Chapter Text
A part of her was dreading this, but she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she was going to be judged for her lack of communication.
She was an adult. She had every right to talk to who she wanted to talk to.
Her mud-covered Converse tapped against the tiled floor, and the receptionist gave her a dirty look when she made a small dirt streak underneath her. Kie placed her thumbnail into her mouth and told herself that if Sarah wanted her to do this, then she would have to pay for the nail aftermath later.
The elevator chimed, and she turned to look at the figure stepping out of its door. It was a businessman with a briefcase.
Not it.
Kie accidentally bit the skin of her thumb, and she shook out her hand, the bit of blood that it produced flying in a small speck against her faded hoodie. She would have to remember to wash that later, or the stain would set.
“It’s been a while, girl.” Her lips curled upward at the familiar, yet reminiscent, accent. That tone brought back the stinging feeling of skin that was beet red and feet burning while they ran across the sand, spears in hand, before they flew into the water. “You’re looking old.”
“You know what?” She laughed and turned around. “f*ck you, Cleo.” Cleo just laughed, and she pulled the other woman into her arms. She still smelled a little bit like she did back then, and Kiara finally realized what everyone had meant when they said she felt exactly the same but different. Cleo still smelled of oil, grime, and a bit of good old-fashioned sweat. All of those smells were the smell of the island. She smelled like that once upon a time when she was out in the world like Cleo was now.
“I’m not allowed to be honest?”
“You’re just lucky I’m trying to be nice.” Cleo grinned a bit, and she felt the incoming comeback simmering when she squeezed Kie’s shoulder.
“You? Nice? You’re kidding me, sister.” Kie pushed her aside, and their laughter surrounded them as they walked out of the small hotel lobby, the commercial pop music disappearing with the slow shut of the sliding door.
She didn’t exactly know why Sarah had chosen her to pick up Cleo.
The lack of a continued relationship between the two in the last six years made her frankly, nervous. The last time that she had spoken to Cleo it was a weak excuse to why she was working at the Wreck rather than hanging out with the Pogues, and she had made sure never to look Cleo in the eye.
They were eighteen and twenty, and now, they are twenty-four and twenty-six. She hoped that somewhere in the last six years, there was something to talk about that wouldn’t feel as awkward as any of the other conversations she had to endure.
Maybe she needed to tell Cleo about the weird feeling with JJ. Maybe she would understand what it’s like to have a complicated relationship with an ex. So far, Pope had been a bit of a sh*t friend in that area, and it would help her feel better to know she had someone in her corner.
Her throat was tight, and her brain was prompted that if she played her cards wrong, she might give the opposite idea. The last thing she wanted was for more people to think that she wanted anything at all with JJ.
It all felt so complicated, and she knew that she was almost completely to blame for it. Honestly, Kiara would’ve preferred anyone else to make the journey to get the last Pogue. She knew it was entirely her fault for not reaching out, especially the few months that she had spent in the Caribbean with the ability to actually contact her friend, and now they were sitting in a car silently, her hand turning the wheel after they had loaded in their luggage for the long-awaited bachelorette party.
Her lips pressed together as Cleo hummed a familiar sea shanty under her breath, and she felt the nervous energy surrounding her body, the hair on her arms practically standing on end as she thought through what she should do with the time they had alone in the car.
The lonesome hour could be spent mending bridges that she had let purposely crumble when she abandoned the Pogues, if someone spoke first. It probably should be Kie, but her throat wasn’t exactly cooperating.
She cleared her throat, and the humming stopped.
“I didn’t mean to ignore you when I was in the Caribbean four years ago.” Kie turned, and Cleo shrugged a bit, her face passive and her body language indifferent. She had always felt a little unsteady when it came to reading people, but Cleo was a different animal altogether. She always gave off a bit of a veil when it came to how she felt, and it was telling Kie’s brain to be very defensive. She tried her best to swallow down her pride and forced her defensiveness to calm down. “I didn’t know that you were in town, and I didn’t really want to bother you in case you were with someone.”
Pope remained unnamed out of courtesy, and Cleo sighed.
“I don’t hold it against you, girl.” Cleo smiled a bit, and the tension in her shoulders eased for a moment. “You wanted to live that life you never got to live.” Kie smiled a bit and nodded. Finally, someone understood. “You get robbed?”
“No, I didn’t get robbed.” Kie scoffed. “I surfed for a couple of months and then couldn’t find work on the harbor, so I moved onto South America.”
“Shoulda known a city girl like you couldn’t make it on the sea.” Kie rolled her eyes, and they laughed together. “How long you been here already?”
“Um,” Kie thought about it, her eyes squinting. She felt like the past weeks had been very unreliable, more than usual, anyway. It had definitely been more than a month, but she felt like it would be a stretch to say that it had been two. “I think it’s been close to two months, but jet lag is f*cking with my memory.”
“Damn, that long?” Cleo clicked her tongue. “Thought you’d be out of here as soon as you could leave.”
“I have paperwork,” she said lamely. She then shut her mouth when she realized that it wouldn’t take two months to do the reentry paperwork. She had finished the paperwork in three days almost three years ago, but now, the papers were smudged at the bottom of her dresser in the Chateau. “And I figured that it might be good to stick around and reconnect for a little bit. I told Sarah that I’m gonna leave after the wedding, so I only have two weeks left.”
“All right.” Cleo nodded, and Kie turned right, the sunset a bit early. She thought that since it was early May, the time zones should’ve caught up, but apparently, the clouds were already filtering out light by six in the evening. “What have you been doing for two months?” The question was piercing, and she felt her heart rate pick up, the stare she was feeling on her neck prompting her to feel defensive.
“A little of this, a little of that.” Kie fiddled with her rings on her right hand and shrugged. “Had to visit my parents, saw the Heywards. I’ve worked with JB a few days a week at his surf shop.”
“You ain’t run into him?”
