Chapter Text
I. Clear Blue Water
The sky was the color of a bruised orange, and you could feel the quiet in your bones. The way you can sometimes, when you're out in the water and it's just you and the waves, no matter what mess the day’s brought you. It was peaceful like that. Just the sound of the sea, and no one expecting anything from you. It was a rare thing, not to be pressured.
Then you hear voices. Shouts, familiar ones, cutting through the quiet like stones on a glassy lake. You sit up, squinting toward the beach. Two figures, stumbling in from God knows where. You catch sight of the blond one first. Tall, cocky grin, clutching his arm. It’s bleeding like mad, and even from where you’re sitting, you can catch the glint of red in the low light. JJ, they call him. Some poor kid with more bruises on his knuckles than most guys have in their egos. But he acts like he doesn’t care. Wears his bravado like a second skin. The guy he’s with, John B or something like that, looks like he’s having a fit.
“You’re bleeding all over the place, you lunatic!” John B says, his face all scrunched up in that exasperated way you see in sitcoms.
JJ shrugs him off. It’s like he can’t even hear the guy, like he’s talking to himself. He just flashes that grin that would’ve looked cocky if it wasn’t hiding something. “It’s just a little scratch, man,” he says, half-laughing, and when he looks your way, he squints like he’s sizing you up. “We’ve got company,” he mutters to John B, nodding toward you with that smirk of his. Real slow and lazy, like it’s no big deal.
You can tell he’s trying to keep that look on his face, trying to stay above it all, but his shoulders are tense and he’s gripping his arm harder than he wants to let on. You catch him wincing when he thinks John B isn’t looking.
He doesn’t know you, and you’re not sure if you want him to. You came here to disappear, to be some faceless, nameless nobody in the stretch of sand and sky, and now this guy—this kid with too much bravado and a cut that looks deeper than his grin—has seen you.
“Come here often?” he asks, real awkward. For a second, you wonder if he’s for real. Then you realize, yeah, he probably is. He’s got this whole act down, the swagger and the one-liners, but you get the feeling it’s just an act. A thing he throws up, like a shield. You’ve seen guys like him before, always loud, always talking, like if they stop, maybe the silence’ll swallow them whole.
“You’re really gonna try to make new friends while you’re gushing blood?” John B mutters, more annoyed than surprised.
JJ, ignoring him entirely, takes a step toward you, his usual cocky grin glued to his face. “No way you’re gonna rat us out, right?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, like he’s challenging you to contradict him.
You don’t bother responding, just raise an eyebrow. You came out here to be alone, not to get drawn into some dumb drama with a guy who thinks he’s indestructible. He seems to take your silence as an invitation, though, sidling closer, still grinning like this is the best part of his day.
You nod toward his arm. “You gonna take care of that, or just wait until you pass out?”
He looks down at the blood seeping through his shirt, like he’s just now remembering it’s there. “Oh, this? I’ve had worse.” And he laughs, but it’s hollow, forced, like he’s daring himself to believe it. John B rolls his eyes at him.
“Are you serious, JJ? You’re about two minutes from fainting, and you’re standing there cracking jokes like an idiot.”
“Hey, chill, man. I’m fine.” He flashes another one of those smiles, big and reckless, but you can see he's shivering a little now, his hand tight on his arm, trying not to show it.
You sigh, more at yourself than him, and start walking toward them. Stupid, but you can’t help it. “You know that’s not gonna heal itself, right?” You shoot him a look, daring him to brush you off.
JJ glances at John B, like he’s embarrassed, then shrugs. “I’ll be alright,” he says, but it’s a lie and you both know it.
“Got a first aid kit?” you ask John B, matter-of-fact, already knowing the answer.
John B opens his mouth, but JJ cuts in with his trademark smirk, a little forced now. “Sure, yeah. I always keep one in my back pocket. Just in case I decide to bleed all over the place.”
You almost roll your eyes at him but instead, you nod at John B’s shirt. “Take it off.”
John B blinks, surprised. “What?”
You don’t repeat yourself, just wait until he sighs and yanks it off, grumbling about it being his favorite shirt. You ignore him, tearing it aparat.
He winces but doesn’t stop you. JJ’s watching, head tilted, the edges of his smile softening, as if he’s trying to figure you out. He watches like he’s never had anyone take care of him before. And maybe he hasn’t.
“This is gonna sting,” you say, wrapping his arm up with a piece of the shirt. He winces, but you don’t go easy. “You’ll survive.”
JJ grins, almost wincing and smirking at the same time. “Right, thanks, nurse,” he mutters, the words dry, but his tone sounds almost grateful. You’re close now, wrapping the last bit tight, and he’s watching you like he’s not sure whether to look away or keep staring.
You finish, brushing your hands off and stepping back, and he gives you a smirk that’s more genuine this time, something sharper.
“You just can’t resist saving a guy like me, huh?” His voice is cocky, but his eyes are watching you close, like he’s trying to make you laugh.
You shrug. “You seemed like you really needed that saving.”
JJ looks like he wants to argue, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something just vulnerable enough that he swallows it down before it has the chance to get out.
The three of you stand there like that, awkward and silent, the ocean churning behind you. And for a minute, you’re not sure why you’re here, why you’re bothering. Maybe it’s something in JJ’s face, the way he’s holding himself together by a thread. And you know what that feels like.
“Next time,” you mutter, tugging at the bandage again, making tighter than you need to, “try not to get yourself killed over a bottle of whiskey.”
You hear him hiss in pain, but he doesn’t move, just stands there, letting you fix him up. His breath catches, and you feel it, the heat of him, the exhaustion in his shoulders. You’re not sure what you see in his eyes when he looks at you, but it’s there, all the same. Vulnerable, like a bruise he’s trying to hide.
“Thanks,” he mutters, and it’s so quiet you barely hear it. Like he’s ashamed of saying it. You watch his hand move to his neck, and you can feel him retreating behind that grin of his, getting his guard back up. “You’re kinda intense, you know that?” he adds, giving you a smirk.
You smirk back. “I was told so before, yes." Then you turn around.
You're halfway gone, practically free, your feet wading through the knee-deep water, the sound of it sloshing around you like applause. But then you hear John B’s voice, sharp and thin in the wet, muggy air, drifting right up to you like it’s following you, demanding your attention.
