𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 teenage Ophelia Armani Routledge has a secret, that she'll never tell.
The pogues, JJ, John B, Kiara and Pope nickname her Phi. Pronounced Fee. Ophelia falls madly for JJ, the troublemaker of the group, but when dipping into both ge...
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"YOU'RE ALWAYS GETTING WHAT YOU WANT, AREN'T YOU? NO WONDER."
Now playing: Left hand free - by alt-J
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THE SUN BAKES DOWN on Phi's already tinted skin. Living in the OBX for a couple years really trains your skin to love the heat.
She sees the Twinkie, the Pogues Volkswagen van, parked outside a house construction site and becomes relieved, all this walking made her legs grow abs.. if that's even possible. She pulls her hair to her left shoulder and hops the fence, walking inside the open and unfinished back entrance. The entire place smells like sawdust and shit.
She walks up the stairs and hears the boys chatting out on what looks like a balcony. She sees beers and that is how she knows the Pogues are there. It's like their trademark, or logo. She shows herself behind the shadows of the site and JJ and Pope turn to notice her. "Phi! What took you?" Pope asks, snooping at the construction tools. JJ eyes her whilst sitting on one of the wooden planks, beer in hand.
She tucks her hair behind her ears as JJ narrows his eyes at her, sipping from his beer can. "I was just visiting a friend." She shrugs, without name dropping. She reaches down to grab a beer, and smiles when she sees it's her favourite brand. "Sarah Cameron." A voice speaks from above her, startling her and causing her to look up. She squints to make sure it's not John B, but it is. And he's doing something stupid. As per usual.
"Why are you on the roof, might I ask?" She blocks the sun from her eyes with a curved palm against her forehead. He looks down, swinging his dirty white converse back and forth. "Great question." The seabirds call in the distance as he proceeds to not continue his answer. Phi rolls her eyes and walk over to one of the metal railings, leaning against it.
"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I'll give you bout a one-in-three chance of survival." Pope clarifies to the fearless brunette boy who is carelessly swinging her beer can back and forth in unison with his foot. He holds up his licked finger to check the wind. "Should I do it?" He asks.
