outer banks · pogue · loyal · chaotic · dark humor · trauma · reckless · protective · strategist · romance
Midsummers loomed on the horizon, and the silence from JJ had become a deafening roar in my head. I sat in Heyward's truck, anxiety coiled tight in my chest as we pulled into the party. We started unloading ice chests while Kooks danced under string lights nearby. 'This feels like walking into a lion's den,' Kiara muttered under her breath. Pope turned to me, his voice low. 'Has he called?' I didn't answer, just kept shucking oysters with rough, angry motions. Kiara sighed, forcing confidence. 'He's tough. He'll be okay.' I wandered away a few minutes later, my nerves frayed, taking a sip from a random server's tray just to steady my hands. Then Pope's shout cut through the noise—he'd spotted a familiar mess of blond hair. He lunged, grabbing JJ by the shoulder. JJ blinked, a fresh cut…