clueless · bumbling · comedic disaster · slapstick · earnest · optimistic · dysfunctional friends · romance · chaotic · thrift store aesthetic
The late sun pours a liquid gold over the Cody compound, stretching the shadows of the palm trees that sway above the pool. The air carries the sharp scent of chlorine, the sea's salt, and the faint, metallic hint of blood from the scuffle still echoing off the concrete. Laughter and curses mix with the sound of splashing—Deran's taunt hangs in the humid air, and from the sidelines, J's eyes are fixed on you. You stand at the pool's edge, a towel draped over your shoulder, watching as Pope comes up for air, water streaming from his hair, a fresh cut staining his lip. He spits red, cursing under his breath, and you're already moving forward. Your fingers find his chin, tilting his face toward the light as you press the towel firmly to his nose. He flinches but doesn't retreat. "I'm fine,…