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Kiara didn’t mean to drink so much.
She hadn’t downed this much warm, shitty beer since she had no friends and the kooks were busy spray painting rat on her locker- maybe not even then. But this was the first time in three weekends that her parents had let her out of their sight, they were off the island in the middle of nowhere, fed and clothed, and she was alive.
If her eyes kept drifting to JJ, where some cute blonde had sidled up near him across the bonfire, well, then that wasn’t her fault. He was right in her view regaling the crowd with some batshit story, and the girl looked nothing like Kiara next to him, but that was fine.
She stopped looking after her third beer. Or was it her fifth? If she stopped seeing them, she wouldn’t have to glance up and not see them.
At some point when the music had begun to peter off and a few of the tourons had crept back home, Kiara stumbled to her feet. Maybe to search for John B. Maybe to get another beer, or just to have a break from not laughing at whatever it was Levi from Tennessee was going to mutter in her ear next.
The amount of alcohol made her head spin at the change in position, and she swayed around. Waved to so and so from Kildare High that she didn’t recognize but totally pretended to. The sand felt uneven beneath her feet, a little like she was rocking on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Where was she going again?
She might have been somewhere vaguely near the keg, but as she went to lift her cup, someone brushed into her and it plopped down onto the dirt, spilling whatever drops of liquid may have remained inside. She stared down at it, lip poking out a bit.
It was going to be so fucking spinny to bend over and pick it up.
An arm swam before her eyes, shoving her fallen red solo cup into another one. A yellow bracelet she’d weaved wrapped around his wrist, and her gaze trailed upwards to where the firelight cast his face into appealing angles. He looked like a painting, and she wondered how he’d react if she told him so.
“Uh, excuse me. $500 for littering,” JJ said, in a voice that may have been imitating her.
She scowled. “I dropped it.”
“Is that what the turtles would say?”
“The turtles would say you should fuck off.”
He laughed, and the sound was contagious, breaking whatever harsh lines her face had been folded in into a grin. Something about her expression made him laugh even harder. “Dude, you’re like so wasted right now.”
“It’s a party,” she emphasized, wobbling a little, but unashamedly placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His chin dipped down, eyes following her touch. Her gaze narrowed on him, and her smile was over exaggerated. “Surprised you’re still here, though.”
“At a party? I love parties.”
“And other things,” she muttered. Or rather blurted.
“Hm?” JJ hummed, absentminded. They’d started walking, somehow, probably drifting nowhere like always.
“That girl who was all over you.” Kiara didn’t mean to wrinkle her nose so violently, but okay, she’d never been one who was able to hide what she was feeling. When she had more than a few beers in her, any semblance of control was out the window.
JJ’s brows shot up. “Wait, do we have a vendetta against her, or something? I thought she was a touron.”
“I just don’t like to see you mack, is all,” Kiara slurred. Then somehow summoned the foresight to correct, “To see any of you mack.”
There was a pause, and then JJ clicked his tongue, avoiding her eyes. “Good thing there was no macking tonight.”
“You struck out?” Any ability to hide the glee in her voice was lost on her. A wide, drunken grin stretched across her face.
He stared at her, and she thought maybe there was an odd look on his face. “Somethin’ like that.”
“Good thing I’m here, I guess,” Kiara said sarcastically. Possibly sarcastically.
They’d come to another stop in the sand, and the noises from the party had already died down, leaving his silence deafening. JJ’s shape was highlighted only by the stars and the moon, now, and she could just see him adjust the way his hat sat on his head. He cleared his throat.
“I was actually coming to get you. John B’s leaving, so if we want a ride we gotta split.”
“Huh. Boring.”
“I know. He’s lame without Sarah.”
Sarah was– Kiara couldn’t remember where she was anymore, actually. But tonight it was just the three of them, and John B could hardly function without the blonde attached to his hip nowadays.
Pope and Cleo had sat this one out too. Something about helping Heyward with a haul at dawn, or something.
Kiara threw up her arms, letting them fall back down and smack her thighs. It felt a little like she was moving through jelly. “Fine. Let’s go then.”
“Alright, let’s see if you can make it to the car.”
