And somewhere, really deep down in my mind, I imagine entering my small home, closing the door, and turning around to see Rafe standing there, frosting our cake in my tiny apron that made him look so stupid. I imagine him grabbing a pillow and throwing it at me, us eventually falling to the ground, and finally having that kiss I dream of every night.
But, truth is, I don't even know if Rafe feels the same. He is practically a psychopath, after all.
And do I even want him to feel the same way? I mean, of course I do, but that'll just increase my guilt.
God, all I ever feel is guilt.
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I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the sweet, homey smell of cinnamon and coffee. I get up, rinse my face and brush my teeth, and put some clothes on.
"Hi, Grandma," I say when I enter the kitchen.
"You look nice," she says, commenting on my well-thought-out outfit and neat hair.
"Yeah, well," I say, pouring myself some coffee, "I'm doing my best to, like, cover up my inner chaos."
She smiles at me. "Come. Let's go for a walk."
"But... my coffee..." I look sadly at my coffee that I had just finished making.
"Leave it," Grandma says. She notices my hesitation and adds, "we'll walk through Figure Eight and judge rich people's houses."
I grin from ear to ear. "Well, if you insist."
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The two of us walk beside one another in between gorgeous mansions, not doing the judging we had planned on. Instead, we walk in peaceful silence.
"So," says my grandma, "where have you been, Stella?"
Uh oh. Here we go. From my many many years of living with her, I've learned that there is absolutely no point in lying to my grandmother. She always knows.
"Well... uh... for the past few days, me, Pope, Kie, JJ, and this girl named Sarah have been trying to clear John B's name, and a lot of shit happened, and it just took a lot of time. I'm sorry."
Grandma rolls her eyes. "Young lady, you're gonna have to give me more details than that."
I sigh and tell her everything, step by step, detail to detail. When I finish, she doesn't look at me.
"That sounds fun. I was similar to you when I was your age, you know," she says, only amusement and curiosity in her tone. "Always getting into the most ridiculous situations with my friends, ones we never asked to be in."
I stop walking and look at her. "What? You're not mad?"
She laughs. "Of course I'm not mad, hun. You were helping your friend. I would do the same if I were you."
"Really?" I say, astonished. "Wait, so do you believe John B is innocent?"
Grandma scoffs. "I don't believe it, I know it. You wanna know how?"
I nod.
"Well, number one: I know John B Routledge. He sat at my dinner table night after night after night, making me laugh like my brother once did. He may not be perfect, but he's no murderer."
I smile. "Thank you, I'm so glad-"
Grandma lifts a finger up. "Ah!" She says, shutting me up. "I'm not finished."
"Sorry. Please continue."
"Number two: I was a cop, back during when they didn't do it for the money, but for the values. For helping others and making sure this island is as safe as can be. I already have good intuition, but that experience strengthens my certainty.
"Finally, number three," she looks at me. "I know you. And I know I raised you to trust only those who are trustworthy and to love only those capable of loving you back the same way. So there's that."
She finishes, smiling at me. "You understand?"
I smile back at her. "Yeah. Thanks."
I almost tell her about Rafe and explain everything going on there, but before I can, she opens her mouth.
"What happened to that boy who was supposed to stay with us?"
"Oh, his family let him back in," I quickly and impressively lie. "Any other questions?"
"Yeah. So, who did kill the sheriff?" She asks me. I gulp.
I can't tell her that I let a murderer into our home hours before he became one. I can't tell her that her raising me to 'trust only those who are trustworthy' failed.
So I lie once again and say, "Honestly, all I know is that John B didn't do it. I wish I knew more."
"Mhm," Grandma nods, continuing to walk ahead. "Wanna stop for bagels at-"
I stop walking suddenly to stare at the flowers in front of me. I recognize the pretty, suburban garden, and look up to see the front of the Cameron house. And anxiously pacing on the balcony is Rafe.
"What's wrong, dear?" Grandma asks. She looks at where I'm looking and notices Rafe as well. "Hey, isn't that the boy-"
"Yeah."
"What's wrong with him?" She asks bluntly. "My vision is getting worse and worse by the second but I can see from all the way over here that something's bad."
"Yeah, I don't know," I say, watching him pick up a phone much too glittery to be his and reluctantly type on it.
"Something bad's gonna happen," Grandma says out of nowhere, "I can feel it."
I laugh.
"No, I'm serious," she says, looking at me dead in the eye. "When I met that boy, he was alright, but I had my suspicions. Something bad will happen."
