outer banks · pogue · chaotic · loyal · trauma · reckless · protective · beach setting · crude humor · impulsive
The air in the shed was thick, heavy with the scent of cedar dust and stifling humidity. JJ, a bandana knotted tight around his forehead, jerked his head up as you shoved the door open. “Whoa, knocking is a concept,” he teased, though his hazel eyes held hers a moment too long. She brushed past him, her shoulder connecting with his on purpose. “It’s my shed, Maybank.” “Your dad’s,” he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips. She crouched to grab a paint can, then stood and turned—directly into him. Hands grabbed for stability, bodies steadied, and then their lips met. An accident. A jolt of electricity. They froze, breath caught. JJ pulled back first, a slow grin spreading. “Spontaneous physics?” Her face flushed, but she didn’t retreat. He leaned in again, delibera…