"Okay, but seriously, what are we supposed to do about the wound?"
You stop, because even though you’re not supposed to care, you do. There’s something about the way he says it—half worried, half like he knows JJ’s never going to come up with a real answer. You turn, just a little, enough to catch sight of them.
JJ’s standing there, shoulders slouched, looking down at his arm like it’s some kind of bother, like the bleeding’s just an annoyance and not something serious. He shrugs, giving John B that look he always gives when he knows he should care more, but can’t quite summon it.
"I don’t know, man. I don’t want to go to the hospital," he says, all casual and half-grinning, like this is some great joke he’s in on and you’re not. "No insurance, remember?"
John B rakes his hand through his hair, groaning like some kind of exhausted father figure who signed up for this, but not really, and you almost laugh. He’s got that look about him like he’s about to lay out some big, thoughtful plan.
"You can’t just leave it like that," he says, frustrated, gesturing at JJ’s arm. "It needs to be stitched up or something."
"I’m going to be fine, man." JJ rolls his eyes, looking away, the picture of carelessness, even though you know he’s probably in more pain than he’d ever admit. "We’ll figure something out. I’ll just… bandage it up more, maybe."
"With what?" John B snaps back, incredulous, sounding more like someone’s nagging big brother than anything else. "More of my clothes?"
There’s this quiet beat, and then JJ’s face splits into a grin, one of those cocky, careless smiles he wears like a shield. "Nah, dude, I don’t wanna see you in your underwear," he fires back, and they both laugh, this genuine, idiotic laugh that echoes off the water.
You’re standing there, shaking your head, feeling the edges of a smile tug at your mouth despite yourself. They’re idiots. Two complete and total idiots, standing there in the water, bleeding and laughing like they’re invincible, like they’ll never have to grow up or face consequences. And yet here you are, stuck with the nagging feeling that you’re watching something that’s just bound to go wrong.
You’ve got that voice in the back of your head, the one that’s always reminding you who you are, where you come from. Don’t be like them, it says, over and over. Don’t be like the Kooks—the ones who stand by and do nothing, who think they’re above it all. You think of your family, your dad with his polished shoes and polite smile, who wouldn’t cross the street to help a stranger, let alone wade through muck for two knuckleheads like these.
You sigh, and you turn around again, because there’s no way you’re going to be able to walk away, not now, not when you can practically see the infection setting in before it’s even there.
"Hey!" you shout, and your voice cuts through their laughter like a knife. They stop and look up, both of them wide-eyed, caught off guard, like they’ve only just remembered you’re there.
"If you want to avoid a serious infection, I can help."
They just stand there, looking at you, their surprise flickering in the space between them like they didn’t think anyone else in the world would care enough to say something. You cross your arms, giving JJ a pointed look, and he looks down, like maybe he’s realizing for the first time that this might actually be something serious.
"I’m not a doctor or anything," you say, and it feels like you’re trying to explain the simplest thing to the simplest people. "But I know a thing or two about taking care of wounds." You pause, looking at JJ, waiting for it to sink in. "And you definitely don’t want that turning into something worse."
They exchange this look, and you can almost hear the gears grinding, the tiny little shifts in their minds as they process the fact that maybe they’re not as invincible as they thought. Finally, JJ shrugs, that cocky grin coming back like a reflex he can’t control. "Alright," he says, giving in, like he’s throwing you a bone. "What do you have in mind, oh wise one?"
You can’t help it; you roll your eyes. "First, we need to clean the wound properly," you say, like you’re talking to a couple of children who’ve never scraped their knees in their lives. "Then I’ll see if I can stitch it up without needing to call a medic."
And as you wade back toward them, you feel a smile creep onto your face. Maybe you like these two airheads, just a little bit.
II. High tide came and brought you in
The whole place is a far cry from what you’re used to, really. It’s almost laughable, like stepping into a postcard that’s seen better days. John B’s house has that weathered, fraying-at-the-edges look, perched by the sea like it’s trying to prove something. The sand’s scattered across the floor, the sofa looks like it’s been put through a war, and snack wrappers are everywhere. It’s a mess. But somehow, it feels honest, something you can’t say about most things back home.
You catch sight of JJ on the sofa, slouched and pale. His face shines with sweat, lips pulled into a grin that’s all bravado and no guts. He’s all sharp angles and tired eyes, trying to look like the bleeding is just an inconvenience.
“Hey,” he says, flashing you that same tired grin. “I’m fine, alright? Just a little blood loss, no big deal.”
It’d almost be funny if you didn’t see right through it. That grin, the cockiness—it’s his shield, a way to keep himself from facing what’s actually happening.
You roll your eyes, just so he knows you’re not buying it. “You’re not fine, JJ. You need someone to fix that, or it’s going to get a whole lot worse.”
You look over at John B, the only other person in the room who’s going to be any help. “You still have that whiskey you guys stole?”
John B raises an eyebrow, smirking like he’s already got the punchline. “Oh, you mean our very illegal whiskey? Yeah, it’s in the kitchen. Honestly, I might need a sip myself after this.”
“JJ might need it more than you right now,” you shoot back, half-exasperated, half-amused. And John B heads to the kitchen, rummaging around until he returns with a half-empty bottle and hands it to JJ.
JJ takes a swig, grimacing at the burn but puffing up his chest like he’s made of steel. “Ah, that’s the good stuff,” he says, a half-smirk pulling at his mouth. “Might need a little more, though. Y’know, for the pain.”
You try not to roll your eyes again, and focus on what you’re actually here to do. “Alright, John B, I need your help here.”
“Yeah? What do you need?” he says, sounding more serious this time.
“A clean cloth, antiseptic, maybe a sewing kit?” you say, ticking off the list in your head.
“Right, right.” John B fumbles around in the cluttered kitchen, yanking open drawers and muttering something under his breath about having too much junk. He finally comes back with a beat-up first aid kit and hands it to you like he’s a surgeon handing over a scalpel.
“Good enough,” you mutter, turning to JJ, who’s still slouched on the sofa, looking just a little too pale for your liking. “Alright, JJ, let’s get that cleaned up.”
He shoots you this look, the kind that’s somewhere between gratitude and terror, then tries to cover it up with another grin. “Let’s just get it over with, okay?”