"Grandma-"
"Listen," she says, pointing to the house.
I faintly hear Rafe telling his sister, Wheezie, that he hasn't seen her phone.
Oh, shit.
The phone he hesitated to use must be Wheezie's.
And who's trying to get in contact with Wheezie right now?
Sarah.
I gasp a little before turning to Grandma. "Oh my God, you're right. How did you know?"
She looks at me for a moment in disbelief before cracking up.
"What? What's happening? Why are you laughing?" I frantically ask.
"Everything I was just saying was completely bull, but I'm glad it helped," she says, still chuckling at herself.
I roll my eyes, releasing a deep breath. For a second I thought my grandma was a psychic or a witch or something.
"Why are you so suspicious of this house, anyway?" She asks.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," I say, "basically, Ward Cameron killed John B's father."
Grandma's jaw drops and for a moment she just stares at me in disbelief and a bit of horror. Then, out of nowhere, she riles up.
"That lying asshole," she practically growls, face turning red, "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."
"Okay, Grandma-"
"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch!" She yells quite loudly. I quickly shush her and hide behind the Camerons' wall so that no one can see us.
"Shh!" I tell her. "I know, I want to as well, but not right now. Right now I need to follow Rafe and figure out what the hell is going on."
"Spoken like a true Mallard," she smiles, referring to her and my mom's side of the family.
"Aren't I a Vandenburg?" I ask, referring to my dad's.
"Yes, but you're also a Mallard."
"Okay, whatever," I say, eyeing Rafe. "Let's go home, Grandma."
"I need to borrow the car."
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About three hours later, I return to the Cameron residence, this time sitting in a car. I watch Rafe pace some more, probably trying to make sense of his senseless thoughts.
What do I do? He's obviously planning to do something to Sarah, but I don't know when. I can't contact anyone, because last night's storm fucked up the signal, and now only rich people can make calls and send texts. I've even driven to everyone's houses - JJ's, Kie's, Pope's - and not a single one of them are home.
I anxiously tap the torn-up steering wheel, waiting for something - anything - to happen. I wait for literal hours, just sitting, waiting, and overthinking. I listen to overplayed songs on the staticky radio, touch up my makeup, and try but fail to read some book I found in a cubby. In that same cubby, I found nail polish, and I do my nails. Anything to keep me from screaming.
What am I even doing here? I blow on my freshly painted, bright red nails. This was the most stupid decision of my life.
As the sun is about to set, and I begin to think I got everything wrong and just wasted an entire day stalking Rafe Cameron, I hear a motor rev.
Moments later, Rafe, on his motorcycle, rides out from his driveway. It takes me a moment before realizing that I should be following him.
I sneakily follow him and follow him and follow him for several minutes (this takes quite a bit of effort; he's biking even more chaotically than usual) before I realize that he's going in a way that can only lead to one place:
Deach's Point.
During the day, it's known for its trade boats going back and forth, but at night it's known for its violent crimes.
What a perfectly private place to murder someone.
Realizing Rafe's intended destination, I quickly pull over to think. Knowing Rafe, he likely has a gun or at least some sort of weapon with him, so I would be useless. He's also probably high; his reckless and unpredictable biking strongly suggests that. This means that no matter what I do or say, he can't be stopped.
I think and think and think and think until my head feels like it's about to explode.
I stop thinking and decide to look around, as if the answer is somehow right in front of me.
Surprisingly, it literally is.
A few blocks away, in the richer part of this area, is Topper Thorton's house. Knowing Topper, he's probably in his room screaming and crying about Sarah.
But I also know he would do anything for her, so I quickly drive over to his place.
Once there, I run up to his marble doorstep and knock desperately at his door. A middle-aged woman with Topper's dark blue eyes opens it.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you, is Topper home?" I quickly spit out, out of breath.
"Uh- who are you?" She asks, eyeing me up and down judgmentally.
"Name's Stella. As I said, nice to meet you. Now, I am begging you to get Topper here, or else I will start screaming."
The woman looks at me - dumbfounded and a bit disgusted - before calling, "Topper! Some crazy girl is begging for you to come down!"
A moment later, Topper toddles down his magnificent staircase. When he looks up and sees me, his brows furrow with the same judgment his mother had.
"Stella...?" He says. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"It's Rafe," I say.
He shakes his head in confusion. "Rafe... what about Rafe?"
I take a deep breath. "Sarah's in trouble and I need your help."
