I love you, I'm sorry || Outer Banks

001-Pogue summer

"We are the Pogues and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time"

Okay, I'm back! Hi, I'm Melanie Jane Routledge. Mel, Janie, MJ—Call me whatever you like!

So, when some think of summer, they think of nice beaches, trips to Italy, ice cream, and sunburns. But lying down on the roof of house that's under construction, my feet dangling over the edge, surrounded by my friends, and the cops seconds away from noticing that we're not supposed to be here? Oh yeah, that's a Pogue summer.

My brother comes up next to me and dangles one foot over the edge, taunting the wind to push him over.

Fucking idiot, I think. John B just gave a whole other meaning to living on the edge.

"That's what, a three story fall to the deck?" Calls a voice from below. I lift my head up and Pope comes into view. "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

My brother cocks his head then licks his finger, holding it out to see the direction of the wind. "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump," Pope encourages. "I'll shoot you on the way down." He holds up the drill he had been holding for quite some time.

"You're gonna shoot me?" John B challenges, firing a finger gun at Pope.

I roll my eyes as that turns into a finger gun war. Then, I turn my attention to a girl walking out of the house. "They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," she says, disgusted.

"Of course they are, Kie. Why wouldn't they?" Asks JJ, who's leaning on a railing, a beer in hand. Sort of his signature look, if you as me.

"Yeah," I agree, "They're fucking Kooks. Why wouldn't they have Kook toilets as well?" JJ and I exchange a humorous glance as Kiara storms forward to join the rest of the group.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles?" She murmurs.

There's a little glint in JJ's eyes as he said, "I can't have cold towels, now, can I? That would be unethical."

Kiara ignores him, turning her attention to John B and I. "Can you two please not kill yourselves."

I hop up and slightly wobble before hopping down. "See, Kie? No one's dying today."

"Don't spill that beer," JJ warns my brother. "I'm not giving you another."

I look at JJ. With his backwards hat, messy hair, and worn out clothes, he really does look like a hooligan. My hooligan.

Don't get possessive, I remind myself, jokily. Not that it was a joke—sometimes I think my love for JJ is some kind of sick obsession, but then, I have to remind myself that I am not insane, I'm just in love with my best friend.

On second thought, that is pretty insane.

The sound of John B's beer can hitting the ground below him snaps me back to reality. I give a small huff of laughter before darting my eyes toward the car pulling into the lot.

"Shit," I groan, "Security's here. Just when I thought I'd have time for another jump off of the roof."

"You can kill yourself another time, Mel," Pope says. "Can we wrap it up here?"

John B and JJ hop off from their ledges and I call to the officer, "Gary? Gary is that you? I though it was your off day, Buddy!"

"Janie, let's go!" John B orders, grabbing my arm. He runs into the house after the others, me in tow.