033. have you ever tried this one

( the thirty third chapter )

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The Cameron estate felt more oppressive than usual. Rafe stood in his father's office, his hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder he hadn't cracked a tooth. Ward Cameron, ever the imposing figure, paced behind his desk with a stern glare aimed squarely at his son.

"You think this is a joke, Rafe?" Ward's voice was sharp, slicing through the tense air. "This family didn't get to where it is by slacking off and running around with your friends doing God knows what. You're almost twenty-three. You need to man up."

Rafe's fists curled, nails biting into his palms. "I am trying," he muttered, his voice simmering with frustration.

"Trying?" Ward scoffed, coming to a stop and leaning forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Trying isn't enough. One day, I'm not going to be here, and if you don't pull your act together, this business, this family name—it'll go down in flames, all because you couldn't focus."

Rafe's head snapped up, his nostrils flaring. "I never asked for this, okay? You think I want to be your damn puppet?!"

Ward didn't flinch, his expression cold and calculating. "No, you didn't ask for it. But it's yours whether you like it or not. And maybe—just maybe—you should take a page out of Olivine's book. That girl? She's got her head on straight. She's goal-oriented, ambitious. She doesn't waste time with childish antics like you do."

The mention of Olivine caught Rafe off guard, his defenses faltering for a moment. "Leave her out of this," he growled, stepping forward.

Ward raised a brow. "Why? Because you know I'm right? She's everything you should be—focused, disciplined, going somewhere. Meanwhile, you're still trying to figure out how to grow up."

Rafe turned on his heel, storming out of the office without another word. His father's words echoed in his mind, stirring an anger he couldn't shake.

Later that evening, Rafe found himself at the country club, nursing a drink. The familiar faces of Topper and Kelce appeared at his table, their expressions smug as they slid into the seats across from him.

"Yo, Rafe," Topper started, a mocking grin on his face. "We saw you the other night. You know, with her."

Kelce snickered. "Yeah, man. Olivine, right? Didn't think you'd stoop so low—messing around with a broke-ass pogue. You feeling alright?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hand gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. "Don't," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Kelce leaned back, clearly amused. "What? It's just surprising, that's all. I mean, you're Rafe Cameron. You've got options, bro. And you're wasting time on—"

Bang.

Rafe's fist slammed down on the table, rattling their glasses and silencing the room. "Shut up," he snarled, his voice venomous. "My business with Olivine has nothing to do with you, or anyone else for that matter."

The tension was palpable, and for a moment, neither Topper nor Kelce dared to speak. Then, with a bitter laugh, Rafe pushed back from the table and stormed out, leaving the two stunned in his wake.

The familiar smell of stale beer and cigarettes greeted Rafe as he stepped into Barry's trailer. Barry was lounging on the couch, a joint hanging loosely between his fingers. He looked up lazily as Rafe entered.

"Well, well," Barry drawled. "Look who's gracing me with his presence. What's the matter, Rafe? Daddy yell at you again?"

Rafe rolled his eyes. "You got anything?"

Barry exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyeing Rafe with mild curiosity. "What, no coke this time? Just sticking to the green stuff, huh?"

"Just give me the damn weed," Rafe snapped, pulling out his wallet.

Barry handed over a small bag, but his sharp gaze didn't leave Rafe. "You better be careful, Cameron. You're behind on payments, and I don't take kindly to freeloaders. You don't pay up soon, I'll take what's mine by force."

"Calm the hell down," Rafe bit out, shoving the bag into his pocket. "You'll get your money."

Barry chuckled, shaking his head. "You know, you've been different lately. Not as much of a mess. What's the matter? Missus keeping you in check?"

Rafe's jaw ticked, his patience wearing thin. "It's none of your business."

Barry smirked, leaning back. "Whatever you say, man. Just don't let her distract you too much. Distractions get people killed in this game."

Rafe ignored him, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out, a small smile tugging at his lips as he read the message from Olivine.

baby: hey, can u come over later and help me pick out a dress for midsommer's? danys out of town, so you're my second opinion for this one!