You keep your face steady, pouring the antiseptic onto a cloth. “This is gonna sting.”
You press the cloth to the wound, and he lets out a sharp hiss, his body tensing up so fast you can practically feel it. “Sorry,” you say, even though you know he’d never admit to how bad it really hurts. “But we’ve gotta do this.”
He clenches his jaw, trying to shrug it off. “Just... do it.”
There’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead, and you wonder, for maybe the hundredth time, how many times he’s gone through something similar to this, alone. That feeling’s gnawing at you as you clean the wound, keeping your hands as steady as you can, feeling him watching you through narrowed eyes.
“Alright, clean enough,” you say, taking a breath before reaching for the needle. You can’t help glancing up at JJ, half-smiling. “Now comes the fun part.”
His eyes widen just a little, and he scoffs, that grin flickering back to life. “What, you mean this hasn’t been the fun part?”
“Hey, it’s just like a pirate adventure,” you say, trying to sound breezy, even though you’re as nervous as he is. “Except, y’know, the treasure is a stitched-up arm.”
“Call me Captain Stitch,” he mutters, with that faint chuckle, and you can’t help it; you smile. He’s ridiculous, and he knows it.
You brace yourself, pressing the needle against his skin, and his breath catches, his hand going white-knuckled on the arm of the sofa.
“I know it hurts. Just breathe through it,” you murmur, focusing on each stitch, keeping your hand from shaking. His jaw is clenched, eyes squeezed shut like he’s trying to shut out every feeling in his body.
John B is there, watching with a strange mixture of awe and worry. “You’re doing great,” he says, nudging JJ’s shoulder. “Better than I’d be doing. I’d probably be halfway to passing out by now.”
JJ huffs out a short, breathless laugh. “Good to know you’ve got my back, man.”
You focus on the last stitch, working slowly, even as JJ flinches at each pull of the thread. The room feels thick with unspoken things, some current of something that’s been there all along but feels especially heavy now. You look up at him, and for a moment, his face softens. There’s a vulnerability there, a rare thing with him, something that sneaks out just for a second.
“All done,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. You knot the thread, sitting back as that wave of relief finally washes over you.
JJ sighs. “Didn’t hurt as much as I thought,” he admits, still sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone.
“Just… take it easy, okay?” you say, your voice gentle. “You’ll be back to doing dumb things soon enough.”
John B leans in, inspecting your work. “Seriously, you saved us there,” he says, looking genuinely impressed. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
JJ leans back, cocky grin returning as he gives you this look that’s softer than usual, even with the smirk. “Thanks for keeping me from bleeding out,” he mutters, half-joking, but there’s something real behind it.
“Just don’t make it a habit, alright?”
He holds your gaze, his face softening. “I’ll try not to,” he says, so quietly it barely makes a sound, but you know he means it, as much as he can mean anything. And somehow, it feels like he’s making a promise—one you’re not even sure he knows how to keep, but it’s there all the same, lingering in the quiet between you.
III. And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will
When you crept back into the estate that night, it felt like slipping back into someone else’s life—one you’d been playing along with but didn’t quite believe. The whole place was still and dark, sprawled out like it owned the night. Not even your brother’s usual noise—a dead giveaway of his general existence—drifted through the halls. Everything felt hushed, like the walls were watching.
Upstairs, you slipped into the attic, your so-called room, with the big, empty bed, the stack of books you hadn’t touched, and stuffed animals that were mostly dust collectors by now. You curled up on the round ledge by the window, staring out past the estate grounds toward the dark stretch of ocean.
But right now, all you could see was the blood on your fingers, those faint red smears from earlier in the day. It was JJ’s blood, proof that you’d been there, patching him up, touching his arm, his skin still warm under your hands. It was a strange thing, how the reminder lingered on you, how it didn’t seem right to just wash it off. You’d been ready to run from that whole world earlier, but here you were now, hugging your knees by the window, caught up in it all over again.
The moonlight slanted in, cold and soft, picking out little shadows in your room. The chaos of the day, JJ and his wound, the way he looked at you like he’d never thought anyone might actually care—all of it just started settling in now. You could still feel the tension in your shoulders, that small, stubborn satisfaction of holding it all together even though you knew someone like JJ would never ask. And, well, you were glad he hadn’t asked more—about why you even knew how to stitch a wound, about why you were alone in the Outer Banks, that part of it, at least.
Tomorrow this place would be buzzing with all those faces you’d grown up memorizing: your father’s crowd, every last one of them Kooks clinking glasses to toast his new promotion. Chief of police, top man in town, the guy who made everything look easy—he’d finally done it, and you could already feel the pride practically dripping from the walls. The way he’d spun his life just right, as if it’d all been waiting for him to claim it, and now he’d be ruling over it all, on the “right” side of town.
Your knees were tight against your chest, your arms wrapped around them like you could hold in the whole rebellion that’d been creeping up on you for years now. The bigger your father’s world got, the smaller yours felt, and the blood on your fingers—it was almost like it didn’t belong in this place, like you’d somehow smuggled a little piece of that world outside back into this one.
You needed something real. JJ’s blood on your hands, that was real. The place he lived, the broken-up, ramshackle side of things, all of it—it was real. You wanted to break away, to carve out something that belonged to you, not to your father. For the first time, it felt like you could almost see it, the other side of life beyond all the glass and glitter, the easy living and the privilege. And all you could think about now was how you didn’t want to wipe that blood off your hands. Not yet.
IV. Skies grew darker
(JJ's POV)
The sun was sinking down over the Outer Banks, giving everything that strange, golden, “we survived the day” look that JJ figured belonged only to them. It spread over the porch and the chateau and the surf beyond, all gold and blue and deep, deep shadow. JJ, John B, and Pope were sprawled on the porch, the weight of the day settling like an old coat you don’t notice until it’s there. Pope was watching him out of the corner of his eye, practically squinting with suspicion.
“Man, I still don’t get it. You really let some random girl stitch you up?” Pope tilted his head, his brow knotted like he’d been chewing on that all day. “Are you crazy, or just, I don’t know, JJ?”
JJ shrugged, throwing on his usual grin to cover up that weird, jittery feeling he couldn’t seem to shake. “I dunno, she knew what she was doing. Besides, wasn’t exactly a line of options. And let’s face it,” he added, smirking, “I’m kinda a tough guy to kill.”