Topper doesn't hesitate and runs out of his house, pulling me along with him. "Sarah- what's going on? Is she-"
"Yes, Popper, she's alive and well," I pause, getting in my car as the worried boy sits next to me. "Actually, she won't be so alive or well if we don't hurry up."
"So then hurry up!" He yells at me. I start the engine and start driving to Deach's Point. "I can't believe she's really alive..."
"Yeah, well, that's not the point," I tell him as I recklessly skid around a corner.
"Can you please tell me the point?!" Topper yells at me before looking around my car. "And how old is this goddamn thing?!"
"Don't yell at me!" I scream back at him. "And don't yell at my car!"
He takes a deep breath before saying, "...Please. Pretty please, Stella. Explain what is happening."
"Okay. So, to summarize, Rafe pretended to be Wheezie and tricked Sarah into meeting him at Deach's Point," I explain.
"Deach's Point?" Topper asks. "That's-"
"The Fertile Crescent of crime, I know," I say, stopping at a red light. He looks at me, mouth wide open in shock.
"What are you doing?!" He yells.
"It's a red light!" I yell back.
"So?! Run it!"
"Popper, honeybuns, we can't all afford to pay for tickets," I condescendingly explain to him.
"I will pay them for you!" He practically screams at me. "I will tell the cops I was the driver!"
"Okay!" I yell, stepping on the gas. "Okay! Calm down, you could've just said so."
"What's he gonna do to her?" Mutters Topper angrily.
I shrug, hands tight on the steering wheel, driving way above the speed limit. "I don't know. But it's Rafe, so it can't be good."
"You talk about Rafe like you know him so well," Topper says as I run another red. How is everyone seeing right through me today?
"Everyone knows that Rafe is a little... you know-!" I yelp as I curve to avoid hitting another car. "Woah!"
"What the hell are you doing?! Do you even have a driver's license?!"
"No."
"What?!"
"Don't worry! I have a permit," I assure him as I stop the car.
We're here.
"Oh, great! A permit! I feel so safe now," Topper shouts as he gets out of the car. The two of us run into Deach's Point, scanning the area for any sign of Sarah or Rafe.
"There are so many boats," I mutter.
"Let's split up," Topper suggests before running away from me and to the right.
"Um," I call after him, "maybe let's not, but fine!"
I cautiously creep around the port, listening for any suspicious noises. That's when I hear a desperate and terrified "Rafe! Rafe! Rafe!" coming from my left. Immediately, I run towards it.
The next thing I see makes my heart drop and my head dizzy.
Rafe, the guy I keep believing to be better than he seems, is drowning Sarah.
Without hesitation, I scream, "Rafe! Get the fuck off of her!"
He turns around and it's as if seeing me flips a switch inside of him. His smokey eyes caused by his high clear up and sadden, but before I can say anything else, he's on the ground, and Topper is - as his name suggests - on top of him.
I quickly run up to a cold, gasping, and wheezing Sarah, wrap my arms around her, and guide her away a few yards away from the fight, in which I can hear Topper beating the shit out of Rafe. Each small grunt of pain feels like I'm being punched as well, but I suck it up and prioritize my friend.
Sarah leans into me and begins sobbing into my neck, the water from her hair dripping down my back making me shiver. I squeeze her tightly, shushing her gently in an attempt to comfort her.
"Shh..." I whisper. "You're okay now. You're okay. I got you. Everything's okay."
She continues to weep onto me, clinging to me like a childhood blanket. My inner guilt creeps from my chest and up to my mouth.
"I'm so, so sorry," I whisper to the traumatized girl, feeling responsible and guilty and regretful as always. "I'm so sorry Sarah. I'm so sorry."
The punching and grunting noises finally stop, and I grow the courage to look at Rafe. He's lying on the ground, punched up and bloody, just like the day Sarah and John B escaped.
I look up at Topper, who's looking at Sarah and I as if asking someone for permission. Our eyes meet, and during that moment, we exchange some sort of new mutual respect. Well, that might be a reach, but I think we've at least established some trust. I subtly nod at him to come over, then gently lean Sarah into his arms.
"Sarah, are you okay? Can you breathe?" Topper asks her softly, yet also urgently. She nods into his shoulder. He looks back at me. "I have a boat docked around the corner, I'll get her somewhere safe."
I nod. "Take good care of her, okay?"
Topper nods and smiles sadly. "I will. Get home safe."
"I will."
I watch as Topper helps Sarah onto a boat and rides away. As soon as they are out of sight, I look down at Rafe, who is bloody and almost unconscious. His tall, menacing figure looks so much smaller than usual, lying down on the ground like that. The smoke in his eyes has vanished, but I know that it's bound to return.
