▌𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘒𝘚
❛ being with you is the last thing i thought would make sense to me. ❜
❛ you're an asshole. ❜
❛ but you still love me ❜
. . ⋆｡˚🫧 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 ━━━━
𝙟𝙟 and 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙚 refuse to admit that they are falling in 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 wit...
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ʚɞ °｡⋆ ⸜ 🌼
CHAPTER TWO : "HURRICANE AGATHA"
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We're the Pogues.
And our mission this summer, is to have a good time, all the time.
The Pogues were hanging around a half-finished mansion on Figure Eight, a sprawling structure that looked down on the quiet coastline, bathed in moonlight. John B balanced precariously on a roof beam, his heels dangling over a dizzying drop to the deck below. Gracie sat with her legs swinging over the edge of a nearby board, JJ next to her, just close enough for her to elbow if he got too cocky, which she expected at any second.
Pope stood below, squinting up at John B. "That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?" he deadpanned.
Gracie rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Yeah, John B, maybe stick to boardwalk stunts."
Pope continued, "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."
John B just shrugged, cocky as ever. "Hm," he muttered, eyes fixed on the drop.
JJ smirked, nudging Gracie. "You think he'll do it?"
Gracie leaned back, smirking. "Only if he's got a death wish."
John B, ignoring them, took a step closer to the edge. Should I do it?" he called down.
Pope shook his head. "Yeah, jump." He paused, adding with a shrug, "I'll shoot you on the way down."
John B raised an eyebrow, amused. "You'll shoot me?"
Pope's voice was deadpan. "Yep. Pow."
Before anyone could add to the banter, Kiara wandered out from inside, looking vaguely disgusted as she scanned the mansion. "They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers."
Gracie snorted. "Because rich people need warm towels, obviously."
Kiara shot her a conspiratorial grin. "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?" She tilted her head, frowning in mock disapproval. "I can't have cold towels."