Pope rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up. “Uh-huh, so you just let some girl you don’t even know poke a needle in your arm?” He shot a look at John B, waiting for backup.
John B snorted, nudging Pope with his elbow. “Hey, it’s not like he had a lot of choices. Plus, she was pretty hardcore, right? Kind of impressive.” John B leaned back, clearly enjoying his role as “guy who isn’t the idiot this time.”
“Exactly.” JJ leaned in, letting a little of the amazement out this time. “She didn’t flinch, man. Not once. Just grabbed that antiseptic like she did this every day. You ever meet someone who’s, I don’t know... tough like that? But calm. Unfazed.” He realized he was talking too much again and glanced away, trying to shrug it off.
“Wait, hold up.” Pope raised an eyebrow. “So some mystery girl just shows up, out of nowhere, and helps you out? A stranger, probably some rich Kook kid, and you just let her?”
“Nah, she’s different,” JJ said, trying not to sound defensive. “You didn’t see her, man. She’s... I don’t know. Brave.” It felt dumb to say, but the word wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Uh-huh, and what’s her name?” Pope asked, raising an eyebrow.
JJ flinched. Yeah, he didn’t have an answer for that. He shrugged, real casual. “Names. Like they matter.”
John B couldn’t hold back his laugh, all amusement and exasperation. “Yeah, they actually kinda do if you ever wanna see her again, dumbass.”
“Alright, alright,” JJ mumbled, hating the way his face was burning. And then, somehow, it got worse—Pope snorted, smirking. He had to say something. Something that didn't make him the center of attention.
“Dude, you should have seen her face when John B was taking his shirt off. Guy takes his shirt off, and she’s over there, trying to act like she’s not impressed.”
John B rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what she was doing, being impressed with me. More like she thought I was stupid.”
“Uh-huh, so what was it?” JJ shot back, his voice coming out sharper than he meant it to. “Letting her use your shirt and all, hero-style?”
John B snickered. “Hero, huh? You were bleeding out, man and she saved you. If anyone looked heroic, it was her.”
Pope leaned back, grinning. “So just to recap, you met a hot girl, she stitched you up, and now you’re playing jealous over her looking at John B?”
JJ rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but it was all there, buzzing in him. He forced a grin, shrugging. “Right, because I care about some random Kook girl.” He shot a look at John B, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. It wasn’t fair that John B could make anyone laugh without trying, without screwing it up like he did, saying too much, being too much. Like this stupid conversation, like the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Pope just chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Listen, maybe she’ll come back around, get another look at your battle scars.”
JJ rolled his eyes, but somewhere under the prickly feeling in his chest, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would. Just a flicker of hope he tried not to think about too hard.
They laughed it off, like always, the tension that’d been weighing down the day cracking up and floating away into the sunset. For a second, JJ could almost forget it—forget her, even, though she hovered in the back of his mind. Some stubborn, quiet thought he couldn’t seem to shake.
V. Currents swept you out again
The weather couldn’t have been more perfect for an event this obnoxious.
Your father’s yacht gleamed in the sun, while a crew of waiters, decorators, and caterers scurried around like bees, white orchids in tow, fixing up the deck. You leaned against the railing, feeling the sun beat down on your white silk dress, watching this meticulously crafted chaos unfold.
Below you, there was the sea, the bright horizon of white shores and glassy blue ocean, stretching out in endless calm. Yet somehow, all of it just felt cramped. You thought about the old family library, where you could’ve disappeared had this party been at your estate like it was supposed to be. But your father, in his sharp suit and barked orders, had chosen the yacht for reasons you never wanted to know.
The ocean stretched out around you, hazy on the horizon.
You were about to lose yourself in the endless blue of it when you heard it—a low motor, purring steadily. You glanced down and spotted a boat, a little Carolina Skiff. HMS Pogue was painted on it, the letters all faded and chipped, like the boat itself was a relic from another time. In the center of it, leaning back like he owned the whole damn ocean, was JJ Maybank.
“Hey, little mermaid!” he called, in that cocky voice of his. “Don’t frown so hard, you’ll mess up that pretty face!”
He was smirking, cocky as ever, his eyes glittering like he’d just pulled off some brilliant prank. Beside him was John B, giving you a more laid-back wave, a hint of amusement on his face. And between them sat someone you didn’t recognize—a guy who looked like he was trying his best to blend into the background, though there was a sort of wary curiosity in his eyes. He didn’t look like trouble exactly, but then again, he was with them.
“What’re you doing here?” you called down. There was no way they were here for anything good; Pogues didn’t just drop by your family’s yacht. And if they were here, it meant trouble—or at least JJ’s version of it. The kind that made your stomach twist a little, imagining all the ways it could go wrong. Especially with JJ, who always seemed hell-bent on pushing every boundary he could find.
John B shrugged, that easy half-smile on his face. “We were just cruising by, saw the yacht, thought we’d check it out. Looks like some real royal setup you got here”
JJ just leaned forward, tipping his chin up at you with that same damn grin. You wanted to look away, but something about him held you there, even when he raised his voice, casual as anything.
“What’s the worst that could happen, huh? Fancy folks gonna call the cops on us?”
“Someone probably will if you don’t get out of here,” you shot back, your voice a little tighter than you meant.
But JJ was undeterred. He just kept looking up, leaning forward like he was considering climbing up onto the yacht for fun. Something in you almost wanted him to. Like he had nothing to lose. Like he could do anything. It was reckless, stupid—but in a way, it made you a little jealous.
But John B gave him a nudge, and JJ let out a short laugh, raising his hands in this mock defeat. “Alright, alright, we’re going. Catch you later, little mermaid,” he called, eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something unreadable.
VI. And you were just gone and gone,
"Could you at least try to smile?” your brother said, pressing a chilled glass of champagne into your hand.
You stared down at it, watching the bubbles pop and rise, glancing up at him with that kind of look that said everything. “You know I don’t like this stuff.”
“Oh, come on,” he groaned, tipping his own glass back with a sigh. “They don’t have any cheap Hugo here, alright? Just drink it, and maybe you’ll feel like a real person for once.”
