054. on your knees for me

( the fifty fourth chapter )

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Rafe stood outside Olivine's house, his nerves a tangled mess as he stared at the front door. It was early enough in the day that the street was quiet, but his head was anything but. He'd spent the last few nights replaying every moment he'd messed up, every sharp word and defensive glare he'd thrown her way. The memory of her walking away from him at the docks haunted him, her calmness like a dagger to his chest.

He didn't know if she'd even let him in, let alone hear him out, but he had to try. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

It wasn't long before the door opened. Olivine stood there, her expression unreadable. She didn't look surprised to see him, but she didn't look thrilled either. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Rafe?" she asked, her voice steady but guarded.

"I want to talk," he said, his voice raw and low. "Please."

For a moment, she just looked at him, as if weighing her options. Then, with a quiet sigh, she stepped back, letting him inside.

They moved to the living room, where Olivine sat on the couch and gestured for him to sit across from her. The distance between them felt like miles.

"Okay," she said, her tone clipped. "Talk."

Rafe rubbed his palms on his jeans, struggling to find the words. "I... I know I messed up. At the country club, with your family, at the docks. Everywhere. I keep messing up, Liv, and I'm sorry. For all of it."

She didn't respond right away, her gaze steady and unyielding.

"I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "Or spoken to you the way I did. You didn't deserve that. You never do."

Olivine's expression softened slightly, but she didn't interrupt.

"I just... I don't know how to handle this. You. Us. Everything feels so big, and it's like I'm drowning half the time. And instead of telling you, I just... lash out. Because that's easier than saying I don't have it all figured out."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Rafe, I don't expect you to have it all figured out. I've never asked that of you."

"You don't say it, but I feel it," he said, his voice rising slightly. "You're perfect, Liv. You have this whole life ahead of you—Princeton, your family, your friends. And then there's me. A screw-up who can barely keep his head above water."

"You think I want perfection?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "Rafe, I don't need you to be perfect. I just need you to be real with me. To let me in."

He looked down, his jaw tightening. "It's not that easy," he admitted. "Talking about what's in my head... it's like pulling teeth. I don't even know how to say half the stuff I'm feeling most of the time. And when I get angry or feel like I'm slipping, the last thing I want is to drag you down with me."

"You wouldn't be dragging me down," Olivine said, leaning forward. "You'd be letting me help. That's what I want, Rafe. Not to fix you, not to change you. But to be someone you can turn to. Someone you can trust to handle your bad days, just like I'll handle the good ones."

Rafe ran a hand over his face, his frustration evident. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start with how you feel," she said gently. "Right now."

He looked at her, his walls cracking under the weight of her patience. "I feel like I'm losing you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like I'm gonna mess up one more time, and you're just gonna walk away for good. And that scares the hell out of me."

Olivine's chest tightened at his words, and she moved to sit beside him. Slowly, she reached for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. "I'm not walking away," she said softly. "But, Rafe, you have to meet me halfway. This... whatever we're doing... it can't just be two people who occasionally lean on each other when it's convenient. It has to be more."

He nodded, his throat tightening. "I don't know if I can fix everything, Liv. But I'll try. For you. For us."

"That's all I want," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "We're not going to figure this out overnight. But we can take it one step at a time. Together."

For the first time in a long while, Rafe felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him want to try. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Rafe tightened his grip on Olivine's hand as if she might disappear if he let go. She didn't pull away, and that small comfort steadied him.

"I hate how I treated you," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "At the country club, in front of your family, your friends... God, Liv, I hate myself for it. You deserved better. You've always deserved better."

Olivine shook her head gently. "Rafe, I'm not asking you to punish yourself over it. I'm asking you to think about why you lashed out like that. What were you feeling in that moment?"

Rafe leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Everything. Anger. Jealousy. Like I was being pushed out of your life. You were leaving for Princeton, with Daniela and your parents all proud of you. And I was... I don't know. I felt small, I guess. Like I didn't matter."

Her heart ached at his words. She'd never meant to make him feel that way, but she could see how he'd gotten there.

"You do matter," she said softly. "But, Rafe, you can't keep bottling this up and then exploding when it gets too much. You need to talk to me. Even if it's messy or hard to put into words, I want to hear it."

