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The sun was already high in the sky by the time the Pogues arrived at their favorite hidden beach—secluded enough to avoid nosy tourists but close enough that John B’s old van could still rumble its way through the sandy path without stalling. The air was thick with salt and sunshine, promising the kind of endless summer day they all craved.
John B parked haphazardly near the dunes, and the crew spilled out, laughing and yelling over each other as they unloaded towels, blankets, coolers, and John B’s beat-up acoustic guitar.
“Alright, troops!” JJ announced, clapping his hands together. “Operation: Ultimate Beach Day is officially underway.”
Pope raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Didn’t you call it ‘Mission: Beach Bonanza’ on the way here?”
JJ waved dismissively. “Rebranding. Gotta keep the vibe fresh.”
“Speaking of fresh,” Cleo interjected, hopping down from the back of the van, “I’m calling first dibs on the water. Y’all are too slow.”
Before anyone could argue, she sprinted toward the ocean, kicking up sand behind her.
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The Pogues quickly set up a chaotic but cozy camp: blankets scattered over the sand, a small portable speaker blasting old rock mixed with reggae and throwback pop songs, and an assortment of snacks already half-eaten.
John B and Sarah stretched out on one of the larger blankets, sharing a pair of sunglasses because Sarah had forgotten hers (again). Pope was sprawled out under the only bit of shade, determined to finish the mystery novel he’d brought despite JJ’s relentless teasing.
JJ and Kiara were still arguing over who got to use the only functioning beach chair they’d brought.
“I’m the one who carried it from the van!” JJ protested, arms crossed.
Kiara planted her hands on her hips. “You carried it for two seconds. I was the one holding it while also carrying the cooler!”
Before either could claim victory, Cleo strolled over, dripping wet from her swim, and plopped herself into the chair with a satisfied sigh.
“Problem solved,” she said, smirking.
Kiara and JJ exchanged looks, momentarily stunned, before both burst into laughter.
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The ocean was too tempting to ignore for long. Within minutes, they were all running toward the waves—splashing, diving, and tackling each other like a bunch of overgrown kids.
John B and Sarah waded out together, alternately floating on their backs and seeing who could dive deeper. Pope attempted to bodysurf but ended up wiped out by a particularly aggressive wave, sending JJ into fits of uncontrollable laughter.
“Man down!” JJ gasped between laughs. “Someone get a lifeguard!”
Pope emerged sputtering but grinning. “I’m coming for you next, Maybank.”
Meanwhile, Kiara and Cleo were knee-deep in the shallows, strategizing a sneak attack. JJ was still distracted by Pope when Cleo gave Kiara a subtle nod.
“Now!” Kiara yelled.
Before JJ could react, they both tackled him from behind, sending all three of them crashing into the surf. He came up, coughing dramatically, soaked and still laughing.
“Cold-blooded!” JJ declared, shaking water from his hair. “I thought we were friends.”
Cleo smirked. “Your first mistake.”
They spent what felt like hours in the water—racing to the sandbar, seeing who could hold their breath the longest, and diving through the waves like they had all the time in the world.
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After drying off, JJ and Kiara wandered further down the beach, barefoot and lazy, while the others lounged by the campfire pit John B and Pope were assembling.
The tide had pulled back, revealing rocky tide pools filled with tiny fish, crabs, and starfish. JJ crouched near the edge of one, intently poking at a hermit crab that was cautiously emerging from its shell.
“Man, this guy’s got it figured out,” JJ said thoughtfully. “He just… packs up and moves when stuff gets rough.”
Kiara knelt beside him, watching the crab skitter into deeper water. “Running isn’t always the answer.”
JJ’s expression softened, his usual bravado slipping for a moment. “Maybe not… but staying’s risky too.”
She reached out and rested her hand on his, stilling his restless fingers. “You’ve got us. You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
His eyes searched hers, unsure but hopeful. “Think we could… have something more someday? A real home?”
Kiara nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. We’ll build it. Together.”
JJ exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. “Sounds… kinda perfect.”
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As the sky turned a fiery orange, the Pogues gathered around the crackling bonfire John B and Pope had successfully built (after much trial and error). Blankets were spread out around the flames, and the salty breeze carried the faint notes of John B’s guitar.
Cleo was perched on an old driftwood log, roasting marshmallows with ruthless efficiency. “Y’all are amateurs,” she declared, expertly toasting hers to golden perfection.
Sarah, holding a charred marshmallow, frowned. “It’s harder than it looks.”
JJ sat behind Kiara, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist as she leaned back against his chest. His chin rested on her shoulder, and his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the fabric of her hoodie.
John B started strumming a familiar tune on his guitar, and Sarah joined in, singing off-key but confidently. Cleo rolled her eyes but smiled, eventually singing along.
Pope stretched out on the sand, hands behind his head, looking up at the emerging stars. “You know… this feels like… what it’s supposed to be.”
“Like normal people stuff,” Sarah agreed, her voice soft with contentment.
JJ smirked but didn’t disagree. “Normal’s overrated… but this?” He pressed a kiss to Kiara’s temple. “This I could get used to.”
Kiara smiled, intertwining her fingers with his. “Me too.”
As the fire crackled and the ocean whispered its eternal song, the Pogues sat together under a sky full of stars—free, untouchable, and home in a way that went beyond any place. They were each other’s family, and for once, there was nothing to run from—just the promise of endless summer stretching out before them.