Rafe X Barry Novels & Stories

Wait, if i think about warren's condition, I'm sure I'll have a hard time because he's just a kid. Uhh, in the end, I really am just a babysitter, but he seemed easy to scold. "Sure," I replied simply and continued. "Yeheyy!" He said and jumped on my bed. After I packed, we went downstairs and let the driver carry my things to the car. We saw Xianna and Tifanie fighting over something again. "Warren!" Xianna shouted and approached Warren again, tsk. "Do you really like Rafa? What's so good about her? I'm even better than her, eh," she said .

“Means you care.” Then he pushed his hand forward towards me,and I held it. The bar was tucked between a bookstore and a bakery, its windows looked fogged from warmth inside. A trio played on a small stage, an upright bass, brushed drums, a saxophone threading through the hum of conversation. Rafe found us a booth to sit near the back, where the light only shone lazily. “What’s your poison?” he asked. “Surprise me.” He came back with two glasses that glowed faintly red in the dimly lit space. The first sip burned sweet and slow.

Rafe held my hands tenderly, his tenderness broke something in me and I began to cry. "Shhhh.... don't cry baby" he said wiping the tears from my eyes with his hands, " Ivana will be found soon , and you will be reunited with her". I nodded like a child sniffing and scrunching my nose to stop more tears from coming. "He wants to meet us tomorrow at his hotel for a quick briefing. Will you call Zed and tell him about it or would you prefer I do that?" , I asked Rafe as he stood up ready to go back to work at the bar. Rafe was good at bartending, he made the best cocktails and could create magic with the bottles and a shaker; the management of the club just recently promoted him to supervise t

Rafael's bar in the Philippines is the main branch but it is located in LA. Rafael is a top model and a great Chef. Its bar ownership is just a pastime. Its income from the bar is donated by all to various orphanages and homes for the aged. "Tsk!" He drank the glass of wine he put down. "What is it? Looks like you got into a fight ah," "Don't mind me." "Come on, tell me. Maybe I can help." "I don't need your help. I just came here to get drunk." "It's easy though."

he shrugs, “we’re going to help you do that.” “Which,” Rafe says, turning to glare at us a little, “is Jesse’s nice way of saying that we’re going to spend an extra hour kicking your asses every night until you can make the cut.” “Wow,” Ben says, his eyes going wide. “Ohhh no,” I groan, simultaneously, looking over my shoulder at where the showers are probably already filling up with cadets, all of the lovely hot water running down drain… “Come on, Ari,” Rafe says, nodding towards a pull up bar. “You need this.”

Zero bars. “Give me your phone number,” I say to Rafe. He doesn’t move. His ability to remain perfectly still is unnerving. The one who I’m pretty sure must be his brother has the same mastery. “We’ll rendezvous. Ramirez Bar at sixteen hundred hours.” If I had any doubt of their military background, it’s gone. “Who are you guys?” I demand. “We’re nobody,” he answers. “And I’ll ask you to forget you ever met us when this is over.”

When Rafael saw Carissa on the Southern Frontier battlefield, his emotions were a whirlwind of complexity. He would often, almost subconsciously, bring up her husband, but she would avoid the topic. That was when he realized that Barrett might not be treating her well. This thought alone had made his fists clench countless times. It wasn't until later that he learned she had divorced. Barrett hadn't recognized her worth. It was absurd! Rafael committed the name to memory—Barrett Warren, a man unworthy of the gift of sight.

This time the Baretta M9 with a fully loaded bullet chamber. "Those who wish for their own death." Bang “Kyaa… What happened, Rafe?”

Rafe held out his right hand to Enzo seated behind him on his right and said, “No. From my beginning.” Enzo placed a folder full of questions and notes of discrepancies Rafe had finished compiling just that morning in his hand. Rafe placed it down on the table in front of him and opened it, his eyes fixed on the man who stood before him. What was his name again? Rafe was sure he’d introduced himself during the presentation, but thanks to the vixen next to him, he couldn’t remember.

I've still one big, massive trouble to endure that is the divorce matter, bearing Mom and Dad's reactions and interrogations and Rafe's reaction too. "What? Aren't you finding anything interesting to watch?" "Uh-oh." This time I look up and see Rafe standing on my side. I mute the TV, put the remote down and rise up. My pupils enlarge when I see him in outfits unusual to his regular style. I freeze on my spot. He's wearing an ash-grey sweatshirt and dull blue loose trousers. This outfit is displaying his athletic, virile figure; muscular built, strong arms and broad chest. His hair are being messy in a way as if he has ran fingers in them.