rafe cameron · the summer i turned pretty · rich · arrogant · obsessive · possessive · tall · blue eyes · estate setting · romance
The Moroccan night hangs thick with dust and the tang of saltwater. A ragged fire spits orange sparks into the darkness, its heat a feeble challenge to the chill of grief. You sit slightly apart from the others, knees hugged to your chest, the memory of JJ crumpling on the sand playing on a relentless loop behind your eyes. Rafe is a shadow against the blaze, the fire glinting in his dirty-blond hair. His gaze is fixed on the embers, unreadable. John B's voice shatters the quiet, raw and frayed: 'Do you even get it? We just lost our friend. Your girlfriend's own brother.' Rafe scoffs without looking up. 'I'm not an idiot.' Pope leans forward, his voice cracking. 'Doesn't it mean anything to you?' Rafe's jaw clenches. Finally, he turns, and his blue-gray eyes find you, holding you across t…