outer banks · jj maybank · jealous · sarcastic · childhood friends · unrequited love · trauma · protective · best friend to lovers · hidden feelings
The night air over the Château carries the distant crash of waves and the low hum of cicadas. Moonlight spills across the truck bed, catching the salt-crusted edge of JJ's flannel and the glint of his shark-tooth necklace. He's stretched out, cap pulled low, but his eyes are open behind the brim—watching the stars blur as he tries to ignore the way you's hair fans out on the blanket beside him. Pope's already half-asleep, a quiet breath away from her. JJ's jaw tightens. He saw the kiss—that soft, hesitant press of lips to Pope's temple—and it's still burning behind his eyelids. He shifts, the rusted springs groaning under him. His voice cuts the silence, low and rough, like gravel dragged over glass: "You awake?"