I hate that.
And I hate him.
In fact, right now I hate him so much that I want to continue Topper's work.
But amidst that cloud of hate is a twinge of pity. Empathy. Whatever you want to call it. And that little thing is powerful enough to send a few tears down my cheeks.
My legs walk themselves over to him and crouch down on their own. I have finally lost control of my emotions.
"Why-" I try to get words out, but as soon as I say that one, I'm forced to stand back up because I need to cry. I need to cry so bad.
But I don't. Instead, I squat back down next to Rafe, my shiny eyes looking straight into his. "Why... why would you do that?"
He looks at me, unable to answer. The only movement in his body is his heavy breathing, sniffling, blinking, and the tears streaming down his bloody face.
"How?" I cry, voice cracking but a little louder now. "How could you do that? What is wrong with you?!"
Now I'm crying - but only a little. I'm crying and I'm screaming at him and I'm honestly considering drowning myself like Rafe almost did to Sarah. "I keep telling myself that this isn't you, and that I saw the real you, and that- and that-"
A sob interrupts my words and I'm forced to take a deep breath. "I keep telling myself that it's the drugs, or your dad, or the pain, but now I'm starting to believe that this is just you!"
Although I'm crying, I keep going; I've never been this expressive in my life.
"Even if this is just you, I still have this... this little, tiny, annoying thought in the back of my head telling me that I can't hate you! Because I know what you're going through, and I've seen your good side, and I just-"
"I want to help you, Rafe. I really, really, really, do. But when you pull shit like this, it just makes me feel stupid, and... and... naïve, and I don't know what I'm supposed to fucking do!" I scream, a tear rolling down my red cheek as I pace, just like Rafe did earlier on the balcony.
He coughs as if choking on his own mistakes. I instinctively lean down over him and wipe the blood and tears off of his face with my sweater.
"Stella..." he coughs out.
"Shh..." I insist, mainly because hearing his voice makes me want to kill him but also because it makes me want to kiss all his pain away.
"I'm so sorry..." he croaks. "Please..."
In an instant, the pity in me overpowers the anger, and I know I can't just leave him here. As I gently rub the blood off his face, my other hand lightly caresses his forming bruises. I can't even control it - it has a mind of its own.
"Come on," I tell him, wrapping an arm behind his back and using my other hand to hold his. "I'm gonna get you home."
I slowly help him to his feet, a little afraid that he will suddenly regain his strength and direct his anger onto me. Luckily, he's not in a rage anymore and he groans in pain every few seconds, so I think I'm fine.
By the time we get to the car, he regains his footing and can get in on his own. We sit in silence as I drive, and the entire time, he stares at me. I gulp and bite my lip, still in fear of him suddenly attacking me.
"Are you scared of me?" Asks Rafe softly out of nowhere, about ten minutes into the drive.
It takes a moment for me to react with, "...what?"
"Are you scared of me?" He repeats, even more softly than before.
My hands clench the steering wheel. I do my best to avoid eye contact with him as he is looking directly into me.
"Yes," I quietly admit.
Rafe sighs before leaning back into his seat and looking out the window. As he does, he groans, putting a hand on his stomach. I ignore him. Then, he looks back at me.
"Wait, could you drop me off at Barry's, not my house?" He asks.
"I'm not your personal valet, Rafe."
"Please? It's closer, anyway."
I roll my eyes. "Fine."
"Okay, turn here-"
"I know how to get there, Rafe."
"Oh. Okay."
As I turn a corner, I sigh, thinking about how shitty everything has gone so far. Of course I just had to lock myself out of the restaurant, and of course us Pogues just had to search for this gold.
The silence we sit in is uncomfortable, so I decide to break it.
"How are you gonna get your bike?" I ask Rafe softly. He groans quietly.
"Shit... I completely forgot," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I'll figure it out."
"Okay."
The silence returns, this time even more awkward than before, at least to me.
"I know I already said this, but I'm sorry-"
"Just stop, Rafe," I interrupt him, still refusing to look into his eyes. "If you want to apologize, I can name several people you should apologize to instead of me."
"I'm not sorry for any of that shit!" Rafe yells suddenly, slamming his hand against the dashboard. I yelp and turn away, that tiny, very much rational fear still creeping inside of me.
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stella. Shit," he says much more quietly, leaning forward towards me. "I'm sorry, Stel."