He looked at her, his blue eyes filled with a vulnerability she rarely saw. "I don't know how to do that," he admitted. "I don't know how to tell you I'm scared. Or that I don't think I'm good enough for you. Or that half the time, I feel like I'm just one mistake away from losing everything."

Her fingers tightened around his, grounding him. "Start by trusting me," she said. "By letting me be someone you can lean on, even when you're at your worst. You don't have to carry this alone, Rafe. That's what a real partnership is."

He swallowed hard, her words settling deep in his chest. "I want to be that for you too," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want you to feel like this is one-sided, like you're the only one holding us together. I know I've been a mess, Liv, but I'll work on it. I promise."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That's all I need. Progress, not perfection."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their conversation settling between them. Then Rafe spoke again, his voice hesitant but determined.

"Do you think we can really make this work?"

Olivine met his gaze, her eyes steady and sure. "I think we can," she said. "As long as we're honest with each other and willing to put in the effort, I think we have a shot."

Rafe nodded, her words giving him a sense of clarity he hadn't felt in weeks. "Okay," he said, his voice firmer. "Okay, then. I'll do better, Liv. For you. For us."

She smiled softly and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "We'll do better. Together."

And for the first time in a long time, Rafe felt like he wasn't alone. Like maybe, just maybe, he could be the man she deserved—not perfect, but someone worth fighting for.

Rafe sighed heavily, brushing his hand through his hair as he stood from the couch. His entire body felt lighter after their conversation, but the weight of everything he needed to fix still pressed heavily on his chest. He didn't deserve her—at least not yet—but the thought of losing her completely was unbearable.

"I've got to take care of some things for my dad," he said, his voice low and hesitant. "But... I love you, Liv. I just... I need you to know that."

Olivine's heart softened at the confession, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I know," she said gently. "Just remember that actions speak louder than words, Rafe. Show me."

His throat tightened as he nodded, staring at her like he was committing her to memory. "I'll see you around," he murmured before reluctantly walking out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Olivine sank back into the cushions, her emotions swirling. She believed him—she truly did—but trusting that he could follow through was harder. Still, something about his sincerity made her hopeful.

An hour later, just as she was settling into her thoughts, the sound of a delivery truck outside caught her attention. She walked to the door, confused, only to find a deliveryman standing there with an enormous collection of bouquets.

"Delivery for Olivine," he said, handing her the first of what seemed like an endless stream of peonies.

Her breath caught in her throat as she counted them—twenty bouquets in total, each one more extravagant than the last. They flooded her entryway with soft pinks and whites, the sweet floral scent filling the air. Alongside the flowers was a large basket brimming with her favorite fruits, everything from strawberries to fresh mangos.

Tucked into the basket was a small card. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, revealing Rafe's cursive handwriting:

Livy,
For every day I didn't say it, I'm sorry. You deserved better than my silence, my pride, and my anger. I don't know how to fix us overnight, but I'm going to keep trying. I love you more than I can ever put into words. This is my apology—and my promise.
—Rafe

Her chest tightened as she read the note, her emotions catching in her throat. He wasn't just apologizing; he was putting in effort, showing her that he understood the pain he caused.

She sat down on the steps of her porch, the card clutched in her hands as she looked at the sea of flowers surrounding her. For the first time in weeks, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Rafe was far from perfect, but maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something better.

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Olivine's heart pounded as she rode her bike toward Barry's house. The streets were eerily quiet, the summer heat oppressive even in the fading sunlight. Her mind raced with doubts, but she pushed them aside. If this was what it took to keep Rafe safe, she'd do it.

When she arrived, Barry was lounging on the porch, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes lit up with interest when he saw her approaching, though his smirk was anything but welcoming.

"Hey there, Mrs. Country Club," he drawled, blowing out a plume of smoke. "What brings you to this side of the tracks?"

Olivine didn't waste time on pleasantries. She dismounted her bike, pulled a thick envelope from her bag, and held it out to him. "This is for you. Four hundred dollars. For keeping Rafe away from your... business. No more coke, Barry."

Barry raised an eyebrow, taking the envelope lazily and thumbing through the cash. He let out a low whistle but then, to her surprise, extracted only $100 and handed the rest back.

"Don't need all this, princess," he said, chuckling.

She frowned, confused. "Why not? Isn't this the price?"