She felt like time stood still, and she didn’t know why her throat had gone dry. Her skin was stretched tightly over her knuckles as she gripped the steering wheel.
“Who, Pope?”
“You’re not stupid, sister, and neither am I.” She hated the way that Cleo called her bluff. “Outer Banks be a small island.”
“I guess.” She shrugged and turned towards Cleo. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. It’s not really a big deal.” The snort told her that Cleo was doubting this, too, and Kie wanted to defend herself properly this time. It was one thing for Pope to doubt her since he never got over anything in his life, but she had nothing to owe Cleo in terms of an explanation. She had run away from her ex, too. The playing field was even. “Actually, your ex is the one that’s driving me batsh*t crazy.” Cleo clicked her tongue lightly, her dark eyes lazily examining Kie’s body language.
“Is he really, sister?”
“You know what Pope is like. He’s trying to manifest into reality that I have lingering feelings for someone I took great measures to leave behind.” She realized that if she wanted this to work, she would have to be convincing. Cleo raised her brow in confusion. “I don’t know why he thinks that, he’s been stuck on it since I got back. I swear that if he could have it his way, we’d still be on the island together for the rest of time.”
“Mm, he thinks he knows everything,” Cleo rolled her eyes, and Kie made sure to check her mirror before they turned onto the main road, her knuckles tight as she made sure to school her face to something neutral. “Don’t let him get to you, girl. He has a way to gettin’ into your mind with his ideas.”
“Usually, I’d be a pro at that, but he’s recruited Sarah on his dream team.” Kie licked over her bottom lip, and she saw Cleo shift in the passenger seat. “I think he’s uncomfortable that we’re trying to be cool again. Pope was never good at moving on.”
“Sister, do you want to f*ck your ex?” She froze, the amused tone unexpected.
“God, no.” Kie scoffed. “In six years, I’ve had better sex than JJ.” She glanced at Cleo, and she shrugged. “So if Pope tries to recruit you toward his side, ignore him. I’d love to get away from him trying to reawaken my past.”
The silence in the car was unsteady, and she was tense until she heard the soft laughter that confirmed Cleo was officially on her side.
“We’re going to a strip club tonight, sister.” Cleo grinned. “He’ll drop it when you make it clear that you’ve moved on.”
“I hope so.” Kie blew some air through her lips and let some of the pressure off the steering wheel.
“I dated him for five years, Kiara,” She pressed her lips together, and Cleo clicked her tongue. “Relax. We’re adults now. This island ain’t the end, and neither are the boys that stay here.”
She inhaled deeply, and thought that over in her mind, the phrase necessary and honestly, validating.
“Do you think Sarah will kill us for bringing her to a strip club?”
“She can’t continue that stupid one-dick rule forever, can she?” Kie laughed, and Cleo waved her hand. “You need a drink, sister; you’re all wound up over Pope Heyward.”
“Let’s get sh*t faced.” Cleo cheered, and Kie grinned. The sign that passed informed her that the hour they were spending together in the car would bring them together, not push them apart.
She looked at her wardrobe, and Cleo sat on her bed, her phone in hand, while Sarah prattled around the bathroom. She had plenty to wear; she just didn’t know if it would suit any of the clubs they were going to visit.
“Are you sure that you sent in the right measurements?” Sarah’s hair was rolled up, and Kie was just glad that the wedding frenzy was turned to someone else but her. “Because Kie picked them up today, and I want to make sure that they fit you nice, but if you’d just try it on-”
“I’m not doing it, sister.” Cleo’s voice was firm, and Sarah pouted. “Leave me the f*ck alone now, I’m trying to do my hair.” Sarah ducked back into the bathroom, and Kie mouthed a silent thank you to the sky that Cleo finally could help her stop the jitters that she had been enduring for the last two months.
“Mildly slu*tty, right?” She raised her voice so that Sarah could hear her over the music she was playing and held up the cowled shirt she had bought in Spain; her brows pinched together. “Trashy?”
“We’re going dancing!”
“I don’t know what that means,” Kie muttered, and threw the shirt on the bed with sh*t to pack for the fancy stay on Figure Eight. “There’s no good clubs in Figure Eight, Sarah. Where are we going dancing?”
“There’s a great underground club that’s new.” Sarah hooked a hoop into her ear, the powder on her chin bright white and her feathered robe shedding as she walked. She dreaded having to clean that up later but dutifully ignored it to examine some pumps that had been borrowed from her fabulous blonde friend. “Lots of cute guys, good music.”
“I thought you weren't supposed to find anyone cute but me.” John B. almost sounded like he was pouting, and Kie rolled her eyes and groaned so that he knew how pathetic he was being.
“There are other people than you in the world, Sancho.” Sarah threw her arms around his neck and smiled. “I have to make sure that my bridesmaids have fun. They’re single.”
“Not everyone mates for life, JB.” Kie murmured and held up another top. “Sarah, seriously, how slu*tty am I supposed to be? This shirt shows my nipples.” John B. wrinkled up his nose, and she raised a brow at his judgemental stare. “If you can show nipples, I can show nipples. It’s a body, JB, not an object.”
“I said nothing.” He murmured, and Cleo laughed a bit on the bed. “The boys are supposed to be here in an hour for my party.”
“Are you scared about what JJ is going to do?” Sarah played with the curls at the bottom of his hair, and John B. wrapped his arms around his future wife’s waist, the look in his eyes creating a feeling of disgust in Kiara’s stomach. That was the last time she focused on the lovebirds for the next hour, she decided and threw her next top choice on the bed next to Cleo, who was lining her lips. “I told him that he can’t take you anywhere that’s really really scary.”
“He’s JJ.” John B. sighed and shook his head. “I’m anticipating that we’re carrying home Pope tonight by the ankles.” Kie snorted, and she turned to see the reaction on Cleo’s face. Sarah had said that things were awkward between the two, and the silence that happened whenever he was mentioned confirmed it. “When are you leaving?”
