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Poguelandia.
“Fuck, marry, kill.”
Cleo rolls her eyes. “That’s a stupid game.”
The sound of Sarah’s laughter cuts through the night air, covering the crackling of the bonfire. “Come on. It’s fun.”
A million little stars are shining over their heads, looking brighter than they ever would from the OBX. The boys have ventured somewhere into the wild, looking for something else to eat after the fish they all shared for dinner, and Kiara wonders if they’d pretend not to be interested in the answers of this game.
Being stranded on a desert island for weeks (Poguelandia, as they have rebaptized it) has shed new light on dynamics she hadn’t caught up with before; like the heated looks Cleo throws at Pope every now and then, and Pope’s brows furrowing when their eyes cross. Sarah and John B. are still sickeningly in love, but that was already known. As for JJ… she still doesn’t know what to make of JJ.
“You know what,” Sarah declares, “I can answer for Kiara.”
Kiara raises an eyebrow. “You can?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I know stuff.”
She pretends to think about it for a moment, then goes: “Fuck Pope, marry John B, kill JJ.”
“You seriously think I would marry John B?”
“Well, I know you kissed him before we met. He told me!”
There’s no hostility in Sarah’s words, just teasing. Kiara thanks god enough time has passed for that kiss not to be an awkward topic of conversation, but something they can all look back at and laugh about. “I’m sorry, he kissed me. And it lasted two seconds.”
Sarah shrugs. “Still, there was a little something. And we know there was more than a little something with Pope.”
At her side, Cleo shakes her head. “You calling Kie a homie hopper, girl?”
That causes another fit of laughter. “Never,” Sarah says. “I’m just saying, history proves that out of all three, she would kill JJ.”
Curled on her little piece of wood, Kie lowers her eyes and buries her fingers in the sand.
“Maybe not kill,” Cleo points out. “Just avoid at all costs.”
Sarah’s laugh is so infectious. Kie can’t help but roll her eyes and bask in her friends’ smiles, in the coziness of their little corner of paradise. What’s the point in correcting them, anyway?
No point in talking about those glances she shoots at JJ every once in a while, trying to figure out what is going on in his head. Or about the way he throws his hair back with his hand when he’s nervous – she had never noticed it before, but she does now.
And she definitely doesn’t mention that lately she has been thinking about him way more than she should.
They don’t need to know any of that.
*
After Poguelandia.
Kiara might be slightly wasted, although she’s not sure how that happened.
The mood has been down for a while since they’ve been rescued from Poguelandia. Someone suggested going to some bonfire party – was it her? She doesn’t remember. She had something to drink, and then the drink became two drinks, and one thing leads to another; so she found herself in the middle of a crowd of jumping kids with loud-as-fuck music ringing in her ears, her friends all but disappeared.
Not JJ, though. She hasn’t lost him from her line of sight ever since they got out of the van and he went straight to the open bar. The fact that a hot blonde girl is serving beers could be a lucky coincidence, but still, he hasn’t moved from there all night.
He is giving her that devil-may-care smile of his, leaning toward her while she’s laughing, and maybe calling him an idiot. Even if she can’t hear their voices, Kie recognizes the scene: JJ, playing the class clown to impress some chick he doesn't even know. He used to act the same way with her, not too long ago.
On the island it seemed like there might still be a spark of something between them. Sometimes she caught him staring at her, then turning away as soon as he noticed she had noticed. Her heart skipped a beat when that happened. And she has been dropping hints, hasn’t she? A lingering touch when she passed him a joint, some silly excuses to spend time together. But either he doesn't grasp or he doesn't care; he hasn’t put the moves on her for so long.
She keeps dancing, empty cup in her hand; doesn’t even realize she’s making her way to the bar. “JJ!”
Somehow her voice reaches him over the music. He gives her a doubtful look but doesn’t really protest when she dumps the cup to grabs his arm instead, dragging him away from the stool.
“Kie, are you high?” JJ screams, or at least his lips move to form similar words.
She is not paying much attention, just dancing and feeling the music and the sand under her feet; getting closer to him and then moving back.
He looks handsome tonight – white shirt open on his chest, the golden lights of the bonfire reflecting on his hair while he moves in and out of the shadows. He’s not really dancing – more like, shifting from one foot to the other – but he’s not getting away either. Just looking at her with a goofy smile.
And it happens again: her breath catches in her throat.
Sometimes their eyes meet, and Kiara feels like they share a secret that goes unspoken and no one can touch; a delicate, invisible tether that must be protected from everyone else because, if they knew, then the spell would be broken.
She raises a hand to brush his arm, then moves it to his shoulder until they’re dancing so close their noses are almost touching – or rather she’s dancing and he’s staring, breath coming out in short puffs of air. Her gaze lowers to his lips.
“Kie?”
His fingers close around her arms, putting a little distance between them. “You’re wasted.”
Kie freezes. “So you don’t like me anymore, uh?”
“What?”
The music is pounding in her ears and words start flying on her tongue like a river in flood.
