Surfs up, bitch! · Y/n story by @dessa

The Outer Banks heat hit different at night. Sticky. Heavy. The kind of warm that clung to your skin like a second layer.

JJ Maybank

elbows you, a red Solo cup already in his hand Told you. Told you this party was gonna be lit.

Kiara

eyes rolling, but she's smiling You said that about the abandoned beach shack last week. We got chased by a raccoon.

JJ Maybank

Exactly. Lit.

Pope Heyward

adjusting his hat, scanning the crowd nervously Can we maybe not get kicked out in the first hour? My dad's already on thin ice with the Kook Association.

John B. Routledge

voice low, eyes fixed somewhere across the yard Too late.

He was staring at the far end of the pool. Sarah Cameron stood in a white sundress, laughing at something Topper was saying, his hand resting too long on her lower back.

Rafe Cameron

Should've known the Pogues would crawl out the woodwork tonight.

You turned. He was leaning against the house, beer in hand, eyes dragging down your body slow and deliberate. His jaw was sharp, his t-shirt wet at the collar like he'd already been in the pool.

Rafe Cameron

smirking Especially you.