“Probably in twenty minutes.” Sarah kissed him shortly, and Kie made sure to gag, the finger she received back making her smile. “Are you ready yet?”
“You still haven’t told me what I need to wear, so no.” Kie pointed to the shimmery gold top that showed off all the toning she had from exercise and tilted her head. “This good?” Sarah unlatched herself and leaned over the bed.
“Perfect.”
She snatched it up from the bed, and walked into the bathroom to change as she heard Sarah telling John B. that she would be back home in only two nights, her eyes automatically rolling. They were so codependent, maybe marriage was the best thing that could ever happen to them.
She slipped on the shimmery top and buttoned up her low-rise jeans, her nipple disappearing after she adjusted the fabric over her breast. Her hand reached for fashion tape to secure it to her body for the night, and she was impressed at the hold afterward, the fabric not budging from its place. She thought that she looked pretty sexy in the outfit. The little fabric that it had covered what was important while the best features of her body were shown off tastefully, her toned stomach feeling even more impressive after the morning surf she had that morning.
Kie fluffed out of her hair and checked to make sure that the shimmer Sarah had bullied her into putting on her eyelids was even, her turn confirming that the back string was triple knotted to ensure that no one could yank it open.
“Kie, I need to get my perfume!” She unlocked the door, and Sarah yanked it open impatiently. The silence made Kie glance over at her expression from where she was adjusting her jewelry, and the dropped jaw made her snort. “Why are you hot as f*ck?” She tried not to smile when Cleo wolf-whistled, and she shimmed her hips to be funny for just a moment before turning back towards the mirror to reattach the necklaces that she usually wore with this outfit, her arm bangle making her tan look even better than it did that morning. “Now you’re pissing me off! I’m supposed to be the bride!”
“You’re always hot, Sarah,” Kie assured, and she searched the vanity for her other earring, spotting it in the little wooden bowl that held her rings.
“I don’t look like that.” Sarah undid her robe, and Kie caught sight of the white corset top she was wearing along with her satin jeans, her blonde hair bouncing as she walked. “You’re a wet dream.”
“Sarah, you’re getting married.” Kie rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to be afraid about; you’re getting guaranteed sex for the rest of your life.” Sarah grinned, and Kie winked. "I don't get guaranteed sex."
“I guess you’re right about that.”
“Cleo, are you packed?” She slipped her earring in and grabbed the deodorant to swipe it on generously. “We should get out of here.”
“I’ve been ready, girl.” She walked out of the room to see that Cleo was adjusting the top that she had chosen to wear, the black lace accentuating her waist. “It’s been you and the bride who’s not ready.”
“I’m ready!” Sarah rushed out of the bathroom, and Kie made sure to stop her.
“Let me see.” Sarah turned around, and she made sure to cheer for her, the glittering ring the perfect addition to the tiny veil she had affixed to her head. “See, you’re sexy! You’re Sarah Cameron.”
“I’m actually going to be Sarah Routledge.” She wiggled her ring, and Kie laughed a bit under her breath. “Let’s go. I want to make sure that we get to actually enjoy the vodka lemonades.”
They shuffled out of the room, and Kie made sure to plop her packed bag on the couch before she took her purse off the island; the front door opened, making her turn to see who was coming into the house.
“I thought that you weren’t supposed to be coming for an hour!” Sarah’s whisper was terrible, frankly, and Kie turned to see a familiar head of blond hair standing in the doorway. “Is Pope with you?”
“No?” Sarah moved in the direction he was trying to get in from, and Kie leaned against the counter before checking to see if Cleo was still using the bathroom in her room. The door was shut, so that was a good sign. “Am I not allowed inside, Princess?”
“You aren’t supposed to be here yet, JJ!” Sarah’s heels clicked as she shuffled to make sure that he couldn’t get through, and she yelped a bit when his hands closed around her waist, his biceps bulging as he physically lifted her out of the way. “JJ-” She pressed her lips together at the grunt he let out when he dropped her, his brows pinched together. “Holy f*ck, JJ!”
“Pope is not with me; what is the f*cking big-” His eyes went wide, and she felt her heart stop at his open mouth. “Oh.”
“I think we were trying to make sure that Cleo and Pope don’t run into each other.” She said casually, and he blinked a few times before Sarah pushed him.
“Stop staring, you look dumb.” Her heels clicked past him, and JJ shook his head a bit, the dress shirt and jeans he was in strange to see instead of his usual outfit of a shirt and cargo pants.
“Haven’t seen you look like this in a while.” He pointed towards her, and she smiled before grabbing her clutch off the table rather quickly. “I thought you guys were doing some hotel sh*t.”
“We’re going to a club so we can dance.” Sarah checked to make sure her veil was still tucked into her picture-perfect hair and rubbed a thumb along her lipline to fix an imaginary lipstick error. “Don’t show my husband anything that he can’t erase from his mind, please.”
“What do you think I am?”
“I think that you’re JJ,” Sarah said simply, and she pulled her purse over her arm. “Let’s go; I want to have some drinks in the room.” Kie checked the time, and she realized that, including the drive, they would get to the hotel at eleven. They probably should go so that they can have some pregame time before the club. “I swear that you never go away, like, when do you leave us alone?”
“I was actually invited here, princess.” She grabbed the prepacked goldfish to stop herself from making bad decisions, and her heels clicked as she made her way toward her bag in the living room. “Don’t forget that I knew John B. first before he was puss* whipped.”
“But you’re just there all the time,” Sarah grumbled, and JJ stuck his tongue out at her as Kie bent down to grab her bag. “I’ll get it.” He scooped up the bag quickly, and she frowned.
“I’m not a damsel in distress, JJ; I can get my own bags.”
“You have heels and sh*t.” He waved to her outfit, and she swore that his Adam's apple bobbed a bit when his eyes landed on her waistline. “I have a free hand. It’s not a big deal.”