“I don’t know, a while ago I thought you liked me but maybe you don’t.” She tries to take a step closer (or stumbles against him, since he seems determined to keep her at arm’s length). “Why not? I like you,” she blurts out.
At this point the light must be playing tricks on her, because she actually spots a glint of hope in his eyes. “You do?”
“Of course I do! You’re my best friend.”
“Could you guys get a room?”
Cleo emerges from somewhere in the crowd, John B and the others coming right after her, and JJ lets go of Kie’s arms like he's been burned.
Kiara loves her friends - really, she does. She just wishes they weren't around all the time.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asks, and Pope gives them a weird look too.
“Nothing’s going on.” JJ runs a hand through his hair. “Are you high?”
That comment feels like a pang in Kie's chest. They were in the middle of something there, closer than they've ever been; she couldn’t have been more honest if she'd tried (although she probably shouldn't have put "I like you" and "You're my best friend" in the same sentence, and even in her head the words sounded like the blabbering of a drunkard). And just like that, the moment is gone, and the other Pogues are laughing and shaking their heads at the mere idea there might be something between them.
Why does she even care, anyway? Her head is spinning. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
Soon enough they’re making their way out of all that mess, and the chirping of crickets and the wind blowing seem to clear her mind a little bit.
JJ is walking next to her, quiet, lost in his own thoughts. It's weird to see him like this; usually you can't keep up with him - hyperactive JJ, always moving, throwing hands, falling all over himself. His silence makes her heart constrict.
“Jayj.”
Kiara waits for her friends to move a little further before she continues. “I’m sorry.”
That is a very weak apology, she thinks; what is she even apologizing for?
JJ shrugs. “It’s alright.”
No one else is listening. He takes a look at her, the ghost of a smile hanging on his lips; and once again it’s like there’s no need to say anything else.
“Between us,” he adds.
“But…”
“What?” He nods at the Pogues, walking at a short distance. “You really think I'm gonna tell everyone you threw yourself at me?”
“I didn’t!”
“I mean, you kinda did.”
Kiara hits his shoulder with a light punch, making him laugh. “I’m not gonna say a word! I’m a gentleman,” he says, raising his head proudly. “Didn’t even take advantage of the situation.”
She snorts. “That’s the bare minimum, Jayj. And I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
*
Home.
The wind is still, and the sea’s breaking against the sand in gentle waves; laughs and giggling are a light echo in the quietness of the beach. Kiara feels her eyelids getting heavier; the flames of the bonfire are warming her skin, and JJ’s arms around her make the best pillow she could ask for.
He’s taken a habit of reaching for her bracelets, brushing her wrists just with the tip of his fingers and making her shiver. No one notices. Just like no one else can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the thumping of his heart against her shoulders.
In the house they share with their friends they’ve built their own small bubble, where the rest of the world can’t touch them. She thinks she would gladly stay in this position forever - if it weren’t for his hand travelling over her skin, for the itch spreading between her legs.
“Jayj,” she murmurs, sliding her hand under his shirt, all but deaf to the other Pogues’ chatting.
“What?”
His lips are already curved in a smile when, in response, she starts pressing soft kisses on his neck.
“Don’t you get handsy when you drink.”
She does. Moments later they’re bidding their friends goodnight – while they whistle after them – and JJ is slamming the door of their room behind him, while she tugs at his shirt and kisses his neck, his cheek, wherever she can reach. They stumble against JJ's surfing board, move past Kiara's plants hung on the wall.
As he pushes her on the bed he makes an appreciative sound, and a laugh bursts out of Kie’s lips.
“What,” he asks in between kisses, and she loves how out of breath he already is.
“Sarah thought I would kill you.”
“No shit.”
“No. I mean, in Poguelandia.” She laughs with him, his fingers tickling on her hips. Those memories feel like they belong to another life - a happy one, although this one is even happier. “We were playing fuck, marry, kill. She had no idea I was into you.”
“Mmm.”
She buries a hand in his hair as her hips push against him, looking for friction, and her fingers make their way to his belt. The sound of their labored breathing is filling the room; all she can smell, and feel, and want is JJ, in her arms. She almost jumps when he speaks again: “So which one was I?”
“What?”
“Fuck, marry or kill?”
Kie smiles. “Which one do you think?”
“Judging from right now,” he grins, as he lowers his forehead to touch hers, “definitely fuck.”
A surge of hotness rushes to her cheeks and they’re kissing again, her lips parting under the insistence of his tongue. “All three of them,” she says as soon as she catches her breath.
JJ laughs. “So you were already into me, uh? Back in Poguelandia?”
“Like you weren’t.”
He shakes his head, still grinning; that earns him another punch.
“Oh, oh, you weren’t? Really? Maybe you don’t even like me now.”
“I don’t, I don’t like you.”
“Oh, you don’t?”
“I fucking love you.”
His eyes are shining so bright they could swallow the whole sea. This, Kie thinks, this is what home looks like. JJ smiling against her lips, in the house they made for themselves, with this light in his eyes that only she can see (because it's only for her).
The rest of the world doesn’t exist; if it comes for them, they will defeat them all.