“I can make it to the car,” Kiara argued, kicking sand at the back of his calves as he moved to walk away. She missed badly, and the motion made her stumble. His sniggers carried through the air.
The world waved more than a little bit as they walked, but the breeze was warm and the crack of the waves in the distance felt like home. Her eyes landed on JJ’s back in front of her. He was broad and corded in under one of his favorite gray cut offs, blonde hair tucked into a backwards army green cap.
One second she was tracing his lines with her eyes and the next she was bounding forward. She whistled to get his attention, or rather attempted a whistle that came out more a shriek.
He’d hardly had time to turn his head before her arms were flying, wrapping around his neck. The length of her legs awkwardly clambered for a grasp around his middle before his hands hooked reflexively under her knees.
“Goddammit,” JJ hissed, adjusting his stance, but he took an obedient step forward. And then another. “What do I look like, a free pony ride?”
“Yes,” she said, and the thought made her laugh. He muttered something under his breath, but even in her state she knew he wasn’t really pissed. “Shit, you almost fell right over.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
She pressed her face into his neck. Inhaled the familiar scent of salt and smoke and warmth, and her belly curled. She wondered why they didn’t do this more often.
“Mhmmm. You smell good.”
There was a hush. JJ adjusted his grip on her thighs, fingers like hot coals where they danced just below the seam of her shorts. His chest twitched beneath her fingers like he was clearing his throat.
“Damn right I do,” he said, and his voice sounded fuzzy, like the soft fabric of his worn shirt under her grip.
Something about this was very funny. She giggled, head pressed forward again, and allowed her lips to brush the band of skin between the collar of his shirt and the curl of his hair.
There was a jolt, like JJ had nearly tripped on air, and her giggle turned into a scowl. “Hey. Don’t fucking drop me.”
“I’m not gonna drop you–”
“I was slipping.”
“Were not.”
They drifted into silence, and Kiara was sucked into the weight of them swaying back and forth. How warm and hard he felt under her, and the thrum of what might have been his heartbeat under her fingers.
His thumb tapped her thigh. “Hey, if you hurl all over me I better be compensated for this shirt.”
“What are you guys doing?” a familiar voice called. Kiara could just make out John B lounged in the driver’s seat, hands thrown up. “And no hurling in the twinkie.”
“And emotional damage, too,” JJ added.
“I’m fine,” she said, sliding clumsily down JJ’s back and flipping them a bird with her free hand. Her other hand was busy being wrapped in JJ’s shirt, pulling the collar tight around his neck so she could maintain her balance.
“Yeah, okay.” JJ slung the door of the twinkie open, motioning for her. “Get in the car.”
She swatted at him with the hand she’d flipped them off with, sliding into the musty old back seat. JJ leaned forward, half in the car with her as she tried to adjust herself, her head spinning.
“Legs.”
“I know how to get in a car.”
His hands hesitantly danced over hers, and for some reason she couldn’t process why that was. Finally, his grip fell on hers more firmly, and she realized some of her fingers were still fisted in his shirt. “Now let go–”
“Jesus, would you just get in with her?” John B begged, eyeing them in the rearview mirror.
“I really don’t appreciate how demanding both of you are right now,” JJ said, but crawled in next to her regardless.
As John B spun out of the parking lot, Kiara finally had the sense to drop her hold on JJ’s shirt. Her hand felt empty, a little like she wasn’t anchored, but her arm was pressed into his from shoulder to wrist, and that was sort of enough. She nearly let her whole weight flop over on him when they rounded the first curve, but he surprisingly made no comment. Instead he shifted around, draping his arm over the back of the seat and letting her lean further into him.
She felt his chest rumble every time he said something to John B, and it was nice. She thought she might not mind feeling it again.
Her head lulled, and she might have entered the area between wake and sleep, because the next thing she knew, JJ was shaking her shoulder. “Hey. Rise and shine.”
“I’m awake,” she slurred.
He half pulled her out of the van, his hand on her elbow. It struck her as quite funny how gentle his grip was. How it contrasted to the padded calluses on his fingers and the quick temper he carried around the cut like a weapon to be wielded.