“Good, then you can take my bag, too.” Sarah shoved her suitcase into his arms, and he stumbled, Kiara laughing at her sour tone. “Let’s go, guys!” Cleo came out of the bedroom, and JJ waved a bit under the luggage, her laughter welcoming in the bickering taking place between JJ and Sarah.
“What are you, white boy, the bellman?”
“JJ Maybank, at your service.” His voice was strained, and Cleo walked past him with his bag in hand. “Don’t want my services?”
“I’m fine on my own.” She winked, and he grinned. “Thanks anyway.”
“My girl.” He murmured, and they made their way outside to the rented car from earlier, the night arm surprisingly warm for the little fabric she was wearing. She popped open the trunk of the car, and JJ pushed the suitcases into the back easily as Sarah got into the car with help from Cleo.
She found herself loitering to make sure that everything was packed safely, and JJ brushed his hands on his jeans after pushing the huge white suitcase that was the bride's inside the trunk.
“She packs a lot of sh*t,” Kie said simply, and JJ laughed, his teeth gleaming.
“Kook Princess.” They looked at each other, and she saw that he had on a gold chain rather than a shark tooth necklace, his hair looking questionably hand-styled rather than tousled by the waves. She hadn’t seen JJ actually take the time to clean himself up like this, not since their prom together. And all things considered, that was only because Yvonne had yanked him into her bathroom to fix his hair herself. “So you’re going to a club?”
“We’re making her go to a strip club too.” Kie shrugged a bit, and he scratched behind his neck. “Are you doing the same for JB?”
“I’m trying to respect the queen of his life by only taking him to a bar.” She thought that it was actually really nice of JJ to listen to Sarah’s wishes. “We’re making him drink like he used to, though."
“So who's the designated driver?”
“Um,” JJ thought about it and laughed. “Haven’t thought that far.”
“You can’t drive when you’re drunk, Jayge.”
“I know that, I know.” He shrugged. “I’ll rent somethin.”
“Where?”
“f*ck, I don’t know Kie, I’ll figure that out later.” He laughed, and she did, too. “Maybe I’ll see if Ricky’s kid is at a sleepover. He’s got a good couch.” She smiled and heard Sarah shout for her to get in the damn car.
“Her wish is my command.” Kie pointed towards the driver's seat.
“Who’s your designated driver?” She pressed her lips together and shrugged.
“Uber?”
“You sure about that?” He looked slightly worried about that idea and glanced in the car. “What about that kidnapping sh*t?”
“That doesn’t happen anymore.”
“But how do you know that, Kie? You can’t just go in a car with some bastard you don’t know. Men are evil twisted f*cks.”
“Thanks for the concern, but you’re not my boyfriend anymore, JJ. I promise I can handle myself. I did it for the last six years just fine.” The silence between them was tense, and she pressed her lips together. “I’ll get a car at the fancy as f*ck hotel to drive us there and back. That make you feel better?”
“Yeah.” She snorted, and he shook his head. “You can’t look like that and tell me you’re gonna take an Uber,” JJ mumbled, and she rolled her eyes.
“Holy f*ck, JJ, let us go!” Sarah’s head was above the sunroof, and she pounded her fists on the roof. “Come on! You’re ruining my night!”
“Chill out, Sarah!” Kie waved her hands, and JJ flipped her off. “I’m coming. He’s trying to make sure that you actually get to see us in those bridesmaid's outfits.”
“Let’s go.” Sarah disappeared, and Kie turned.
“Have fun tonight.” JJ stared at her for a minute, and she caught his tongue lick over his lips once.
“Yeah. You too.”
She felt her heartbeat in her ears when she got in the car, her knuckles gripping the steering wheel tighter than she ever had before.
The hotel that Sarah had chosen was definitely Kook sh*t, and Kie felt uncomfortable in her club clothes checking them into their room, the receptionist giving her a hard stare when she asked for extra room keys.
The room spared no details, and she grabbed the mini pretzels off the mini bar immediately as Cleo opened the tequila bottle at Sarah’s request. She was ninety percent sure that her worst memories had been made with this alcohol more than a couple of times, but she obliged their pregame drink as they tapped the custom shot glasses on the hotel table together.
They made sure that Sarah had on her custom John B. pin on her chest before they left, and her blood felt hot as they made their way to the lobby to get in the car she ordered for them, the driver wearing sunglasses despite it being well past midnight.
“Can you bring us to Clique, please?” She thought that was one of the stupidest club names she had ever heard, but Sarah began to sing at the top of her lungs when one of her favorite songs came on the radio, and her brain prompted her to at least join in so that her bachelorette trip was one that she remembered fondly.
The line that wrapped around the small opening into the ground was a little ridiculous, the golden ropes sparkling as they joined the masses of people milling about, some looking like visitors and others regulars at the country club her parents visited.
Kie tried her best to make sure that Sarah was preoccupied, and talked with the group in front of them for a while, which was another bachelorette group, the brides swapping details about their future husbands while Kiara tried to maintain her buzz mentally.
“Are you single?” The bridesmaid she was talking to had hair like she was twenty years in the past, and Kie nodded shortly. “I wish that I wasn’t single; it would make things easier at a wedding!” She didn’t share the same sentiment but told the girl confidently that she could still find Mr. Right tonight if she kept her eyes peeled.
A part of her wished that they had never started talking to the group of girls when another overshared about how it had been over a year since the last time she had sex, and she tastefully excused herself to take a fake phone call, her mouth moving like she was talking when her screen was black.
Kie never liked standing on heels, and she especially didn’t like chatting with Kooks. The combination made her feel a bit on edge as they approached the bouncer at the door, her hand digging into her pants preemptively to get out her ID.
The guys behind her tried talking a few times, but she made sure to give an unfriendly response to make them stop, their clothes feeling a little too familiar for her tastes.