You pressed the glass against your wrist, letting it cool you down. The evening air was finally shifting to a tolerable temperature, but you could still feel the heat in every corner of this party. Your brother was already peeling out of his tie, and his jacket had disappeared long ago, as though he’d decided that even for him, there was a limit to how much he’d put up with for appearances.
You, though—your father had made it perfectly clear, as usual. You had your part to play, or you’d pay for it later.
The whole party, from the music to the swarming guests in their best smiles and polished shoes, felt hollow. Like everyone was busy pretending the new police chief was some kind of saint. And in the midst of it, you were the ghost, floating along the edge of the lights, an extra in your own life.
“Hey, lighten up, would you?” your brother said, nudging your shoulder. “It’s a celebration, remember? Dad’s big night and all.”
You took a deep breath and stared out past the guests, where the deck spilled out into the darkening water. The low hum of laughter and clinking glasses felt like static, a noise you couldn’t even stand to let in.
“Sure, for him,” you said quietly. “It’s always about him.”
“Oh, don’t start.” He gave you this look, that all-knowing big brother look like he knew exactly what you were going to say next. “You’re just being dramatic. Loosen up, alright? Enjoy it for once. You might even meet someone interesting.”
“In this crowd?” You raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I’m not holding my breath.”
“Hey, you never know. Some cute guy might just sweep you off your feet,” he said, grinning like he thought he’d won the lottery with that one.
“A cute guy?” you scoffed, but you could feel yourself hesitating for a second, the words sticking just a little. Because there it was, that image—the stupid blonde from earlier. Leaning against the railing, smirking up at you like he thought he could read your mind. Little mermaid, he’d called you, like he was too cool to care if you hated it.
JJ, you thought. JJ Maybank, of all people. God, just thinking about it made you roll your eyes.
“Who?” your brother asked, squinting at you, picking up on something in your face.
“No one.” You took a cautious sip of the champagne, letting the bubbles fizzle on your tongue, like it might wash away the thought. Of course you couldn’t tell him the “cute guy” you were thinking about was a Pogue, let alone one like JJ.
JJ. That cocky grin, that wild glint in his eye, and you’d caught yourself wondering if he was the type to show up just to cause trouble, to keep pushing until something went wrong, just for the thrill of it. And maybe it was the champagne making you wonder, or maybe just the idea of it all—what it might be like to get out of this world, this perfect cage you were stuck in.
Your brother must’ve picked up on something, though, because he was giving you this sideways glance. “Look,” he said, shifting closer, “try to have a little fun tonight, would you? You never know who you’ll run into.”
You forced a smile, nodding, but it was already fading as you looked out at the water. Fun, you thought, like that was something real people had, not just some ghost haunting a party full of strangers. But still, you couldn’t shake the idea of JJ, his reckless charm. You could practically see him now—smirking, like he knew something you didn’t, like he’d say something that would make you laugh in spite of yourself.
You took another sip and caught yourself sighing, wondering if there was even a chance, some way to disappear off this yacht and run wild into the night with no one watching, just a girl and a guy who didn’t give a damn about appearances.
VII. In wildest dreams
That night on the boat was stifling, one of those nights where everyone’s so busy smiling their widest they barely notice they’re still breathing. And you were standing there, on your father’s yacht, pinned into a corner by some guy with all the charm of a broken seashell. Your mother’s arm was sticky against your shoulder, her voice too smooth, too rehearsed, oozing like honey just past its expiration date.
“There you are, sweetheart,” she purred. Her arm tightened, and your stomach knotted as she turned to the stranger beside her. “This is Chad Whilmberd,” she announced, like that was supposed to mean something.
Chad’s hand reached out, open and slimy as a dead fish, and all you could think was how quickly you needed to get away. Just the idea of being roped into yet another introduction, another polite nodding conversation, made your skin crawl.
“I need to go, uh…” you began, backing away. “To the ladies’ room.”
You don’t wait for permission, slipping away before your mother can insist. As soon as you’re out of sight, your pace quickens, heels clicking on the polished deck. You wind through the maze of guests, heading down the stairs, until the murmurs and laughter fade behind you. At last, the air feels lighter. Out here, at the back of the boat, the cool evening breeze catches you, filling your lungs with salt and sea, finally washing away the stifling sense of obligation.
And that’s when you see him.
JJ stands there in a corner, looking somehow both at ease and totally out of place. He’s in a suit that doesn’t quite fit, the jacket a little loose on his shoulders and the shirt collar fraying. He looks like he might belong among the waitstaff, a little rough around the edges, eyes darting around like he was mapping out an escape route.
Some Kook stepped toward him, sneering, grabbing his collar like he had every right. “What’re you even doing here, Maybank?”
JJ smiled, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was in on a joke no one else got. "Look," he muttered, “I didn’t come here to make trouble.” But his voice quivered at the edges, the words strung too tight, and before you knew it, the Kook swung. JJ took the hit, hard and heavy on his jaw, blood seeping into his mouth.
Just as he was ready to swing again, you stepped in. “Back off. Now.”
The Kook turned to you, unimpressed, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, and who’s gonna make me? You?” He let out a short, mocking laugh, barely sparing you a glance as he moved right back into JJ’s space.
But you didn’t back down. “Yeah, I said stop.”
His smirk twisted into something meaner, and he let go of JJ just long enough to shove you back, his grip rough and careless. “Stay out of this, sweetheart,” he sneered, turning back to JJ. But before he could even think to grab him again, JJ’s fist flew up, landing square against the guy’s jaw with a hard, precise crack.
The Kook staggered, shock flashing across his face, but he lunged again. JJ dodged, quick and controlled, his next punch slamming into the guy’s side. He barely let him recover before he swung again, his movements sharp, deliberate. The Kook tried to get a hit in, but he was slower, wilder, every punch landing short or glancing off JJ’s arm.
In a final, brutal move, JJ grabbed the front of the Kook’s shirt and shoved him back, hard, sending him sprawling against the ground. The Kook’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stayed there, anger and humiliation twisting his face. He muttered something, a low curse, before picking himself up, shooting one last glare at both of you.
When he finally stomped off, defeated, the quiet settled heavy around you both. JJ was breathing hard, his lip dripping in blood, but his eyes held a spark—a fierce, unguarded look as he took you in.
“Guess I owe you for trying to save my ass,” he said, voice rough but amused, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
You shrugged, a hint of a smile breaking through despite yourself. “Looked like you had it handled.”
