Calla Finch has never really fit in anywhere; too Pogue for the Kooks and too Kook for the Pogues.
But a storm and the sinking of a boat may finally be enough to push her over. It's just up to her to decide which side of the island she lands.
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T W O
•LIKE, DEAD DEAD•
"You just couldn't stay away, huh, Shortcake?" JJ Maybank teases from the open doorway. His scruffy blond hair is pushed back into a backwards cap and black grease stains from his motorbike are wiped down his button down shirt even with a grey cloth shoved into the chest pocket.
Rugged, scruffy, and stupid. The usual.
I roll my eyes as I step closer, skateboard pressing into my hip but I don't put it down. I'm not going to be staying long enough to get comfortable, anyway. He annoys me too much for that, and vice verca.
"You replied pretty quick," I retort, taking out the sweet from my mouth and holding it between my two fingers, glaring at him from behind my sunglasses. He can't see my expression but I can tell he feels it. He always can.
"Yeah, cause you're my only customer," JJ replies, stepping to the side so I can walk past him and into the porch. "And I know how much you miss seeing this face." He gestures to his features with a careless hand and I make sure to knock him in the stomach with the end of my board as I pass. He scoffs breathlessly, fingers now splayed across where I hit him.
"In your wettest dreams, Maybank."
"Only you would think about being in my wet dreams, Finch," JJ says with a shit-eating grin, as though he thinks he's stumped me when I don't reply, but really I just don't want to hear any more about this boy's sex life - even if it might be even drier than the Sahara desert.
I push my sunglasses further up the bridge of my nose with my middle finger - the only suitable way of communicating my thoughts and feelings right now - and he replies with an even shittier grin.
Okay, before you ask: no, JJ's not a drug dealer (or at least that I know of). I'm not exactly sure when this started happening, just that now about once a week I find myself walking up this path and in this same spot in the porch, facing the one person who could give me a brain aneurysm with just one word. I'm pretty sure I annoy him too, though he's better at hiding it behind the constant teasing. Though, I wouldn't say we hate each other - no, that word's too strong - but instead just deal with this strange situation that we keep finding ourselves back in.
But what happens in this house stays here. When I'm out on the beach or walking to the shops and I see JJ laughing with his friends or surfing, I ignore him. Never seen the boy before. JJ Maybank? Who's that? Sounds like a dickhead.
And he ignores me too. Most of the time. There's been a few occasions where our eyes lock across the road or through a crowd of party-goers and he winks, smirks, a small gesture that makes me immediately check around to make sure no one saw to report back to my dad. He would kill me if he knew I've even spoken a word to JJ, having heard about the boy's cell side quests from people he works with at the lawyer firm, as well as his father's. Even just the mention of Maybank makes his voice spike and triggers a well-rehearsed rant about a 'no-good thieving and criminal family that have no place on this island'. Really, I could quote it from heart, but I really don't want to.
