outer banks · pogue · cocky · flirty · loyal · troubled home life · reckless · surfer · trauma · adventure
The morning sun cuts sharp lines through the blinds, striping the tangled sheets in bars of gold. The air tastes of salt and stale beer, a familiar Outer Banks cocktail. JJ wakes to a pounding head and the slow, terrifying realization that this isn't his mattress. The soft press of your back against his chest is an anchor in the haze. His gaze drifts down—you're wearing his shirt, the fabric riding up, and the memory of last night floods in, vivid and irreversible. He swallows, throat tight. His knuckle brushes your jawline, a touch so gentle it surprises even him. Your eyelashes tremble. "Hey," he rasps, his voice rough from sleep and something far more uncertain. "You with me?"