You threw a quick glance over your shoulder. Everything was still quiet, but someone would come looking for JJ soon. Without thinking, you reached for his arm.
“Come on.”
You tugged him along, slipping into the nearest room. Just as you shut the door, footsteps echoed closer, too close.
“Damn it,” you whispered, yanking the closet door open and giving JJ a light shove. “Get in there and keep quiet!”
“What? Why—”
“Just do it,” you hissed, your voice laced with urgency. JJ stared at you, part defiant, part amused, but with a quick roll of his eyes, he ducked into the cramped space. You kicked off your shoes and threw yourself onto the bed, feigning the lazy sprawl of someone who’d left the party long ago.
The door swung open, and your brother stormed in, frustration all over his face. “Where’s that idiot?”
You flinched but forced yourself to look annoyed, eyes half-lidded in fake drowsiness. “Do you mind? I’m trying to sleep,” you muttered, pulling the pillow closer to hide your smirk.
Your brother blinked, thrown off, and one of his friends behind him let out a low whistle. “Well, if you need company, babe…”
“Unless you want a foot in your face, shut it,” you shot back, your tone deadly.
Your brother huffed, scanning the room one last time before groaning. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, shoving his friends back into the hall. “Sorry for interrupting your precious beauty sleep.”
The door creaked shut, and the room fell into silence. After a beat, the closet door opened, and JJ stumbled out, his hair a mess, eyes wide with barely-suppressed laughter.
“Smooth save,” he whispered, still grinning. “I owe you one.”
You rolled your eyes, sitting up on the bed as JJ rubbed his jaw, still smirking.
“Yeah, well, you almost blew it,” you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “What were you even thinking, picking a fight out there?”
He shrugged, leaning back against the wall, that familiar spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t think you’d come swooping in like that. I can handle myself, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because hiding in closets is exactly how a tough guy handles himself.”
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my best idea.” He pauses, glancing over at you, his tone softening a little. “But I’m… kind of on a mission here. I need something.”
Your eyes narrow, half-curious, half-exasperated. “So you are stealing again,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
He doesn’t answer right away, just holds your gaze, lips twitching like he’s debating whether or not to let you in on the plan. Finally, he smirks. “Stealing is a strong word. I like to think of it as… redistributing.” He leans in, his voice low, like he’s letting you in on a big secret. “I just need one thing, then I’m out. Promise.”
You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Only JJ would think breaking into a high-profile party and “redistributing” valuables could be dismissed with a promise and a wink. But there’s something about that grin, something in his voice, that makes you want to believe him. Against your better judgment, you do.
“Fine,” you mutter, still reluctant but unable to fully resist his reckless charm. “What’s the plan?”
JJ’s face lights up, his grin widening as if he knew you’d say yes all along. “I knew you were on my side,” he says, teasingly tugging you closer. “So there’s a map your dad is supposed to keep hidden on this yacht. We need it for—well, for something important.”
Your brows knit together in surprise. “A map? I don’t think my dad keeps any maps on here...” The notion seems absurd, but there’s a part of you that’s intrigued.
As you processed everything he’d just said, your gaze drifted over JJ—his torn clothes, the bruise darkening on his cheek, the blood still seeping from the cut on his lip. The sight tugged at something deeper in you, something protective.
“JJ, you really need to take care of that before you even think about heading back out there,” you said, nodding toward his lip.
He waved a hand, that familiar cockiness flickering in his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch,” he replied, though he couldn’t fully hide the wince as he moved his mouth.
You stepped closer, the instinct to help overriding any hesitation. “It doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’ actually. And you’re not going anywhere until you clean it up.”
He hesitated, like he wasn’t used to anyone fussing over him, but finally gave in with a playful roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine.”
“Good. But first, put this on,” you said, going to the closet and pulling out a crisp white shirt and a pair of brown pants. Probably your dad’s. “You can’t go out there in a torn-up uniform; it’ll draw too much attention.”
JJ smirked, giving you a playful look. “What, you don’t like my ‘rebellious waiter’ vibe? I thought it was a statement.”
You shot him a dry look. “Yeah, but the statement is ‘I just got into a fight.’ Now put this on before anyone catches you.”
He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “Alright, alright. No need to get all bossy.” The grin on his face softened as he took the shirt from you, pulling off his torn uniform.
You quickly turned away, focusing on the wall. “I’ll just… stand over here,” you mumbled, hoping he didn’t catch the heat rising to your cheeks.
“Hey, you can look if you want,” he teased, clearly enjoying the moment.
“Yeah, right,” you muttered. “I'm good.”
JJ laughed. “Just saying, I’m not exactly shy.”
“JJ, please.” You squeezed your eyes shut, cheeks still burning, and waited until the rustling stopped before finally turning around.
Your gaze caught on his messy hair and the stubborn cut on his lip, blood still visible. With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the bathroom.
“Sit,” you instructed, dampening a washcloth as he perched on the edge of the sink. You moved close, wiping the blood from his lip with gentle strokes. He winced but held still, his eyes fixed on you.
“You really need to be more careful,” you said softly, dabbing at his lip.
A sheepish grin crept onto his face. “Maybe, but a little blood just adds character, right?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your mouth. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I might not even bother.”
He raised an eyebrow, that smirk returning as he watched you. “So you think I’m cute?”
You shot him a look. “Hold still,” you murmured, turning your attention back to the washcloth, but your pulse was racing. You hadn’t realized how close you were standing until the silence stretched out, his eyes still locked on yours.
JJ leaned in slightly, his gaze flicking to your mouth, the humor fading from his expression as something softer, warmer, settled there. The world seemed to pause, that faint space between you pulling tight with tension.
You swallowed, but your voice was barely a whisper. “All cleaned up.”
“Thanks,” he replied, but he didn’t move, his eyes never leaving you.
The silence stretched between you, almost humming with unspoken words. JJ’s gaze lingered, flicking from your eyes to your mouth, as if there was something he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to start. You could feel the warmth of his presence, the small space between you practically buzzing.
Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and a little uncertain. “So… I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
The question surprised you, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “You’re kidding.”
He shrugged, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “Guess I got a little distracted by all the… action.” He said it with a smirk, his lips curving up, but there was something genuine in his gaze, almost like he’d been waiting for an excuse to get close enough to ask.
