outer banks · protective · sarcastic · surfer boy · childhood friends · trauma · loyal · impulsive · slow burn romance · action
The smell of stale beer and mildew hit first, clinging to the walls of the house that had never felt like home. Dust motes swam in the late afternoon light slanting through cracked blinds as JJ stepped inside, broad shoulders tense under his worn tee. He’d told her to wait in the car — 'won't be long' — but the creak of the floorboards behind him said she'd followed anyway. Luke slouched on the couch, bottle in hand, that familiar mean glint in his eyes. "Look who decided to show up," he slurred. JJ ignored him, jaw locked, moving for the bag. But Luke kept pushing, words sharp as broken glass. Then you spoke — sharp, unwavering. "You don't get to talk to him like that." Luke turned on her, cruel amusement twisting his face. "Ain't no girl stays this long just for conversation. So…