His fingers moved quickly across the screen.

Rafe: Second best? Yeah, that's gotta change real quick.

The response came almost instantly, a kissy emoji popping up on his screen. Rafe chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. For a moment, everything else faded—his father, his friends, Barry. None of it mattered when it came to her.

He lit up the joint Barry had handed him, taking a deep drag as he leaned against the wall. Tonight, at least, he had something to look forward to.

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Rafe parked his bike just outside Olivine's parents' house, the quiet hum of the engine cutting off as he climbed off. Straightening his jacket, he walked up the familiar path and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for it to open, revealing Mariah with flour streaked across her apron and dotting her arms.

"Rafe," she greeted warmly, her tired smile still radiating its usual kindness. "Olivine's upstairs, and her door should be open. Don't make her overthink it too much, alright?"

He chuckled lightly, nodding. "No promises."

Before he could step inside, Mariah reached up and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "You're a good one for helping her out. Go on now, before I put you to work in the kitchen."

"Thank you, Mrs. Heyward," Rafe said, flashing her a rare but genuine smile before heading upstairs.

He reached Olivine's door and pushed it open gently, revealing her perched in the middle of a sea of dresses and heels, focused on undoing her braids. Rihanna's "Needed Me" played from her speaker, the steady beat filling the room.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Is this what fashion crisis mode looks like?"

Olivine glanced up, startled for a moment, before rolling her eyes. "Rafe," she said, dragging out his name. "Don't sneak up on me."

"Door was open," he countered, stepping inside. "So... this is what I'm here for? Playing dress-up consultant and hair assistant?"

She held up a tangled braid in mock frustration. "Unless you want to watch me have a meltdown, yes."

He crouched beside her, scanning the chaos of fabrics and shoes before his gaze shifted back to her hair. "Let me help," he offered.

Olivine raised a skeptical brow. "You? Do you even know what you're doing? Have you ever handled hair like mine before?"

Rafe shrugged, running a hand through his own hair. "Nope. But I'll learn."

With that, he sat down beside her, shifting to get comfortable. As he moved, his foot caught on the sharp edge of one of her heels, and he let out a sharp grunt of pain.

Olivine burst into laughter, covering her mouth as she saw his exaggerated scowl. "You okay, tough guy? Or should I call for backup?"

"Are you a masochist, or do you just leave weapons lying around?" he shot back, nudging her with his elbow.

She lightly smacked his leg. "Just sit still and listen, or I'm kicking you out."

He grumbled but obeyed, settling next to her. Olivine handed him a braid and patiently explained how to undo it. His hands worked clumsily at first, but after a few minutes, he seemed to get the hang of it.

"This is too easy," he declared with a hint of smugness.

Olivine snorted. "Unbraiding's the easy part. Braiding is the real pain."

He nodded thoughtfully, his fingers carefully unwinding her hair. As they worked, Olivine began to recount her day, the small details spilling out in her usual animated tone. Rafe listened, his gaze focused on her hair, but his slight nods and murmured acknowledgments proved he was paying attention.

As she leaned forward slightly, Olivine caught a faint whiff of his scent and froze. "Wait..." She leaned closer, mock horror crossing her face. "Did you seriously smoke weed before coming here?"

Rafe didn't even look up, humming softly in response as he focused on the next braid.

She giggled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

"Concentration aid," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched into a faint smile.

Olivine sighed, leaning back and letting him continue. "You're lucky I like you. Otherwise, I'd kick you out for stinking up my room."

"Guess that makes me very lucky, then," he teased, glancing up briefly to catch her eye before going back to his task.

Olivine couldn't help but laugh again, a warm sense of ease settling between them as they continued. It was in moments like this—quiet, domestic, and unhurried—that she realized how much she enjoyed his presence, despite all his chaos.

As Rafe continued working on Olivine's hair, he noticed her gaze flicker to him. She raised an eyebrow, her hands pausing as she looked him up and down. "So, what's your deal for the night? Got a suit or something?" she asked, her voice a little teasing.