You looked away, a little flustered, before meeting his eyes again. “It’s Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he repeated, testing it out like he was trying to lock it into memory. “Yeah, that suits you.”
There was a softness to the way he said it, a quiet respect that you hadn’t expected. You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, and before you could stop yourself, you reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Glad you finally asked,” you teased, giving him a small smile. “Feels like that’s usually the first step before someone saves your life a couple of times.”
JJ laughed, the sound bright and carefree, and it made your heart skip. “Yeah, usually,” he agreed, tilting his head as he looked at you. “But I think we kinda skipped a few steps, huh?”
You nodded, the words settling around you both, something unsaid thickening the air between you again. JJ’s hand brushed against yours, tentative, as though testing whether you’d pull away. You didn’t.
In that quiet moment, JJ shifted closer. “Y/N…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine.
But just as quickly, he pulled back, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness, a shy grin breaking through. “Uh, right,” he said, scratching the back of his head, his nervous energy palpable. “I, uh, should probably... I mean, thanks for the help. I can’t just hang out here all night, you know?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to be late for your next ‘mission,’” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the tension.
“Right, the mission.” He nodded, his biting his lip again, the familiar flicker of insecurity flashing in his eyes. “I should look for the map, right?”
You could sense that he was retreating, putting up walls again to shield himself from whatever feelings were stirring in the moment. It was as if he had flipped a switch, and the playful banter masked something deeper—a fear of intimacy, of getting too close.
You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You really think you’ll find that here?”
“Sure, why not?” He replied with a cocky grin.
“Fuck it.” He threw his hands up in frustration, his determination clear. “I’ve got to look for it anyway. This is our best shot.”
You stepped closer, arms crossed, leaning in slightly as you locked eyes with him. “What are you going to do if someone catches you snooping around? My dad will be way worse than my brother and his friends. He’s cutthroat. He’ll throw you in prison and toss away the key. Remember, he’s the chief of police?”
He leaned against the bathroom counter, shifting his weight nervously, clearly weighing his options. “I guess I’ll just have to come up with some kind of excuse,” he said, his voice light but the tension in his posture evident. “Or maybe I’ll charm my way out of it.”
“Right, because that’s worked so well for you so far,” you replied, rolling your eyes. A small laugh escaped you despite the serious undertone.
JJ shrugged, the cocky smirk never quite leaving his face. “Hey, charm is my specialty.”
“Sure it is.” You shook your head, the smile hanging there like a stubborn cloud. “Look, JJ, just hear me out. I’ll help you look for that map. But you’ve got to agree to scram for today, alright?”
He narrowed his eyes, arms crossed like he was some sort of barricade against your words. “How do you figure you’ll find it?”
You shrugged, trying to keep it casual, like the whole thing was no big deal. “I know my dad, and I’ve got a pretty good idea of where he stashes his things. Plus, I live under the same roof as him. It’s not rocket science.”
You held his gaze, steady, like a lighthouse in a storm, hoping he’d catch the sincerity in your offer, that he’d understand you weren’t just spouting nonsense.
JJ shifted slightly, his posture softening just a bit, but the skepticism didn’t fade entirely. “So you’re saying I should just trust you? Just take your word for it?”
You let out a breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. “Look, I get it. Trust isn’t exactly easy for you, but you know I’m not like the other Kooks. I saved you from my brother and his friends. I mean what I say.”
"Alright." He nods. "I'll leave. But you gotta promise me to help me find that map. Deal?"
"Deal,” you said, relief flooding through you. You gestured toward the door. “I’ll go with you. As long as you’re by my side, you won’t attract any attention. My brother’s on the lookout for a blonde waiter. Right now, you look like—”
“A rich snob,” he interrupted, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips.
You shrugged, a small grin playing at the corners of your mouth. “That, yes. And with me around, we can slip out the front without anyone noticing.”
He regarded you for a moment, brow furrowing as he considered your plan. “And you really think that’s going to work?”
“Trust me,” you replied, your confidence shining through the uncertainty. “It’s definitely better than hiding in a closet all night.”
JJ let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright then, lead the way, Y/N.”
VIII. I never dreamed of this
The warm breeze hit you like a long-lost friend as you stepped out onto the deck, and let me tell you, the scene was electric—people mingling like fireflies, laughter ricocheting off the walls, and music thrumming in the air like a heartbeat. I mean, it was all quite the spectacle, really. But maybe you only felt that way because of the blonde boy next to you.
“Let’s just stick together,” you muttered, scanning the crowd. You felt a swell of anxiety rise in your chest, but you had to keep it together.
“Don’t worry; I’ve got your back. Knight in shining armor and all that,” JJ eplied, with a flash of that cocky grin.
“More like a knight in wrinkled clothes,” you laughed, stepping into the chaotic swirl of the party. But that laugh turned sour when your eyes landed on your parents, backs turned, deep in conversation with a couple of detectives. Real serious stuff. Your dad’s colleagues, no less.
You instinctively grabbed JJ’s hand, fingers lacing together like you were tethering yourself to a lifeboat. He looked down, surprise flickering across his features—like he wasn’t quite used to being held onto—but he didn’t pull away. Together, you navigated through the throng of partygoers, each step bringing you closer to the exit that led to the pier.
There were two guards at the entrance, scanning the crowd like hawks eyeing their prey. You felt JJ tense beside you; it was palpable. His grip tightened a little, and for a moment, he was all nerves, all adrenaline.
“Relax,” you whispered, though the worry seeped through your own voice.
You stroked his hand softly, thumb moving in gentle circles. It felt almost intimate, the way your skin brushed against his. His breath hitched, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. You could almost feel the walls around him start to crumble, if only a little.
You inched closer to the exit, and the guards started to feel less like giants ready to crush you both. It was the thrill of shared secrets that kept you moving forward, your pulse quickening with each step.
Finally, you reached the guards, and one of them caught your eye. Recognition flashed in his expression—a nod of understanding, a glimmer of familiarity. You returned the nod, holding your head high.
“Thanks for keeping an eye out,” you said, the words tasting strange on your tongue.
“Always,” the guard replied, his gaze shifting to JJ momentarily, then back to the party.
