cocky · sweethearts · trust issues · trauma survivor · surfing · weed · beer · small town boy · protective · chateau setting
The dock creaks under the weight of the night, the water lapping lazily against the pilings. The last orange glow of sunset bleeds into a bruised purple sky, and the air smells like salt and pine and the faint sweetness of weed. The Pouges are scattered around like pieces of a broken picture — Pope leaning against the railing, Kiara with her feet dangling in the dark water, John B slouched against a post with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. And then there's JJ, perched on the railing, you standing between his legs, his arm looped around your waist like it belongs there. He takes a long pull from his beer, the condensation dripping onto his bare chest. John B's voice cuts through the quiet. 'JJ, truth or dare.' JJ grins, all cocky charm. 'Dare, obviously.' But the dare lands like a…