One Stupid Thing

1:1:6

As night creeps in and the stars begin to shine, we finally arrive at the Château, a nickname created for John B's house on the Cut. In a rush, we all file out onto the dock and gather around John B as he retrieves his findings from his backpack.

"What do you guys think it is?" Kie asks as she tosses her hair around.

John B fumbles with the zipper. "Gotta be money or something, right?"

"That or a couple of keys with street value to the low-to mid-mils!" JJ adds in.

"Ooh! Maybe it's some kind of expensive gift or something! Someone with a Grady White must carry important and valuable things," I chime in hopefully.

Pope interrupts our fun and snaps, "Can we please just open the bag?" We all go silent and look at him in surprise.

John B says what everyone else is thinking. "Wow, Pope. That's a rare outburst of emotion from you."

The rest of us begin to agree when Pope exclaims, "Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Just open the bag."

"Jeez," JJ says.

Trying to explain himself, Pope replies, "We almost died over this."

Reaching into his backpack, John B pulls out a silver, metal canister, waterproof I presume. He scrambles to twist it open and struggles at first, but eventually, the top screws off and he dumps the contents out into the palm of his hand. A small, metal compass is revealed. Something in John B changed the moment he saw the trinket. He seemed so far away even though he was only crouched right in front of me. He runs a delicate thumb over the surface and flips it open. A quite underwhelming unveiling.

"Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right. Good job, everybody. We found a compass," Pope groans.

JJ tears off his hat in frustration, but along with me, notices John B's interest in the trinket. "Dude, what? It's not worth anything."

"This was my father's," John B mumbles. It was barely audible, but I understood him just fine. What I didn't understand was how some random person with a Grady White would be in possession of a compass that once belonged to John B's father.

Kie lays a supportive hand on John B's shoulder. "Hey, let's go inside," she suggests softly. John B just nods and, without ever taking his eyes off of the compass, stands up, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and walks up the dock towards the shore. Pope and JJ start to proceed after them.

"Stella, you comin'?" JJ paused to ask. His voice breaks into my thoughts. I nod and follow the group up to the home and inside.

The Château is a quaint place. It has a screened in porch for the front entrance which we walk through to get inside. It also includes two small bedrooms, one bathroom, a pull-out couch in the living room, and even a wood-burning fireplace. It's no Tannyhill and that is exactly why I love it. The Château has that sense of warm and cozy that my own home lacks.

As I stand there taking in my new surroundings, the rest of the group is making sleeping arrangements.

"Hey, uh, Kie you can take my room," John B offers.

"Are you sure?" she replies.

"Yeah, go ahead. I, um, I need some time to think, so I will be out on the porch if anyone needs me." John B glances down at the compass and, without saying another word, walks off towards the front door.

"I think I'm just gonna crash on the couch, so the spare room is all yours, JJ. It's practically your room anyways." Pope yawns and begins to unfold the couch.

"Alright. Goodnight, guys." Kie turns and heads for John B's room.

"Night, Kie," I say softly.

JJ begins to head towards the spare room and, not exactly knowing what to do, I follow him in. I step inside and he closes the door behind us. The lighting is dim. It's only source is a singular lamp on the bedside table. For the first time ever, it's just JJ and I in one room together. Completely alone. Feeling a tinge awkward, I try to save him the burden of having to find a place for me to sleep. "Look, I could fall asleep anywhere. Honestly, I could just crash in the van outside or something."

"Nonsense, alright? You take the bed. I can sleep on the floor."

"No. No, I can't do that. Like Pope said, it's practically your room. I couldn't take your bed."

"Seriously, Stella. It's fine. There's a sleeping bag in the closet that I was planning on using."

"O-okay. If you insist."

At that moment, the feeling of my damp swimsuit begins to bother me. I watch as he gets the sleeping bag out from the closet and rolls it out beside the bed. He notices me standing there and stops. "What's up?" he asks.

"It's just, um, my swimsuit. It's just a bit wet from earlier, when I tied my shirt to the chain."

"Gotcha, well...you could always go naked." He gives me a cheeky look. I return the glance, although I am a bit taken aback. His smirk softens. "Kie keeps a few things in the top drawer of that dresser. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed anything."

I just nod in response. As he continues to make a makeshift bed on the floor, I look through the drawer and manage to find a pair of tight pajama shorts that look like they would fit me. I would have to go commando, but oh well. I would wash them for her before I returned them anyways.

"Hey, uhm, JJ. I can't seem to find any tops in here."

He stops what he is doing, grabs a shirt out of the closet, and hands it to me. "Would this work?"

He gave me one of his shirts. Oh my god. Someone pinch me. "Uh, yeah. This is perfect."

He smiles slightly. "Oh, uh, I will let you change. I have to go to the bathroom quick anyways."

"Thanks."

He leaves the room and closes the door quietly behind him. I take off my damp suit and slip on the dry clothes. I immediately feel more comfortable. A few moments later, I hear a soft knock on the door.

"Come in, JJ," I answer. He opens the door, walks in the room and closes it behind him. I lift up the covers and climb into bed.

"Is everything-" JJ begins.

"Perfect. Everything's perfect. Thank you."

"Yeah. No problem." He seats himself on the floor and reaches up to turn off the light. "Goodnight, Stella," he says and turns the lamp off.

"Goodnight, JJ."

We both shuffle a bit to get comfortable and then everything is silent until, eventually, I fall into a deep and comfortable sleep.

——
Ooooo! The one bed trope, well, sorta.