With a quick glance at each other, you and JJ slipped past.
Your feet hit the pier, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Thank God—freedom from that yacht, from all the insufferable small talk and forced smiles.
He shot you a grin, that trademark mischief dancing in his blue eyes. “Easy peasy,” he said, and it was as if he really thought this was just another lazy stroll in the park.
“Don’t jinx it,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder at your dad’s yacht where the party still raged on. Your parents were inside, oblivious, lost in their celebration. You could feel your dad’s disappointment echoing in your mind, the way he’d surely react when he found out you left early.
“Relax, little mermaid,” JJ teased, swaggering ahead, his bravado a shield against whatever vulnerability lay beneath. “You’re with me. What could possibly go wrong?”
You rolled your eyes, half-amused, half-serious. “I don’t know, maybe everything? You’re a walking disaster waiting to happen.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, you regretted it. You saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes, even if he masked it with that relentless grin.
“Thanks very much,” he replied, that grin plastered on, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. You’d hit something. Something he didn’t want to show. He let go of your hand, and the emptiness was immediate, cutting through the night like a cold wind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze wandering back to the crowded deck. He looked like he was searching for an exit, or maybe just some distance from what he was feeling. From what you’d made him feel.
“JJ?” you ventured, voice soft, watching him with unease. Guilt was clawing at you now, twisting in your stomach. You wanted to take the words back, but the damage was done.
“Just make sure you get me that map, alright?” he muttered, his tone half-defeated, half-cold. He kept his eyes forward, jaw tight. Like he was bracing for betrayal—like he was waiting for you to hurt him.
You bit your lips, trying to ignore the weight bearing down on you. Of course it was about the map. It was only about the map. And you were risking everything—your sanity, your safety, your father’s wrath—just for the chance to help him find it. You’d made a promise to JJ. You thought he was relying on you, trusting you. But you could see it now, clear as day: he expected you to fail him. He expected everyone to.
He looked at you, his stare sharper than before. “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”
“No,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered just enough for him to catch it. “No, I promised, didn’t I?”
But as the words left your mouth, you felt that familiar knot of doubt tighten in your stomach. Your father would do more than just ground you if he found out about this—he’d strip away every last shred of freedom you had. He’d shut down the Outer Banks like a book slammed shut, maybe even go after JJ himself. You had no doubt he’d do it, too. That was his way: erase anything he didn’t want you to have, scrub away anything—or anyone—that didn’t fit his perfectly manicured world.
“A Pogue,” he cut in, the words laced with something too bitter to be casual. He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes darkening. You could see a flicker of hurt there, something raw and real that he tried to cover up with that signature smirk of his. “I should’ve known, right? The second you said you’d help me, I should’ve known you’d just… bail.”
The words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You looked up at him, feeling the sting of his distrust. “Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you shot back, fighting to keep your voice strong, though part of you wanted to turn away, to hide from the accusation in his eyes. “I said I’d get it, and I will.” You paused, swallowing down the ache in your throat, the desperate pull to make him believe in you, to make him understand. “But you’re gonna have to do something for me in return.”
He raised an eyebrow, that cocky bravado slipping just a little. “And what’s that?” he asked, tilting his head, his gaze softening like he was trying to read you, like he was trying to see past the barriers you’d put up.
Your voice came out softer than you’d intended, and you forced yourself to breathe, steadying your nerves. “You’re going to forget all of this. Me, my name, who my dad is. Forget you even saw me on the yacht, that we ever talked.” You felt the weight of those words settle between you, and it hurt more than you’d expected. Every part of you was screaming against it, wanting to be close to him, wanting to hold onto this feeling, to be part of this world he lived in so easily. But you couldn’t. Not really. “And make sure your friends forget, too.”
JJ’s eyes held yours, unreadable, his usual swagger replaced by something deeper, something that made your heart twist painfully. You could see him trying to process what you were asking him, trying to understand why. You hated that you were asking him to erase you like this, to pretend like none of it mattered. And maybe part of you feared that he’d do it all too easily, that he’d let you go without a second thought. But what scared you even more was the other possibility—that he wouldn’t, that he’d remember you, despite it all.
He let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head slowly, like he was trying to come to terms with the divide between you. “So that’s it, huh? Erase you. Pretend like none of this matters. Like it’s just nothing.” He paused, his voice turning softer, more vulnerable. “You think you can just… dip out of one world and slip back into another like nothing’s changed?”
Your chest tightened, your heart aching with the weight of what you were asking of him. “JJ, it’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “If my dad finds out… if he even gets a hint of this, he’ll make my life hell. And not just me—he’ll find a way to make this whole world off-limits. I’ll lose everything. I don’t expect you to understand, but… please.”
He looked away, his expression tight, every wall back up, stronger than ever. “Fine. Do what you need to,” he muttered, the cockiness draining from his voice, leaving only a quiet, wounded edge. “Just make sure I get that map.”
And that was it—the line between you both, drawn clearer than ever, a line you didn’t want but couldn’t erase. You wanted so much to reach out, to tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted, that there was more you wished you could give. But all you could do was stand there, feeling the chasm between you, wide and impossible to bridge, as he forced that grin back on, wearing it like armor.
“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, the nickname harsh now, like it was meant to push you away, to keep you at a distance. “If you don’t come through, I’ll find my way back onto that yacht.”
And with that, he was gone.
Just like that, he turned and walked off, his figure swallowed up by the night and the quiet hum of the pier. You stood there, feeling the empty, hollow ache he left in his wake. For a second, you thought about calling after him, saying something, anything to take the edge off the words that had come between you. But the fear, the weight of the life you couldn’t shake, held you back.
You didn’t move, staring out over the water, trying to convince yourself that this was the right choice—that protecting your freedom, keeping your secrets safe, was worth the cost. But deep down, you knew. Every careful wall you’d built, every excuse you’d told yourself—they didn’t make it hurt any less. You couldn’t help thinking about the spark that flickered in JJ’s eyes, that hint of hope he tried so hard to hide. You’d watched him wear his scars like armor, and for a moment tonight, you’d felt like maybe he’d let you see past them, let you get close.
But then you’d taken that chance and crushed it. For safety, for survival, for every reason you’d learned to believe in. Still, standing there, you felt the hollowness creeping in, like he’d taken a piece of you with him.