'she's kook fuckin' royalty, man.'
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a lot of things go unnoticed in the outer banks. things like missing millions in gold, underage drinking, and the bruises that litter the skin of the kook princess.
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( run like hell )
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THE SUMMER AIR FELT DIFFERENT WHEN LUCY RETURNED TO THE PARTY. It was no longer welcoming. The hum of conversation was no longer quiet, but piercing. Lucy placed a hand on the bannister to steady herself for the second time that evening, and surveyed the scene in front of her.
She felt as though the eyes on her were scratching her skin. She shook her head quickly, but it did little to dispel the thoughts that were racing through her mind. That didn't surprise her.
There was a commotion in the midst of the crowd as Lucy made her way down the stairs, and through the crush of people she could make out Pope's familiar form, his arms around an equally recognisable blond. Kiara was stood with her parents in the far corner of the lawn, looking decidedly unhappy to be there. Her brow furrowed. JJ, Kiara, John B, and now Pope. All four Pogues very firmly in Kook territory. A cool blanket of dread settled over her shoulders. Perhaps she was right to be feeling danger in the air.
Lucy's attention was quickly pulled away, though, by the warmth of a body behind hers.
"Baby," a familiar voice slurred, two hands settling like a belt on her hips. Putting on her best syrupy-sweet smile, Lucy turned in his arms, her eyes meeting Rafe's cool gaze. She reached one hand up to cup his jaw, her thumb tracing along the sharp line of his cheekbone. For a moment, his eyes fluttered close. For a moment, he was hers.
"Are you having a good night?" She asked him softly, and they made eye contact once more. He shrugged, resembling a petulant teenager more than an almost grown man.
"'Salright," he drawled, alcohol on his breath, and pulled her in closer, her hips bumping against his, "Better now." Lucy laughed lightly, hiding her confusion. She dropped her hand, resting it against his bicep.
"People are looking," she whispered, her voice playful, and she saw something shift in his eyes before he responded. He wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking somewhere over her shoulder. Lucy had a bad feeling she knew exactly what he had seen.
"Yeah, I know," his voice was low, and he had a dangerous set to his jaw. The slur from earlier was gone, his voice sharp as a knife.
He whistled.
"Hey, Pogue!" Rafe barked the words, too loudly for a party like this one. Lucy swallowed around the lump in her throat, the hands at her hips more of a weight than a comfort. Their grip tightened, and he pulled her around roughly so that her back was against his chest. She stumbled, almost tripping over her own feet at the force of it. Her expression was schooled into a fake calm.
As she had suspected, while Rafe held her against him, she came face to face with JJ. Pope, at least, was gone.
She made an effort to look anywhere but at JJ's face. She didn't want to give Rafe any excuse. Lucy went soft in his arms, pliant against him, and his fingers dug in hard.