Barry shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Let's just say I feel bad for your poshy, broke-ass self. You don't deserve a white man like Rafe. He's gonna ruin you, trust me."

Olivine narrowed her eyes, snatching the money back without another word. She stuffed it into her bag and turned to leave, her chest tightening with a mix of relief and frustration.

As she wheeled her bike off the porch, a familiar voice cut through the thick air.

"Well, well, if it isn't Olivine Heyward."

Her stomach dropped as she turned to see Luke Maybank sauntering toward her, a beer in one hand and a smug grin on his face.

"Didn't think I'd see you in a place like this," he sneered. "What's the matter, princess? Daddy's money not stretchin' far enough anymore?"

She gritted her teeth and turned to unlock her bike, ignoring him.

"Don't walk away from me, Heyward," he said, his voice rising. "I remember when you used to babysit my boy JJ. How far the mighty have fallen, huh? Buying drugs now? God, I've been waitin' for the day your little perfect family finally goes down."

Olivine froze, her knuckles white on the bike handle. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to stay calm.

But Luke wasn't done. "Too good to even look at me now, huh? I'm talkin' to you!"

He closed the distance between them quickly, his hand latching onto her arm. "You better learn to respect your elders, girl. Don't think you can just—"

Without hesitation, Olivine swung her fist up, landing a solid punch to his jaw. Luke stumbled back, his beer spilling onto the ground as he collapsed in a heap, clutching his face.

"Go rot in hell, Maybank," she spat, her voice trembling with fury.

She wasted no time hopping onto her bike and pedaling away, her legs burning as she pushed herself to get as far from him as possible. Her heart raced, but there was no guilt in her chest—only satisfaction.

When she finally reached home, she locked her bike and leaned against the garage, catching her breath. The encounter had rattled her, but she felt stronger for standing her ground. She wasn't going to let anyone pull her down.

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Later that evening, Olivine lay in bed, the events of the day still replaying in her mind. She stared at the ceiling, her body aching from the adrenaline crash. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from her thoughts.

Rafe: Good night, Liv.

Her lips twitched into a small smile as she typed back.

martinolive: Good night, Rafe

A moment passed before her phone buzzed again.

Rafe: Can I call you? I miss you.

Her heart skipped a beat. She hesitated, glancing at the bouquet of peonies still sitting in her room, their fragrance filling the air. Finally, she typed back.

martinolive: yesss

Within seconds, his name flashed on her screen, and she answered, propping herself up on her pillow.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he replied, his voice carrying a warmth that made her chest ache. "You sound tired."

"It's been a long day."

"Yeah, I wanted to stop by earlier," he admitted. "But I got caught up with some stuff."

"Stuff, huh?" she teased lightly, trying to keep the mood light.

Rafe chuckled, though it sounded a little strained. "Yeah. You don't need the details, but... I missed you."

Her heart softened, and she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "I missed you too."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before Olivine decided to tease him. "So, you'll never guess what happened today."

"What?"

"I got a lot of flowers from a guy," she said, her tone playful.

Rafe's voice sharpened, laced with fake curiosity. "Oh, really? A guy? Who?"

"Yeah, twenty bouquets of peonies. He must really like me," she continued, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Okay, now you have to tell me who," Rafe demanded, though there was a teasing edge to his voice. "Who's this guy sending you flowers? Should I be worried?"

"I don't know," she said, feigning thoughtfulness. "He seems kind of mysterious. Bit of a bad boy vibe, you know?"

"Liv," Rafe said, a hint of warning in his tone. "You're not funny."

She finally let out a laugh. "Rafe, you know it was you."

There was a beat of silence before he exhaled, and she could picture the smirk tugging at his lips. "Damn right, it was me. Twenty bouquets for twenty days. Don't act like it didn't work—you're talking to me now."

"It's a lot of flowers," she teased. "I didn't even have enough vases."

"Good," he said smugly. "I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't messing around."

Olivine felt her chest tighten, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the teasing. "It worked, Rafe. Thank you."

They talked for a while longer, their banter interspersed with quieter moments of connection. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope for them. When they finally said goodnight, she curled up under her blankets, her heart a little lighter.

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KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!

this is a lil bit more on the fluffier side but we will get back onto s1's tracks

word count : 2.8k

ENJOY !!
xoxo kiki 💋💋