He gave a low chuckle, glancing up at her with a smirk. "Yeah, baby blue," he replied casually. "You'll see soon enough."

"Baby blue?" she repeated, her tone filled with curiosity and amusement. "That's a bold choice, Rafe."

"Bold's the game," he said with a wink, getting up to help her clear up the mess of dresses and heels around them. They both began picking up the discarded clothes, Olivine gathering the braids and tossing them into a plastic bag. As she was busy, Rafe's eyes wandered to one of the dresses strewn across the floor—a baby blue one that caught his attention.

He picked it up, studying the fabric. It had a fitted bodice that flowed into a loose skirt, the kind of dress that made a statement but was still effortlessly elegant. His eyes flickered back to Olivine as he held it up. "This one," he said, a devilish grin forming on his lips. "You should wear this one."

Olivine gave him a skeptical look, still focused on gathering the mess. "You think so? I mean, I don't know if it's really my style—"

Before she could finish, Rafe continued, "Oh yeah, definitely. And when you do, I'll be the one bending you over the tables at the country club," his voice low and teasing.

Olivine's eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she stared at him in disbelief. "Rafe!" she gasped, her face turning a deep shade of pink. "You cannot say stuff like that!"

She grabbed one of the nearby pillows, not missing a beat, and threw it straight at his chest. It landed with a soft thud, but Rafe didn't budge, still laughing.

"You think I'm kidding?" he teased, catching the pillow and tossing it back at her, his grin wide. "I'm not the one who wore a dress like this to not turn heads."

She held up a hand in mock surrender. "Alright, alright," she said, still flustered but grinning despite herself. "But don't get any ideas, Cameron."

Rafe smirked at her, tossing the dress back onto the bed. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. "What can I say, Olivine?" he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "You're not just any girl. You've got that look about you."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smile. "You're insufferable."

Rafe laughed, the tension between them softening into something more comfortable. "Only because you like it."Olivine shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. She stood up, brushing off her skirt and glancing at Rafe, who was still leaning against the wall with that same cocky grin. "You're ridiculous," she muttered, though her voice carried a teasing lilt.

Rafe uncrossed his arms and took a step toward her, his expression turning a little more sincere. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But you like me ridiculous, don't you?"

Olivine raised an eyebrow, her heart beating a little faster at his words. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she caught a glimmer of something in his eyes—something deeper, something more vulnerable than his usual playful bravado. It made her pause for just a second, caught between teasing and something else entirely.

Instead of responding directly, she glanced back at the dress he had picked up. "So, what's the real reason you want me to wear this one?" she asked, trying to shift the mood back to something lighter. "Just for the 'bending over tables' comment?"

Rafe chuckled, stepping closer to her again. "Nah," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of sincerity. "It's because you'll look amazing in it, Olivine. You've got that... effortless beauty. You wear anything, and it looks like it's made for you."

She blinked, taken aback by the compliment. "Rafe, you—"

Before she could finish, he cut her off with a grin. "I'm serious. You can fight it all you want, but you're too damn beautiful to ignore."

She felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks, and for a brief moment, the playful banter between them faded. It was just her and Rafe, the lingering tension between them thickening the air.

"Fine," she said, clearing her throat and trying to regain her composure. "I'll wear the dress. But only because I know you'll actually leave me alone about it for once."

Rafe smirked, clearly pleased by her agreement. "That's the spirit." He stepped back, giving her space to finish getting ready. "Besides, it's not every day I get to be right about something."

Olivine laughed softly, grabbing the dress from the bed. "We'll see about that."

As she walked toward the bathroom to change, Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following her movements with a mixture of admiration and affection. It was subtle, but it was there—the softening of his demeanor when he was with her, the way his walls came down just a little more with every passing moment.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Rafe ran a hand through his hair and sighed, trying to shake off the sudden surge of emotions. He wasn't used to this—being so vulnerable, even just with her. But something about Olivine made him want to be.