“You look like my brother!” Sarah’s voice was loud, and Kie laughed to herself as the guy wrinkled his nose, the expression strangely similar to the Cameron who was sitting behind bars currently. They finally made it to the front of the line, and the bouncer opened his glittering notebook before asking for a last name.
“Cameron!” Sarah shouted, and they passed through the ropes after receiving three identical gold stamps, the group making their way down the stairs towards the thumping of the overpowered bass as the voices of the line were drowned out. They passed the group from earlier, the self professed lonely girl already being tossed in the air by a group of guys. Cleo told Kie that she would be surprised if that bridesmaid went home alone, and she snorted as they traversed their way further toward the bar.
The music was better than she expected, and the throngs of people inside were well-dressed. The dress code of mildly slu*tty was apt, and Kie felt right at home with her shimmering top among the other women who were showing an equal amount of skin, her shoulders turning as she tried to keep up with Sarah. She was really fast for someone wearing five-inch heels, and Kie’s eyes were struggling to adjust toward the blinking lights and turning disco balls.
There were performers dangling in the air that were scantily dressed, and the smell around them definitely alluded to the crowd smoking a substance that she couldn’t quite place, the people bumping against her glassy-eyed or sweaty from the dance floor. The bar was in sight, and she caught sight of Sarah’s veil, her voice dutifully shouting excuse me as she tried to catch up to her friend.
She definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this yet, because she felt more annoyed then excited when someone asked her to dance, his lips tipped up into an infuriatingly sly smile. She rejected the request, and pointed towards Sarah.
“I’m going to find my friend!” He tried to talk further, but she pretended that she couldn’t hear him, her heels clicking against the ground as she got closer. Cleo was already sipping on something, and Kie pressed her palms onto the bar to give herself something solid to hold onto; the sights and sounds were slightly overwhelming. Usually, she liked a good club. The anxiousness in her chest probably meant that she needed to get a little more tipsy.
Maybe she just needed a good f*ck. It had been a while since she had even tried to find someone to f*ck.
She waved down the bartender and ordered shots for the three of them, her heart pounding in her chest along with the music.
They clinked their shot glasses together, and Kiara tapped the bottom of her glass against the bar. The tequila was smooth against her throat, but it also burned like hell, her nose wrinkling slightly at the sensation.
“Let’s dance!” Sarah shouted, and Kie wanted to laugh that she was already wasted after two shots, her eyes unfocused and her voice unnaturally loud and unmeasured. She held up her hand momentarily, and motioned for the bartender again.
“Can I have another shot?” He nodded, and she watched him pour another into her glass, her fingers wrapping around it before tapping the glass on the bar once again. The burning was easier this time, and her veins were finally warm like she was used to, the music a little less loud as her nerves eased with the alcohol settling into her system.
“Come on, Kie!” Sarah whooped as she dragged Cleo along with her, the other girl’s eyes wide at the blonde’s insistence towards the dance floor. “Let’s go! I’m getting f*cking married!” She followed, and finally, she was enjoying her time there.
She swayed her hips along to the music and flipped her hair as she moved, her body feeling electric and her lips forming the lyrics easily as they danced. Dancing never got old for her, especially when there was tequila involved.
Her limbs were loose, and she barely noticed her heels when she turned her hips, the sweat dripping down her back as she swayed and swung her ass, her hair flying as she turned, and the air feeling warm against her skin when she lifted her hands.
A few people had joined them, and Kie watched Sarah do that horrible move that she thought was shaking her ass, the laughter in her chest uncontrollable as Cleo’s horrified expression embedded itself into her mind. She didn’t know what was funnier, her wide eyes or her attempt to get Sarah to stop, the time blending together as more gathered around them, their dancing luring in more club attendees to let loose a little bit and join in.
She grabbed the wrist of someone she thought was decently handsome, his pulse racing as she turned in his radius. She knew that her eyes were sultry, and she made her fingertips dance along his dress shirt-covered shoulder before she turned her attention to a different man. She switched the brunette boy with the blond man beside her, his participation more interesting than the last as he stepped closer toward her with half-lidded eyes, the bass rattling her bones as she swayed.
His fingertips found the bare skin of her waist, and his touch burned, her forehead hot and her mind still too fuzzy for her to properly understand what emotion she was trying to process. She decided it had been too long since she gave herself the license to explore a connection with someone new, and she turned around to grind into him gently, the wolf-whistling in the crowd making her feel confident in her choice as she grinned.
Kie flipped her hair back and stepped out of his reach before turning back around to face him, her fingertips grabbing his collar with no real force as he stepped back into her personal space, his breath hot against her neck when she skillfully reached her head out of the way of his lips.
She didn’t know why she was so picky about who she kissed.
She hadn’t kissed someone in years, actually. The last time she did, she found herself crying in a rented bedroom in Australia, and she swore that she would never do it again.
“What’s this?” His fingers brushed over her tattoo, and she glanced behind herself to see what he was referring to before the sight of the chicken made her throat grow tight. She kissed his neck in lieu of an answer, and he responded accordingly, her brain probably hurting from the tequila and not the uncomfortable squeezing of her heart.
He tried to bring her over to a corner, and she writhed under his touch until his fingers pushed and burned against the tattoo on her hip once again, his voice in her ear feeling a little too hot, and the pleasure signals that she had been enjoying before sharply turning into something that felt overstimulating and uncomfortable.
Kie stopped letting him kiss her neck, and she tried to get him off before his hand closed over her chest sharply; her brows creased, and her mind told her that this encounter was not one that she wanted to continue.
Everything was too close. He was brushing the small of her back with his thumb, and she could hear the phantom of a different voice in her ear, the sound mocking and horrifying to someone who was trying their very best to move on from an ex from six years ago.
She was over him; this wasn’t something that she had to worry about. She wasn’t picking someone based on their likeness, she didn’t gravitate to this guy because he was wearing a shark tooth necklace and some rings.
