Old Money ꔫ JJ Maybank

three

JUNE 8
morning

Harlow had gotten into something adjacent to a routine at her home for the summer. Wake up, tan by the infinity pool, go for a run on the beach, come home and eat breakfast, doom scroll, head down to the country club with her parents, take photos for instagram, have dinner at the most pristine restaurant in town, try and find a party.

Today she was out for a run when something peculiar happened. Lo and behold a group of teenagers on a little speedboat, one of them being Sarah Cameron, another being JJ Maybank. She stopped running and looked out at them. They were so... carefree. Drinking beer at twelve in the afternoon, listening to loud music, wearing string bikinis and swim trunks.

She tried to pretend she didn't care, that she was just taking a break to catch her breath, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the scene in the distance.

Sarah was laughing, her head thrown back as she leaned over the side of the boat. The others were just as effortlessly carefree, sprawled out on towels, skin glistening with sunscreen, as if they had no worries in the world.

And then there was JJ standing on the bow of the boat, shirtless, with that smug little grin on his face as he tossed back a beer. The sun caught the highlights in his shaggy blond hair, making him look like something out of a magazine spread, which Harlow hated to admit. He seemed so... alive. Like he was soaking up every ounce of freedom and sunshine summer had to offer.

Harlow's lips pressed into a thin line. She had everything money could buy, yet somehow, watching them, she felt a strange pang of... jealousy? No, that wasn't it. But there was something about their recklessness, their complete disregard for the responsibilities that came with being watched, that stung. It was a freedom she would never have, not with the eyes of her parents, their business partners, and her thousands of Instagram followers always on her.

But it wasn't just that. It was JJ, the way he seemed so stupidly unbothered. As if her presence that night at the party hadn't affected him in the slightest. As if she was nothing more than another spoiled rich girl, another face in the crowd. She had considered him the nobody, but what if to him it was the other way around? What if she was just a nobody to him? That idea made her mad.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her heart beating faster than it had during her run. What do they have that I don't? she wondered, even though she already knew the answer.

JJ, as if sensing her gaze, turned in her direction. Their eyes met, even from a distance, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The laughter, the music, the waves — it all faded into a blur. He raised his beer to her in a mocking salute, his smirk widening as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Harlow's jaw clenched. Without breaking eye contact, she turned on her heel and started running again, faster this time, as if she could somehow outrun the twisted, uncomfortable feeling clawing its way up her throat.

The sound of her feet against the sand was the only sound in Harlow's ears now other than the music blasting through her headphones. She pushed herself harder, the salty breeze whipping through her hair, but it did nothing to clear her mind. All she could think of was that stupid, infuriating grin on JJ's face.

She was exhausted, the run taking a toll on her body. But she ran faster. She could control this. She might not have the freedom of those Pogues, but she could look better than them. She could be thinner, prettier, more put-together. She could control her body, shape it into something even more enviable, even more unattainable.

Because that's what she did, right? She turned herself into the version of Harlow Hadid everyone expected to see. The perfect, untouchable, Instagram-ready girl. The one who always had it together. She couldn't afford to be messy, couldn't afford to let anyone see that maybe, just maybe, she was falling apart on the inside. But no, she was fine, right? Her life was perfect. Don't complain, Harlow— her mother's words only days ago, ran through her head.

But then there was JJ, standing there on that boat with his stupid, carefree grin, as if he could see right through her. She'd always hated people like him, people beneath her in the food chain, but never once had she envied one.

The memory of his mocking salute burned in her mind, a reminder that no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, he'd gotten under her skin. And she hated him for it. Hated that, in that one brief moment, she had felt exposed. Seen.

Her legs were screaming now, muscles straining with every step. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. If she could just run faster, maybe she could outrun that uncomfortable feeling.

But the human body has its limits, sadly. She slowed to a walk as she reached the shade of the palm trees lining the beach, her breaths coming out in harsh gasps. Her legs ached, but she welcomed the feeling. Physical pain was a walk in the park compared to her mental anguish.

She glanced down at her phone, almost instinctively opening Instagram. The familiar flood of likes and comments popped up on her latest post: a flawless shot of her on the beach at sunset. Compliments and heart emojis filled the screen, but for once, it didn't bring her the rush it usually did. It felt... hollow.

With an irritated huff, she shoved her phone back into the pocket of her Lululemon hotty-hot shorts, color lip gloss.

Maybe a party tonight would fix this. Something loud, crowded, and filled with people who didn't ask her hard questions or make her feel things she didn't want to feel. People who reminded her who she was: Harlow Hadid, the girl everyone envied. Not Sarah's crowd. She was hoping maybe there was a fraternity here or something. Frat parties were an instant confident boost.

And if she didn't eat until tonight, the alcohol would hit quicker and harder. That's what she needed. Plus, that had the added bonus of less calories in her daily intake, which meant maybe tomorrow she'd go down half a pound.

She turned and started walking back toward her house, her steps slower, more measured. She knew exactly what she needed — a distraction. A way to remind herself that she was in control, that she was the one who decided who got to matter.

Tonight, she'd drown out that nagging voice in her head with shots and strobe lights, and she'd make sure everyone knew that Harlow Hadid was still untouchable.

As she reached the private boardwalk leading up to her family's sprawling beachfront property, she mentally started curating the perfect party outfit — something tight, revealing, and guaranteed to turn heads. She needed the validation tonight, needed to feel wanted, needed to forget the way JJ's words had scraped against the walls she kept so carefully constructed the other night.

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the rush of satisfaction she'd feel once she slipped into the SS23 Versace sweetheart-neck sleeveless latex dress hanging in her closet. She'd suck down a diet soda to keep the hunger pangs at bay until the party. The alcohol would go straight to her head, and then she'd be free — carefree, uninhibited, just like the rest of them. Mindless zombie.

As Harlow reached the house, the roar of the ocean behind her, she couldn't help but glance back toward where she'd seen the Pogues' boat, now just a speck in the distance. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to live like that, without the weight of expectations bearing down on her shoulders, without the need to prove herself every second of every day.

But that wasn't her reality. Her reality was power, control, and the ability to make people envy her. She stepped into the air-conditioned coolness of the house, the smell of jasmine and money surrounding her like a shield.

Tonight, she'd be in control again. Tonight, she'd be untouchable.