I sigh again, breath a little shaky.
"What I was saying, is that..." Rafe continues, pausing to collect his thoughts and verbalize them, "what I was saying is that I'm only sorry about you. I'm not sorry for anything else, I only care about you."
I shake my head. I admit, those last few words brighten me up a bit, but not enough.
"You see, that's the problem, Rafe," I force myself to look at him in the eyes. "You murdered someone, Rafe. You literally killed someone and you don't feel bad."
"'Cause I did it... I did it for a good reason," Rafe tries to explain himself, on the verge of tears. "I did it to save my dad. I did it to save my family--"
"I know. I know why you did it. But that doesn't justify killing her, Rafe," I pause for a moment, thinking about my next words. "And... you know your dad wouldn't have done the same for you, okay? He's not who he says he is. He killed Big Routledge--"
"He didn't kill anyone!" Rafe denies, voice loud again. "He didn't kill anyone."
I flinch a little at his volume. "Yes. Yes, he did, Rafe."
"No. He didn't."
"Would you please just listen to me?" I yell, slamming my hand on the steering wheel. "Ward has brainwashed you. Don't tell me he hasn't hurt you. I know he has. I know a shitty father when I see one because I have one myself! Just listen to me!"
Rafe turns to face me. "And why should I listen to you, huh? Why should I listen to you, Stella?"
"Because I care about you!" I blurt out. I quickly pull over to the side of the empty, silent road. "How have you not noticed that yet?! Do you think I would be driving you places like a fucking taxi right now if I didn't? Do you think I would wipe the blood off your face every time you get hurt?! Do you think I would just get over the fact that you literally choked me at Midsummers?! Do you think I would've hugged you and let you crash at my place when-"
I can't finish my rant because all of a sudden, Rafe's lips are on mine.
You know, in the books when two characters kiss and one says it feels like fire or electricity or heaven or infinity or some shit like that, and you smile because you want that for yourself but also die a little bit on the inside because you know that only happens in the books?
Well, it doesn't only happen in the books, and this kiss is proof of that. This kiss feels like every beautiful word a book could describe a kiss feeling like and more. Although we're sitting in my Grandma's ancient ass clunker in the middle of the night in some shady street in the middle of nowhere, I feel like I'm in a million books all at once and every single emotion you can possibly name is soaring through my body. Ecstasy, rage, desperation, regret, hope, guilt, excitement, panic, passion, longing - you name it.
Everything, all at once, summed up to one stupid kiss.
One of Rafe's hands is set on the back of my neck while the other runs through my hair, both touches sending a sweet fire through me. At first, my hands cup Rafe's face gently, then one moves to run through his hair as my free arm wraps around his neck.
It feels like no time has passed at all and like we've been kissing one another for eternity at the same time when I finally back up. As I do, Rafe hesitates to let go of me, like he's itching to hold on. Yet, he does release me a bit, and we look into each other's eyes for what feels like forever until he looks down at my lips.
"Your lips are really red," he almost whispers, out of nowhere.
One of his hands is still placed on my neck while the other is playing with my hair behind me. Our faces are only a few inches apart and one of my hands gently rests on his heart - feeling it's rapid beating - as the other one is placed on his shoulder.
I remain silent, speechless. I don't even know what to say.
"They're really pretty..." he says so softly and so quietly that I almost don't hear him. It's so quiet right now that I can almost hear the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around.
Not knowing what to do, I laugh quietly and look down at his lips. "Yours are too. It might just be blood, though."
He faintly smiles, staring deep into my eyes.
Suddenly, our safe silence is broken by a squeaky, yelling voice coming from right next to me.
"Oi!" Rafe and I break apart from each other and look out of my window to see some Karen with a flashlight yelling at us. She's tapping the window relentlessly, so I roll it down.
She immediately starts spitting in my face, "This is private property, morons. So get your horny asses outta here or I'm calling the goddamn cops!"
"I'm sorry-" I start, but Rafe interrupts me.
"Why don't you get your ugly ass outta here or else I'll call the goddamn cops?!" He says back. He isn't yelling, but his voice is firm and loud. "I know cocaine when I smell it, and I smell a shit ton of it on you, bitch, so get the fuck out of her face!"
He raises his voice at the last sentence, scaring the shit out of the woman. Her eyes suddenly widen; she probably noticed the dried blood around Rafe's nose. "Jeez, okay."
"Get out!"
"I'm going, I'm going!" She says, arms raised in surrender. She quickly squabbles off.