Pope was just inside her head. He was inside her head right now, and that’s why she was thinking about this when someone was kissing her neck while a man’s hands traversed her bare skin for the first time in months.
His hand cupped behind her neck, and she reeled at the memory, her hand closing around his bicep harshly as alarm bells went off in her mind, Pope’s voice wavering in and out with the loud club music and his face dancing in front of her like a f*cking ghost.
His stupid laugh echoed in her ears as the fingertips that were callused reminded her of fingertips she had felt before, and she squeezed harder, her head hurting.
This was not how Kie was going to move on with her life.
Has she ever moved on with her life, truly?
f*ck, she wasn’t over him, was she?
She pushed him back suddenly, the burning on her hip and throat fierce as his hand slipped off her chest; her lip pouted out as she panted, and her palm came to her forehead. She was just drunk; this wasn’t happening.
Pope was in her head; he was just in her head.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was loud in her ear, and she shook her head, her heels clicking as she turned out of his reach to try to find Sarah. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to find my friend!” She shouted, and she felt his hand wrap around her waist again, her hair flying as she turned. She slapped his hand off, her voice sharp. “Get the f*ck off me, man! I don’t want to f*ck you anymore!”
“Are you kidding me?” She started to walk, the bile in her throat fresh. “Bitch!” He shouted, and she flipped him off before she assimilated into the crowd again, her throat tight and the spot he touched hot as a branding iron, her nails pressing semicircles into her palm as she wandered through the crowd toward the shouting that was inevitably her Sarah. She just needed to get to Sarah. It’s just because she’s not with Sarah.
Cleo turned around, and whatever expression she had on her face was horrific, judging by the sudden shift in emotions across her features.
“Aye, what happened to you, girl?”
“I’m fine-” Kie raised her voice and tried her best to make the burning stop as she smacked the tattoo on her waist. “Just didn’t want to sleep with a guy.” Cleo frowned, and she went back to dancing beside Sarah, the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach refusing to fade as she forced herself to stuff down Pope’s infuriating laughter in her head.
Had she been choosing people based on a likeness, a quality that she didn’t even know she could spot? Had she chosen hands with calluses on her fingertips? Had she chosen blond hair just to console the part in her heart that she didn’t want to acknowledge?
Had Pope not just been in her head?
The swinging of her hips no longer felt hypnotic, and she kept her eyes on Sarah as she danced wildly, her veil crooked and the drink in her hand sloshing and staining the white corset that she had on, especially for her bachelorette weekend. Kie’s head was swimming as she thought over every partner she had since the blond who asked her about how she was getting home, his body taut and his throat long as he stared.
She shook her head physically to stop her mind from spiraling, but it didn’t work. No matter how much she tried to compose herself, it wouldn’t stop the feeling against her skin; her brain feeling overfull and overwhelming. Sarah collapsed into her arms after an unidentifiable amount of time, the clock far past two and the tattoo on her hip flaming as they dragged her up the stairs of the golden shimmering club.
The rented car from earlier was waiting for them in the parking lot, and Cleo and Kie lifted Sarah into the back seat with a bit of struggle, her soft grunt happy but exhausted as the radio in the car thumped softly in comparison to the large speakers hanging in the club underneath their feet.
She stared out the window on the way back; her lips pressed together as Sarah babbled in the background for another vodka lemonade while the look on her face confirmed that she needed to be dumped into a bed as soon as possible. The hotel appeared in the blink of an eye, and they struggled to get up into the room, Cleo and Kie dragging Sarah in as gently as possible until they made it to the elevator, the blonde singing along terribly to the song that was playing inside the elevator.
“What’s wrong with you sister?” Cleo’s voice was flat, and if she was under the influence, it didn’t feel like it, her throat tight as she avoided her stare like she did six years ago. “You drink too much?”
“Yeah,” She deflected, and her arm tightened around Sarah when the door opened, her skin tingling in the place that the placeholder who didn’t fit her true wishes had touched. “My feet hurt too.”
They stumbled down the hall, and Cleo somehow got their room key out, the green flash welcome as they promptly led Sarah to her room, her mumbles soft. Kie went to the bathroom, and took the makeup wipes they had specifically packed off the vanity, the tearing of the package feeling a little like the open wound in her mind.
Pope just is in your head, she thought, her hand dutifully wiping off her friend’s foundation and lipstick until it was a muddled puddle of color on the cloth. She threw the used one into the wastebasket on the floor and worked on taking off Sarah’s eye makeup, her heart beating out of her chest as she repeated to herself that Pope was freaking her out.
She was not in love with JJ.
She was over him.
You’re just in your head, Kiara.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a while after Sarah was dressed in her night clothes, her hair wild and the faint bruise on her collarbone feeling like another mistake that would be held against the tequila shots she took earlier, her eyes tired and her body defeated.
“I’m going to bed now.” Cleo looked in, and she curled a brow. “You’re not ok.”
“I hate Pope.” She murmured, and Cleo leaned against the doorpost, her face a mixture of confused and pitiful. “I want to f*cking murder him.”
“Now, what did he do to you?”
“I hate that he’s a know it all bitch, and that he’s getting in my head.” Kie pressed her palm against her head while she maintained her cold stare at herself, and she stubbornly wiped away a tear. She wasn’t going to live like this, crying over something that wasn’t supposed to be true. “I f*cking promise that I am not in love with my ex, Cleo. I am not some girl who,” She sniffled and looked back at her. “Let’s Pope Heyward get in my f*cking head. He thought I was in love with him too, and look how wrong he was.“
“I believe you, sister.” Cleo settled her hand on her shoulder, and Kie stared at herself a little harder in the mirror. “You just don’t believe in yourself.” She nodded, and Cleo squeezed. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright? It’s just the alcohol.” She halfway closed the door behind her, and Kie laughed at herself in the mirror of the bathroom, the noise haunting as it echoed against the extra tall walls.