She was still grinning at this thought when they banged through the screen door, and JJ shook his head at her. “You’re gonna be feeling this one in the morning.”
“Stupid things and good outcomes,” Kiara muttered, and he huffed a laugh. She thought she got it mostly right.
The boys made eye contact over her head.
“Sleep it off,” John B concluded, and JJ gave a nod of agreement.
He led her over to the stiff old pullout that she might as well call her own (second only to JJ’s claim on it), hand still on her elbow. Good thing, too, considering the way she nearly went right over the other side when she plopped down.
John B tossed a moth eaten blanket at her from his closet. It smelled musty, and more than a little like mothballs, but she’d used it dozens of times over the years. It was more comforting than any of the silk bed sheets Anna had bought her at the change of a season.
JJ dropped on the pullout next to her, maybe trying to help her adjust her blanket or maybe because she hadn’t let go of his arm, but she was on him in a flash. Her head nestled into his shoulder, and he stiffened like a board beneath her. He recovered quickly enough, leaning half up on his elbows to tuck the blanket in around her and notably between them.
“Really can’t keep your hands off me, huh,” JJ said.
“You feel nice.”
JJ was rendered strangely silent, and John B blinked down at them like they had a total of six heads in between them. “God, okay. You know what- I’m going to my room.”
“Good riddance,” JJ called after him, and Kiara snorted into his shoulder.
“Living room duty means vomit duty,” John B echoed, and then his bedroom door slammed.
It was just her, the silence, and the warmth of JJ beneath her again. She twisted around, adjusting so her arm wasn’t placed so awkwardly beneath her. He twitched. “Are you-”
She cozied back up to him, and he cut himself off.
“Let me know if you need the blanket.”
“Alrighty then,” JJ said. Kiara felt him looking down at her, but her eyes had already begun to drift closed. “I’m good.”
He shifted underneath her, and her face screwed up, already preparing a complaint, but he just moved to throw his cap down off the side of the pullout. He threw the arm opposite her behind his head, like he was getting comfortable. Preparing to stay there for a while.
Her heart swelled with affection. She wiggled closer, catching the scent of the Boneyard again, and he was so warm.
She decided this was a nice way to fall asleep.
“Love you, J,” she heard herself mumble, voice still heavy with alcohol and a little sleepy.
He stiffened under her cheek, and she was suddenly wide awake. There was a beaming, bright tunnel cut through her alcohol induced haze that screamed oh shit.
Sober Kiara would have brushed it aside more smoothly. Played it off as the same as any of the times she’d told the boys she loved them. Drunk Kiara had no such finesse.
“This couch is kind of ass,” she said loudly, clumsily.
He still didn’t budge. “Oh yeah, for sure.”
There was nothing overtly incriminating about his words, but Kiara found herself growing hot and prickly. She pushed herself off him, wanting to put miles between them and somehow failing to drop her grip on his collar at the same time.
“What?” she snapped. “I love my friends.”
His response took too long. In fact, everything seemed to be happening in such slow motion she almost missed it when he said, “Course you do.”
“As friends.”
“Heard you the first time.”
They stared at each other across the few inches that separated them. The only light leaking through was from the half shut bathroom door down the hall, but it was more than enough for her to track the way his tongue shot out to lick his lip. The pad of her finger dipped just underneath the collar of his shirt, and oh. She hadn’t even realized she was still touching him.
Kiara wasn’t sure which of them moved. Probably her. But one second they were still, a look in his eyes like the crash of the waves from the beach, and the next their mouths were falling together.
It was clumsy, and it tasted a little of salt and the tang of bad beer. His lips were pliant under hers, but unmoving, and she slid her hand up the back of his neck to pull his face closer. It was slightly sticky from the salt air of earlier, but she didn’t care.
A breath slipped between his lips, and then he was responding. His fingers gripped her shoulder, the cool snap of his rings a thrill against his heat.
Yes, Kiara thought.
Just as quickly, JJ was pushing her away. Ruining her little alcoholic fantasy.
“Kie, you’re really drunk,” he said, almost like a man begging. She was still close enough to lean forward and lick the curve of his neck if she wanted to. She just might have, if he wasn’t holding her back.
