it. After she helped him over to Kie's car the night of the movies, he found himself slowly changing his opinion of her. Maybe she wasn't as bad as he thought she was— as bad as Kiara made her out to be.

     Well, JJ was about to learn just how bad she could really be.

Maybe it was Topper's words of " all pouges are evil" that had gotten to her ( ironically considering she was one of them ), but she couldn't fight the urge to really give them a piece of her mind. They had dragged her into this whole thing, making her crawl into a snake infested tomb to retrieve a packages, only for them to not even bother including her in what was actually going on. And to top it all off, they had freaking sunk Topper's boat. Normally she wouldn't have given a rats ass about the boat, but it hindered her from being able to lounge on the water alongside the boy getting a tan. Topper had taken her out on the boat on a few occasions, and it brought her the illusion that she one day could maybe afford one herself. It made everything she wanted seem so possible. But with his boat sinking the reality of her future set in; Farrah would probably stay stuck on the island for the rest of her life, fending for her every meal. And if it was something Farrah loved to protect more than her peace, it was her delusions. It was the only thing keeping her from going insane living in this shit hole.

"Hey pr—"

"Shut up and listen." Farrah cut JJ off immediately. "Did you two idiots sink Topper's boat?"

The question made all of their eyes go wide, and while Pope and JJ wore a panicked expression, Kiara wore a confused one. Her head whipped around to stare at the two boys. "Is that true?!" She urged. They didn't need to answer. Their eyes gave it all away. "So that's why they jumped you at the movies? Shit— how stupid are you guys?"

"We can explain—"

"Save it, Maybank. I don't really give a shit what sob story you have to tell me about why you guys did what you did. Just stay the hell away from me and my friends. Got it?" She had so much more she wanted to say. Yell at Kiara for being a total bitch when she had actually refrained from speaking the ninety percent of the insults she had stored in her head. Tell the two boys off for being so reckless, and in turn letting her mettle with the entire situation. She had rejected Rafe for over this. Over nothing.

JJ moved to open his mouth, undoubtedly to defend himself. But before he could utter a single excuse a cop car pulled up, making him and Pope panic even further. Kiara shook her head in disbelief, now very much aware of why the cops were pulling up. "Regret sinking that boat now?"

"No! Okay? No, I don't." Pope suddenly snapped. "I was delivering groceries for my dad when Topper and Rafe jumped me and started beating me up with golf clubs. So no— I'm not sorry we gave them what was coming for them. They stole the beer and told me 'no pogues on their side of the island'. What was I meant to do, nothing?!"

Farrah felt a pang of guilt erupt in her chest at his words. She had allowed herself to believe every word Topper had fed her only for her to realize this. No pogues on their side of the island. Of course. It was stupid of Farrah to believe Rafe had done something without having already started it himself. And if that was what he really believed— then where did that leave Farrah?

The girl fled the scene when she realised the police was there to arrest Pope and JJ, not wanting to stick around for it. She had a hell of a lot figuring out to do. Somehow she had landed herself at crossroads, wondering where the hell she would go next.

     Farrah felt conflicted. It seemed the war between the kooks and pogues was never ending. Soon enough she was going to have to chose a side, and hope for the hell of it that she chose the correct one.

˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

"Summer agrees with you, Farh."

Lance, Millie and Farrah were all gathered at the ongoing party currently being hosted on the Cut. Stacie Bennet was known for her raging parties, and now that her parents were off at work there was no one around to stop her from throwing yet another one. It was fascinating really; no matter the economical state the pogues were in, they never failed to throw a party. And a good one at that.

When Millie had called Farrah up and begged her to tag along to this party, Farrah was opposed to the idea. JJ's arrest lived fresh in her mind, and after the last time she got drunk, she figured it was best to stay sober before the next party that would inevitably end in a disaster. But Farrah was a party animal through and through, and when both her friends were insisting upon her coming, who was she to stand in their way of her blessed company? Besides— Farrah rarely ever passed the opportunity to get dressed up. It was the way she concealed just how messed up she really was.

     Another person plaguing her mind was Rafe Cameron. After what went down at Topper's party, Farrah wasn't sure what to make of their situationship. He had hurt her before, just not like this. This time she found herself staring into the eyes of a stranger, her mind desperate wondering what the outcome would be. Farrah was an unpredictable individual, she thrived in the chaos she caused. So maybe she was to blame for igniting the fire within Rafe that night. He had a temper, everyone knew that. She knew that. Yet she had thrown the match into the gasoline, giving away any right to complain about the burn it left on her skin. Rafe was an enigma; Farrah never knew which version of him she was receiving. But whether he was angry or happy it didn't matter. Because Farrah knew she would stay by him either way. Just like Lance said the day of the hurricane— she had a thing for the pshycos, and this time around was no different.

     Millie was completely wasted as she danced around at the party. Farrah sat in a lawn chair displayed on the porch of the thumping house, a red solo cup firmly in her grasp. The constant yapping drunk Millie supplied her with had cause her to slip away the first chance she took, resulting in her lounging on the porch all by her lonesome. It was comforting in a way, watching the sun slowly set.

The outer banks, paradise on earth. That was the given slogan to the island. Obviously it referred to the northside, Figure Eight. What with their clean beaches and expensive mansions, who wouldn't find it absolutely beautiful? Maybe Farrah was biased for saying this, but she always found the Cut to be the most beautiful place. Despite growing up dreaming of getting the hell away from the island, the Cut was gorgeous in its very own ways. The beaches were so peaceful at the golden hour and most of the people here were genuine. Maybe it was ironic coming from someone like Farrah, but she craved authenticity in her life. The kind she only seemed to find on the Cut.

The thoughts dancing around in her head suddenly stilled when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. A soft sigh left her lips as she pulled the device out, somewhat suprised to see Rafe's name light up her screen. Farrah weighed her options off a moment, but eventually came to the realisation that if Rafe wanted to talk to her, he would find a way regardless of what she did. So she accepted the call, pressing her phone to her ear.

     "What do you want, Rafe?"

     "Hey, where you at right now? I'll come pick you up." His voice rang through the speaker of the phone. She bit back a scowl at his nonchalant request. It was just like him to pretend nothing ever happened.

     "I'm busy." She replied flatly before hanging up on him. Rafe was probably already fuming after the stunt she pulled by siding with the pogues, what would yet another rejection matter?

Farrah was going to have to talk to Rafe someday soon. What he did to Pope— she just couldn't let it slide. If he hurt her, fine whatever, she could deal with it. But going around beating on someone simply doing their job? Farrah was coming to realise that the comforting blanket that was pretending to be a kook was falling away, and she needed to stand up for who she was. And if Rafe was the kind of person to beat someone up merely because they were pogues, Farrah had to face the music once and for all.

Farrah was going to cut the Cameron boy out of her life, for her sake and his.

word count; 5894
a/n

hello ! here you guys go with chapter four ! we're almost halfway through season one already. times flies. started writing this chapter while at work, please pardon any slip ups or typos ! hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, i had a lot of fun wiring it for you all ! see you in chapter five, stay tuned !

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