You’re not over him, her mind whispered, and you know it, you liar.
She stared at herself a little more in the mirror until she sunk down onto the tile of the bathroom, her gaze on the shifting ceiling.
“I should’ve never come back here.”
Her eyes fell shut without her permission, and the world went black.
Kie's eyes opened, and the first thing her body registered was the pain in her forehead, along with the sound of running water.
Obviously, sometime after she passed out on the floor last night, one of the girls had taken the time to put a robe underneath Kie’s head as a faux pillow. It didn’t really help, but she was thankful that someone at least thought of her, her neck aching in time with the pounding in her temples.
“Good Morning.” Sarah’s voice sounded scratchy, and Kie rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, the tile feeling a lot rougher than it did last night against her bareback. She had to give it to the fashion tape; it held in place, even through a night of dancing, self-loathing, and sleeping on a linoleum floor. “Ugh, I hate what vodka lemonades do to my face. It makes me so puffy.” She turned toward Kie, and her face matched the description pretty perfectly. Her vision struggled from the combination of newly awakening and her hangover, but it was easy enough to acknowledge that Sarah’s eyes and jaw were swollen due to inflammation. “This is gonna suck ass if I want any photos at tonight’s yacht party.”
“What yacht party?” Kie’s voice was croaky, and she attempted to sit up before the world spun, the little food she had consumed last night coming for revenge. She crawled over to the toilet next to her, and let it loose, Sarah groaning at the sound of liquid hitting the water.
“Did I forget to tell you last night?” Her voice was frail, and Kie leaned up from the toilet to feel hands close around her hair to hold it out of the way. “f*ck, I must’ve been too drunk. Sancho surprised me and told me that he rented out a yacht for our engagement party tonight. He felt bad that you missed the last one.” Kie retched into the bowl, and Sarah patted her back weakly. “You know, tonight, we really shouldn't drink. Maybe we should practice being sober for once.” Kie nodded and promptly retched again.
It was two in the afternoon by the time Kie made her way off the bathroom floor into a shower, the loofah scrubbing against her skin almost heavenly as the grime from the night before visibly washed away, her hair sticking to her back when she tipped her face under the steady stream of warm water.
She squinted at the offending light of the open curtains when she stepped back into their shared hotel room, her duffel bag sitting neatly on the covers with fresh clothes for the day as Cleo worked through her curls with her own brush, her eyes closed underneath the sunglasses that were perched on her nose to block out any remaining sunlight presumably.
The more her mind came back to her, the more she wondered how JB got the money to do a wedding and a yacht party, her toes tucked underneath her legs as she attempted to reconnect with herself after the night before, her memory beginning to click into place the longer she was awake. She’d have to ask him that later.
Kie ignored the custom pajamas that Sarah packed in their bags, and she pulled on her jeans shorts and a comfy top, her hair creating wet patches as she tried her best not to be nauseous when she stood.
Sarah was right; they had to stop depending on alcohol when they wanted to have a good time. She distinctly remembered when they were teenagers, getting up the next day like nothing happened, and now, everything just hurts like hell. That was the perk of getting older, though, right?
“I’m only twenty-four.” She moaned, her back aching from her night on the floor. “I shouldn’t be feeling like this at twenty-four.”
“Amen to that.” Sarah held up her hand in the air from where she was lying on the bed, and Kie turned to stare at where Cleo was facing the wall, her head propped up on a pillow while the rest of her body was flat on the small couch next to the minibar. The good news was that they didn’t have to do any activities for another four hours or so. It’s not like that made the hangover any better, though. “What about greasy food? Doesn’t that help hangovers?”
“I think so.” Kie picked up the room phone and dialed the number for room service, her fingers kneading out the ache the best they could. “I guess we should eat.”
The food did help a little bit, especially her queasy stomach. Kie appreciated that Cleo didn’t mention her meltdown from the night before, the bacon that came as a side to their pancakes, the perfect mixture of fattening for a hangover breakfast. She couldn’t bring herself to care that she was breaking her vegan streak, her hand reaching for the eggs as Sarah munched away on a waffle happily while her headache began to ease.
“Talk to me about this yacht party.” She set the bacon back down on her plate, and Sarah glanced up momentarily, her cheeks full of her food.
“Oh.” She swallowed and shook out her shoulders. “We’re just going to the marina and spending the night on a boat. That’s all.”
“No dressing up?”
“Nope.” Sarah rubbed her eyes. “Even if I wanted to look nice, my face is like puff pastry.” Cleo laughed a bit under her breath, and she focused on what was remaining on her plate, her stomach suddenly uneasy at the idea of everyone together on the boat. “We’ll check out and head over there,” Sarah calculated the time in her head, and Kie pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head. “In an hour or so?”
“Sounds good to me,” Cleo murmured, and she nodded twice to show that she had heard the requests.
“Yeah, that sounds cool.” No one acknowledged that Kie had left her plate half full, and the three of them started packing their bags after a chat about something that she wasn’t paying attention to.
She didn’t have much to pack due to her lack of unpacking, and the checkout process was the easiest part of her day by far. They handed in their keys to the lady at the front desk, and Kie glanced at her phone, the battery almost on zero and neglected since last night. She pressed her lips together at the text time stamped just after four in the morning from JJ asking if they had made it back safe. She made sure to slip the phone into her pocket after reading the follow-up text, saying, “Knowing you, you probably kicked their asses.”
She was thankful that Sarah was sober enough to drive and lay her head against the glass of the window as they drove through Figure Eight, the day annoyingly sunny for someone miserably hungover, her hands tucked into the hoodie she had slid over her head. She tried to close her eyes and found that she wasn’t sleepy, then hated herself for still thinking about the encounter with the guy last night.
Even if Kie wanted to act like what happened last night wasn’t a direct result of the numerous conversations she had with Pope, she couldn’t stop putting together the interconnected dots, the strange habits that she had picked up and never unpacked.