I close the window and Rafe looks at me, expecting a negative reaction, as my mouth is covered by my hand in shock.
"Hey... look, I'm sorry, I-"
I crack up.
Rafe looks at me in surprise before cracking a smile himself. "You think that was funny?"
I'm laughing my ass off by the time he asks me that question. "Hell, yeah, I thought that was funny. Oh my God, she was terrified. She basically ran away from you."
Rafe's laughing now, too. "Well, yeah, I mean... I wasn't gonna let her be a nosy ass bitch. This isn't even private property."
My eyes widen as I stop laughing for a second. "It isn't?!"
"Read the sign," he points to a sign with the words 'free parking'.
I start cracking up again. "Oh my God, no way. Did you hear her voice, though?"
"Holy fuck, yeah. That shit was squeaky as hell. Wait, did you see..."
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For the rest of the ride to Barry's, Rafe and I couldn't stop laughing. At some point, I was laughing so hard that I almost ran into another car, and Rafe and the driver exchanged some unpleasantries. But that just made everything funnier.
"Those were veins popping out of his forehead? Shit, I thought those were branches."
I stop the car at Scary Barry's, where this all began. I can tell Rafe thinks the same thing when I see the look on his face.
"Well, this is bringing back some memories," I say.
"Yeah," Rafe agrees. He chuckles. "'I wish I had Uggs,'" he says in a stupid, high-pitched voice, obviously mocking me the night of Hurricane Agatha.
"Oh, really?" I challenge him, smacking his arm lightly. "'Answer his fucking question, Pogue.'"
"I don't sound like that," says Rafe with a smile when I make my voice low and slurred.
"That was actually quite a good impression of you," I make fun of him, "I'm really quite proud of myself."
We talk for another few minutes before Barry shouts from his porch, "Yo! Who's there?! I got a gun, dog!"
"Shit," Rafe mutters before standing up outside the car and shouting back to Barry, "It's just me, man! It's Rafe!"
"Rafe? Get in here, bro! Who the hell's with you?!"
Rafe looks at me then back at the house. "Just some... uh... hot bitch I got!"
"Shit, Country Club, really? Bring her in here, dog! I'll be waiting!"
Rafe sticks his head back in the car. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Just some hot bitch you got?"
He smirks. "I called you hot, didn't I?"
I shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I'll let it slide. This time."
Rafe pulls his head out of the car and almost shuts the door when he opens it again.
"What? Want some gum?" I ask, holding up a pack of bubblegum.
He looks me in the eyes, dead serious. "You know I care about you too, right?"
I stop chewing the gum in my mouth and meet his eyes. I smile, blushing. "Well, I mean... you're not so good at showing it, but I'll take your word for it."
Rafe smiles for a moment before returning to seriousness. "I'm not messing with you, Stel. And I'm really, really fucking sorry for every-"
I place a finger on his lips.
"Shh," I shush him. "I don't want to think about that right now."
He smiles again, a little bit of red on his face, before gently kissing the tip of my finger. "Okay. See you, Stel."
I smile back at him, cheeks flushed. As he's getting his head out of the car, he bumps it and curses, making me giggle.
"That wasn't fucking funny, Stella," Rafe says with a serious tone, but there's a faint grin on his face. "That hurt like a bitch. How old is this piece of shit?"
"Why is everyone insulting Felicia today?" I tenderly pat the dashboard.
Rafe raises a brow. "You named your car Felicia?"
"Yeah. Just now," I tell him. "After that scary lady."
"You don't know her name."
I shrug. "She just kinda seemed like a Felicia to me."
"Sure, whatever you say."
Yawning, I shoo Rafe away. "Get out of here. I wanna go home."
He gently laughs. "Well, shit, if you wanted me gone that bad..."
He walks over to the house, glancing back at me every now and then. Each time, he has a smile plastered on his face, making me giggle like a little girl.
Oh.
My.
God.
What am I doing?
It's one thing to almost kiss a murderer before he actually murders someone, but it's another thing to actually kiss a murderer after he kills someone. Especially after he almost killed Sarah, twice.
Holy shit. What is wrong with me?
The guilt that disappeared temporarily during the night resurfaces itself as my mind replays through all the shit Rafe has done.
Suddenly, a feeling that I had mistaken for butterflies evolves into nausea, and I quickly run out of Felicia and throw up under a tree.
Back in the car, I buckle up my seatbelt, and exhale deeply.
I'm a horrible person, I think. There's no denying that.
Because loving a criminal makes you just as guilty as they are.