Disarm / Rafe Cameron

04. He Must Love You

She sighed, rolling away from him and pressing on her phone. It was eleven o'clock. "Eleven,"

Rafe groaned, sitting up in her bed. Layne held onto his forearm like she was going to lose him, or lose anything that happened the night before, and even early this morning. He pushed back his hair with his right hand and reached forward to grab her leg with the other. "D'you think you could drive me home? I promise I'll make it up to you,"

She sat up, and Layne felt the sweat beading on her forehead. How was it this hot, already, in May? She felt as though she might melt into the comforter.

"I mean—why do you need to go home so soon?"

"I'm supposed to go to the course with Topper and Kelce. I also gotta deal with—some other shit, you wouldn't get it,"

Layne huffed and subtly crossed her arms over her chest. "Really?"

"What?"

"Can't you stay for a bit longer? It's only eleven," she leaned her face on his shoulder, but Rafe tried not to look at her. Layne tried not to assume that he was avoiding eye contact, and just was tired. But, he turned his face to her to push a piece of hair behind her ear, and ran his thumb along her cheekbone. "Won't your parents wake up?"

"Since when have you ever cared about my parents?"

He gave her a small smile, grabbing her chin to place a kiss on her lips. Layne thought his kiss was more addictive than the coke he pulled out of his pants pocket, that was discarded on the floor. "Already?" she questioned, moving slightly as he pulled a key. She wasn't entirely surprised that he needed some in order to get out of bed, but it was scaring her that she wanted some as well. She even got a bit excited seeing him pile some of the edge of the key, press it up to his nostril and throw his head back. Layne held onto his wrist, and Rafe poked the side of his cheek with his tongue. "What?"

She almost felt as though someone was pouring hot water down her back. Suddenly she could feel everything sticking to her, even the air, as if it was a blanket that had been drenched in water and swaddled around her. She contemplated negating her idea of snorting some for herself, but ultimately took the key from him and did it herself. Layne forgot she had to drive—but Rafe didn't seem too concerned. "Shit . . . you like how it feels, huh?" he laughed, his hand on her head, moving to hold her face. He kissed her again, but Layne couldn't really feel it. There was regret that stirred in her chest, but it quickly dissipated, she felt safe next to him, even as he fed her something so toxic. But, she couldn't blame him for it—her head was light, but she thought about the first time she got high. Nothing felt as good as that.

Layne reached forward for the bag again, but Rafe pulled it away, a smirk still on his lips. Layne felt like he was laughing at her.

"Slow down, girl," he teased, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand—the other moved down to her leg and squeezed gently. "You still gotta drive, c'mon," he lightly hit the side of her face, and Layne was too busy trying to regain herself to notice it. He had done it before—it different circumstances—but she felt too fragile, and the feeling of his rings against her cheek felt cold and uncomfortable. He wasn't supposed to touch her like that, even if it was a joke, and even if it wouldn't leave a mark. But, her limbs felt heavy, and she felt as though she might collapse if she moved too fast.

Rafe didn't seem to notice how she wasn't moving until he went to put his clothes back on. For some reason, Layne felt as though he was running away—she liked whoever he was these past few hours. She hated him now.