She tended to gravitate towards people who lived life a little more loosely, a little more recklessly, a little more playfully. Maybe that was because she liked someone who didn’t take themselves too seriously. Maybe the real explanation stared at her in the face, with big blue eyes and a crooked smile, an apology fresh on his lips, and an awkward scratch behind his neck.
What excuse did Kiara have now?
That she didn’t want to f*ck him? That much was proved wrong by the placeholder she tried to pursue last night; his fingertips were just too different in comparison to her yearning for the real thing.
Maybe it was that it would overcomplicate things, or maybe it was that if they tried again, she would be forced to leave Outer Banks for the rest of her life. Maybe she was scared that she would never quite escape JJ’s gravitational pull, or that intentionally or not, she would find her way back to Rixons, staring at the constellations the freckles on his chest made with the ink of her initial on his shoulder.
Maybe it was that she knew that she wasn’t capable of being around him without being beside him, or maybe it was that she knew that she wanted more than anything to feel those fingertips against her skin just once more, in a context that wasn’t awkward or a lie or platonic.
Maybe she was scared that JJ and her were interlinked, not just by tattoos or swapped fluids, but by something that requires a commitment she might never be able to fulfill, judging by her ability to make a real commitment of being honest about her whereabouts to her own parents.
She yanked the hoodie over her hickie a little further even though it couldn’t be seen, the thoughts swarming in her mind the exact thing she had been trying to avoid as Cleo hummed softly in the background. She closed her eyes and told herself that was enough thinking for probably the rest of the year.
“We’re here!” She opened her eyes to see that they had reached the marina, Sarah’s voice carrying a melody as she shifted into park. “I think the boys are going to take our stuff for us.” Her throat was tight, and they all made their way out of the car, their feet hitting the concrete of the parking lot.
“You alright?” She turned to Cleo, her sunglasses firmly fixed upon her nose. “Remember, sister, this island ain’t the end, and neither are the boys.”
“Yeah,” Kie closed her hands into fists and inhaled deeply. “Ok.” She turned to Cleo, who peered over her sunglasses with a slight smile on her face. She laughed lightly and shook her head. “I won’t let it get to my head if you don’t let it get to yours.”
“I ain’t ever let some boy get in my head,” Cleo said confidently. “It’s why me and him never worked.” Kie let that sink into her skin, and she smiled.
“I’ll take a page out of your book then.” She heard the familiar shouts of the Pogues that she knew so well and turned to see them making their way down the dock, John B. waving happily in the air.
“Yacht’s down here!” He sounded suspiciously happy for someone who was supposed to have been miserably drunk last night, and Kie walked back to the trunk so that she could work on unloading the bags.
She should’ve known that the quick footsteps on the tarmac would’ve been him, but still, even after the two months she was here, she felt like the air had been punched out of her, and her brain had stopped at the sight of his blond hair. It was like every time she saw him; someone was reopening a chapter that was unfinished and digging in the wound, testing her character and seeing if she would grow.
She hated that she couldn’t take her eyes off how his Adam's apple bobbed, or how he had shoved a cap backward onto his saltwater-tousled blond hair, or how she could clearly see his sun freckles on his biceps.
“Let me get that for you, princess.” JJ pulled her duffel out of the trunk, and she stood there numbly, the hickie on the side of her neck burning with the placeholder’s lips when his were right there, pressed together with the effort of unloading luggage. “Hey, you ok?” She blinked out of her daze, and his brows were knitted together with concern. “Hungover?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to grab Sarah’s second bag. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to carry my sh*t. I’m more than capable of doing this by myself.”
“When will you learn that I want to do it?” He winked, and the place where those fingertips brushed against her hip was like a brand in her skin. “Besides, you look a little out of it. Why not?” Kie swallowed hard and watched the veins in his forearm appear as he yanked out the white suitcase from earlier. “I heard Sarah got sh*tfaced. Her face looks like when she drinks vodka lemonade, it’s all swollen and sh*t. Hopefully, the Pope and Cleo sh*t ends up ok; he actually is here this time-” Kie just stood there, her eyes trained on where his shirt had ridden up, and she felt JJ lightly tap her shoulder. “Let’s go to the boat, princess. I’ll get you some painkillers and some water.”
“Ok.” She murmured, her throat tight and her body on fire as he lightly guided her towards the dock.
“And maybe some sunglasses.” JJ laughed lightly. “What did you have to drink yesterday?”
“Tequila,” She said softly. “I always feel weird after tequila.”
“Want me to make you something?” She stopped when she saw Pope on top of the second floor of the boat, that same sh*t-eating grin on his face like the other night at the beach. It was like he was saying I caught you, his arms crossed and his eyes trained on where JJ was leading Kie by the small of her back.
“I’m fine, JJ.” Her voice was a little harsh, and JJ wrinkled up his nose. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m a kid.”
“You’re not a kid.” He laughed under his breath. “You’re my friend. I’m allowed to care, you know. Let me take care of you.” She stared at him, and he smiled. “I know that I haven’t done everything right, but let me make it right now.”
She pressed her lips together, and the moment was interrupted by a loud bang, the two of them turning to see that Sarah had dropped her white suitcase on the ground.
“Sorry!” She grinned, and JJ just laughed.
“See, princess? That’s why you let me do it for you.” He patted her on the shoulder, and Kie watched his muscles bulge as he easily picked up Sarah’s bag alongside her own, his movements easy as he made his way on the boat.
She looked at where Pope stood on the boat, a smile on his face while he waved smugly. She made sure that she waved back, the smile on her lips thin to mask the panic she felt now that she was fresh out of excuses as to why she shouldn’t just slightly want to feel her ex’s touch on her skin six years later.
“I’m f*cked, aren’t I?” She whispered.
The laughter on the boat told her that, yes, she was thoroughly f*cked, or she would be if she didn't get the f*ck off of this island and the f*ck away from JJ Maybank.