He heard the sound of the shower running through the door, and his mind drifted back to their earlier conversation. "You'll look amazing in that dress," he repeated softly to himself. It wasn't just about the way she looked on the outside—it was the way she made him feel on the inside, something he hadn't expected when he first started this... whatever this was between them.

As Rafe waited for her to finish, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things with Olivine were more than just a passing fling. Something about her made him want to be a better version of himself, even if he wasn't entirely sure how that was supposed to look yet.

And for the first time in a while, he felt like he might just be ready to figure it out.

Rafe had just finished admiring the dress Olivine had tried on when Mariah's voice called out from downstairs.

"Rafe, come try these! I've got mochi and tiramisu cake for you!" Mariah's voice floated up the stairs, full of warmth.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, glancing at the door where Olivine was finishing up in the bathroom. He figured he'd take a quick break, so he gave one last look to the dress, his thoughts lingering on how stunning she looked in it, before heading downstairs.

Mariah greeted him with a wide smile, hands busy with a plate piled high with mochi and tiramisu cake. "Have you ever tried this one?" she asked, almost excitedly, before gently pressing a piece of the tiramisu into his mouth.

Rafe chewed slowly, savoring the rich flavor. "Not bad," he admitted with a grin. "It's good."

"Good?" she asked, pushing another piece toward him. "It's great! You need to eat more, Rafe. You're too skinny." Mariah studied him for a moment before adding, "You should stay for dinner tonight. It'll just be Olivine, me, and Noland will be home real late. You can stay over, if you want. I've got some of Noland's old clothes that you could borrow, and I'll make plenty of food."

Rafe nodded thoughtfully, savoring the last bite of cake. He was about to respond when he heard footsteps above him and then Olivine appeared at the top of the stairs. She was dressed in a bandeau top and booty shorts, her hair piled up in a messy bun, clearly deep into a beauty routine with a hair mask still in her hair.

She looked over at Rafe and Mariah. "Whose staying for dinner?" she asked casually, picking up a piece of mochi and popping it into her mouth, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Mariah answered quickly. "Rafe's staying over tonight so you don't feel lonely," she said, shooting Rafe a playful wink. "Isn't that nice?"

Rafe raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but smiled, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I'd be honored," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "And if I can help with anything, I will."

Mariah shooed him away with a laugh. "Go on, you should hang out with Olivine for a bit. I'll call you if I need anything."

Rafe shot a glance at Olivine, who was now leaning against the wall, munching on the mochi. He walked over, his hand gently brushing hers as he passed, feeling the connection between them pulse for just a second. "You heard her," he said with a smirk. "I guess we're going to hang out."

Olivine raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Don't act like I'm a responsibility," she teased. "But I suppose I can tolerate you for a little while."

Rafe chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he followed her into the living room. He wasn't sure what he expected from tonight, but it felt... different. Being here, with her, with Mariah's warmth filling the house and the casual normalcy of dinner, he couldn't help but feel like maybe he was stepping into something he wasn't quite ready for. But that didn't stop him from wanting it.

As they sank into the couch together, Rafe glanced over at her, watching her relax into the cushions. "So, what do you want to do?" he asked, a playful edge in his voice.

Olivine shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're the one with all the suggestions." She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "But if you want, we can just talk. You know, like regular people do."

Rafe grinned, his gaze softening. "I can do regular," he said, his voice quieter now. "But only if we can make fun of Mariah's cooking later."

Olivine laughed, her shoulders shaking with the sound. "Deal," she said, her smile wide. For a moment, everything felt simple. Just two people enjoying each other's company. It was rare for him, this kind of peace, but it felt nice.

As the evening went on, Rafe found himself more at ease than he expected. Maybe it was the comfortable banter between them, or the way Olivine seemed to effortlessly ease the tension in his chest. Whatever it was, he knew one thing for sure: being here, with her, felt like the kind of normal he hadn't realized he needed.

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KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!

bring on the second chapter!!!!

word count : 3.3k

ENJOY !!
xoxo kiki 💋💋