Champagne problems - JJ Maybank

13| 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘠𝘢𝘳𝘥

Just like that, the five of them were crammed back into the van, gearing up to kick off yet another harebrained plan. The air was thick with a heavy, stubborn silence. Most likely because Pope hadn't stopped complaining about the idea since they'd left the hotel, listing every possible disaster waiting for them—and somewhere along the way, JJ had finally snapped, barking at him to just shut up. Now Pope sat by the window in the back, glaring outside, sighing loudly every few seconds as if it were his last form of protest.

"Pope, we're not stealing the drone, we're borrowing it," John B reminded him, repeating Sydney's little white lie from the hotel as he caught yet another sigh from the back seat.

"Humans are the only animals that can't tell fantasy from reality," The Heyward boy muttered, staring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Wait, did you come up with that?" John B turned his eyes away from the road, glancing at Pope, a bit taken aback. He knew his friend was smart, sure, but poetic?

Pope shrugged, eyes still fixed on the view outside. "Albert Bernstein came up with it," he replied matter-of-factly. "But it fits with this whole treasure-hunting thing."

"You mean Albert Einstein?" JJ asked, not bothering to look up. He was sprawled on the van floor in the back with Pope and Sydney, focused on rolling a fresh joint between his fingers.

"No," The Heyward boy replied, rolling his eyes at the question which to him seemed ridiculous.

"Albert Bernstein. He's an author," Sydney sighed, speaking up for the first time since she'd climbed into the van. She sat with her elbows propped on her knees, her face buried in her hands, lost in a mix of regret and frustration. The adrenaline she had felt earlier in the hotel had disappeared during the silent car ride and now she had time to overthink and her mind kept circling back to her conversation with Rafe and everything she had said to him. She'd finally stood up for herself—really stood up, in a way so unlike herself. But she knew Rafe; he wasn't one to let things slide. Today, they'd been in public, so he'd let her go unharmed. But next time? She wasn't so sure he'd hold back especially since he had snapped at her last time they spoke too and actually hit her. Things were starting to get worse than just his hurtful words.

She knew she shouldn't let his words get to her, but she couldn't help it. The thought crept in, nagging at her mind—was she just some charity case to the Pogues? It made sense in her head that maybe there was some truth in the thought, Rafe didn't know why she was hanging around the pogues, sure but realistically she knew if she was in their position and a kook had found out about a secret like the Big John's compass in Scooter Grubbs Grady White, she would definitely try to keep them close just so they wouldn't say anything. Sydney didn't want that. She didn't want them to be obligated to included her out of fear and pity.

Trying to shake off the familiar uneasy feeling in her chest, she leaned forward, focusing on the blonde boy across from her. JJ was hunched over, completely absorbed in rolling the joint, his tongue pressing against his cheek in concentration as he carefully shaped it to perfection. He hadn't seemed to even register her answer about the author.

As if sensing her gaze, JJ finally looked up, his blue eyes locking onto her brown ones. "Nerd," he smirked, then glanced back down at the joint. "You two are so alike; you should get together. Perfect match," he teased, grinning as he twisted the end of the joint

Sydney glanced at him, then over at Pope, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. She shook her head, loose waves of brown hair falling into place and framing her face. "No thanks," she muttered, looking down at the worn floor of the van, feeling slightly embarrassed at being called out so bluntly.

Pope must have been feeling the same way, because he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked around. "So, which is it? Fantasy or reality?"

"Why are you so weird, Pope?" JJ mumbled, glancing down at his perfectly rolled joint with a look of pride on his face.