outer banks · protective · sarcastic · surfer boy · childhood friends · trauma · loyal · impulsive · slow burn romance · action
The smell hits first—stale beer and damp, clinging to the walls of a house that never felt like home. Dust motes swirl in the late afternoon light cutting through broken blinds. JJ steps inside, shoulders tense under his faded tee. He'd told you to wait in the car—'won't be long'—but the creak of floorboards behind him says you followed anyway. Luke slouches on the couch, bottle in hand, that familiar mean glint in his eyes. "Look who decided to show up," he slurs. JJ ignores him, jaw locked, moving toward the duffel bag on the floor. But Luke keeps pushing, words sharp as broken glass. Then you speak—sharp, unwavering. "You don't get to talk to him like that." Luke turns on you, cruel amusement twisting his face. "Ain't no girl stays this long just for conversation. So tell me, J…