strawberry scented surf wax | obx

f i v e

* * *

* a year later *

𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

"That's what — a three story fall to the deck?" Pope looks up at John B who currently has a converse-clad foot dangling off of the roof of the house. He scratches his head from the construction platform below him. "I give you about a... one in three chance of survival." he taunts, lifting the drill in his hand that he found in a toolbox, hitting the trigger so it releases a noise.

We've situated ourselves at a construction site on Figure Eight this afternoon, drinking beer while enjoying the evening sun. Us Pogues always found joy in quality time with each other— no matter where it was. These guys were my rock.

I lift my head off of JJ's lap and chuckle at the two boys, their banter always giving me a laugh. He and I are on another construction platform across from Pope, his feet dangling freely off the edge while I comfortably lay next to him.

He glances down at me and rests the hand that his beer is in on my bare upper arm, the cold can making me shudder. "Piss off, asshole!" I hiss, slapping the can with my other hand. Beer splashes and JJ immediately puts his mouth over the opening.

"Not the beer, Lav!" he groans. "God."

"Oh shush, I'll get you another one, Kid." I roll my eyes.

"As you should." He chuckles, looking up to the two boys again.

JJ and I have gotten extremely close in the short year that I've been here. Our friendship is something that I cherish more than anything in the world, we are so comfortable around each other and spend most days in each other's company. To everyone else's eye, it looks as though there's more to it... but he's my bestfriend— and Pogue on Pogue macking is forbidden.

"Hmmm." John B smirks behind the beer can in his hand, taking his finger and putting it in his mouth and raising it in the air, testing the wind. "Should I do it?" he jokes.

"Yeah, you should jump," Pope grins, lifting the drill in his direction. "I'll shoot you on the way down!"

"Oh," John B dramatically raises his hands in the air. "You'll shoot me?"

"Yep!" Pope taunts, blasting the drill in his direction once again.

Kie makes her way out from the opening below JJ and I, a disgruntled look etched into her tan features. "They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers!" she groans — obviously just coming back from having a look around the half built house.

"Of course they are." JJ shrugs. "Why wouldn't they? It's Figure Eight."

She looks up to him and places her hands on her hips. "This used to be a turtle habitat, but... who cares about the turtles, I guess?"

"Can't have cold towels." JJ teases the girl, making her flip him off and turn to JB, who is still hanging dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

"Could you please not kill yourself?" she tells him, making the boy grin.

"And don't spill that beer," JJ adds. "M'not getting you another one."

"Oh, shit!" John B curses at the same time JJ finishes his sentence, his half full can of beer falling from his hands and splattering onto the wooden platform below him.