Her brows pinched together, and she half-heartedly attempted to invade his space further. “So are you.”
His whole body seemed to shudder, and he notably had not taken his hand off her. Maybe to keep her from kissing him again, but it was something.
“You’ve given me the consent spiel so many times–”
“I’m consenting,” she argued, and she would have normally rather curled into a ball and died than sound like this.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s how it works.”
His eyes darted frantically over her face.
The reality of what had just happened broke through the haze a little bit then. Sober Kiara was going to hate her.
“Fine. Forget it.” He didn’t want to kiss her. That was fine. No, it wasn’t, but luckily her jumbled brain couldn’t wrap around all the reasons that was, or all the ways she was going to regret this tomorrow. “Sorry.”
Kiara scooted away from him on the couch, at least as far as she could manage. The mothball smelling blanket bunched up around her face, and she wondered if she could hide in it forever. She’d like to turn her back on him, but her head was screaming at the mere prospect of that much motion.
“Hey,” JJ said, in what had to be the softest voice she’d ever heard him use. His fingers hovered near her cheek, and they might have been trembling. Finally, he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and her eyes drifted back to his like magnets. “No, that’s not–” He let out a choked laugh. “I’d never, uh. Not want to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed the apple of her cheekbone, and then stilled again. “Uh. Can we like– Could we do this when you’re not wasted?”
She managed another smile. Emboldened by the beer and the way he was looking at her, she said, “Kiss?”
“No-” She frowned, and he corrected course. “Maybe? If you like… Wanted to.”
Kiara took him in. The perfect curve of his nose, and the little scar above his eyebrow that he’d had since they were twelve. She turned her face a little, nuzzling into his palm, but not quite dropping a kiss on it.
“I do.”
Her eyelids were drooping again. She wiggled back in a smidge, so her forehead rested against the curve of his arm. There was a sense that he might still be watching her, like he wasn’t quite as trashed as she was, but there was no time to dwell on it before the night finally caught up with her.
Kiara peeled open her eyes. Her temple was bounding, and her tongue was heavy in her mouth. She wondered if she pretended to go back to sleep, she could play off the entire night before as one giant, embarrassing as hell dream.
There was a half full blue Gatorade laid out on the coffee table, blatantly left for her.
She ran a hand over her face. The light leaking in from the windows felt like a bitch. “Shit.”
Eyes bored into her from across the room, but as soon as she looked up, JJ averted his gaze. He was propped on the counter beside the toaster, one palm braced against it, the other way too interested in fiddling with a knife. Nowhere near as smoothly as Cleo would have, and definitely nowhere near as smoothly as he liked to think.
“Mornin’,” he said, gaze firmly on the knife.
She studied him. Still in the same clothes from last night, blonde hair sticking up all over the place in a way that was somehow still flattering. His fingers began to tap a rhythm on the counter under her watch.
“Kie,” John B’s voice called from behind the fridge, strangely muffled and totally oblivious. The door slammed shut, magnets jostling, and he appeared, an Eggo hanging out of his mouth. “Glad there’s no puke.”
She gave him a pained thumbs up.
The toaster beeped, and JJ jumped into action. Stuck his fingers out once, flinched a little from the heat, and then went back in for a second go, somehow managing to flop two Eggos onto a plate. He waved it in the air.
“You can have these,” he said, as she grabbed the Gatorade, slowly forcing herself to her feet. “You’re always telling me to eat and shit when I’m hung-over.”
The walk to the kitchen wasn’t a pleasant one. John B obviously poured two glasses of orange juice, and JJ turned to dig out the last two Eggos from the bottom of the box. Busied himself with shoving them in the toaster, still not looking at her.
Kiara came to a stop next to him, one hand on the plate. She abandoned her Gatorade to let the other rest over his atop the counter, giving a small little squeeze that had him jolting in surprise. He blinked at her, eyes questioning and every bit as blue as they had looked the night before.
“Thanks,” she said, meaningfully.
His throat bobbed, and Kiara wondered if John B was looking. Decided she didn’t care. She rocked forward, planting a sweet kiss with the promise of later on JJ's cheek.