what now? | outerbanks

• thirty-one •

Cleo

    "Woah, what happened here?" Pope asks, rubbing his eyes sleepily as they meet the white morning light, the skies a bright grey.
    "Thundering hell," I tell him. Last night, when we were all safe in our beds, the skies opened. The mysterious cold brought in thunderstorms, lightning flashing through the skies, all in the safety of the night.
    "If it looks this bad here, we should get to the shop; see how things held up there." I stand there listening to him, my hands on my hips as I look at the fallen branches and debris-strewn ground.
We pick up a little bit around Heyward's and then make it to the shop as quickly as possible, observing the docks and houses on our way to make sure no one is in dire need of help.

"Didn't want to tell us there was a storm, weatherman?" Kie calls out to Pope, helping us tie the boat to the dock.
"I had no idea; didn't see it on the news or anything," he yells back to her.
"Alright, well, we got some serious work to do here." JJ stands at the end of the dock, his blonde hair blowing in the settling winds, watching us walk towards him.
"Don't worry, rude-boy. Brought the big guns today," I say, holding my arm to display my muscles, and he shoots finger guns at me, winking. "You alright, Sarah?" She's sitting back in a hanging chair on the top deck of the shop, the tip of her nose and cheeks a warm pink, and she looks exhausted.
"Definitely better than last night. Just a little tired still," she tells me, her voice faint from afar on the balcony.
"Yeah, must've just been a little bug or something. It didn't seem to last too long." I hear his voice before I see him, but then John B. walks from around a corner, shaking Pope's hand with their not-so-secret handshake. "Just stay away so you don't get sick too." He whispers, but the girl hears him anyway and scoffs from above.
    "I'm not contagious!"
    "Whatever you say!" He teases.
    "Another word from you and you're sleeping alone again," she says with finality, and John B. shuts up immediately, raising his brows and walking away, looking for something else to do.
    "So, damage in the house isn't too bad," JJ starts, "Just a little leak in the hall bath. Boats are alright, just a little muddy and messy- we can set Kie and Sarah up there; get 'em cleaned up. Pope, Cleo, you're on leak duty- patch it up. John B, you're with me. We gotta take a closer look at the shop, make sure everything's alright. Once that's all done, we'll work together on the yard. It looks like a marshland out here." His delegations are clear, and for once, his plan seems ineffable, the six of us getting to work immediately.

Kie

"So," Sarah smirks at me, wiggling her eyebrows as she speaks, "date night last night?" I feel my cheeks heat at her question, and I twist my hair around my fingers to avoid smiling too big.
    I shrug my shoulders, pretending not to care, but I'm not strong enough to hold my smile back, my lips eventually pulling into a full, cheesy grin.
    "Sarah, he took me to a turtle hatch." Her head whips to me in shock, her jaw falling agape at the news.
"What?!" She gasps.
"Yeah. Could not have been better."
"Wow. And I thought John B. was good," she jokes, playfully rolling her eyes.
"Sarah, he planned a whole surprise wedding for you. I think you got pretty lucky."
"Oh, trust me, that honeymoon? I definitely got lucky. But a turtle hatch? Pretty unbeatable." She walks around the boat, picking up leaves with a gloved hand and stuffing them into an oversized black garbage bag. I cringe when I realize what she's implying, my mouth talking on a scowl.
"Gross, Sar!" She laughs like a kid, her head flying back as I shake mine in mock disapproval. "But yeah, JJ did a pretty good job."
The two of us act as JJ requested, picking up debris from the boats and dock and placing it all in bags as we go, but I suddenly stop, remembering something.
"Shit!" I curse under my breath.
"What?" Sarah asks me absentmindedly.
I hesitate before I tell her, but I decide that there's no reason to lie. "I was supposed to call my mom." I tell her, continuing to work, not wanting to stay on the topic for long.
"What for? Just got good measures?" She asks me, combing her tousled morning hair into a just as unruly bun atop her head.
"No, actually, um- you know, with the holidays coming up and everything, it could be nice to have them with me again. Thanksgiving is in a week, and maybe I can spend it with them this year."
"Look, Kie, if this is about Rafe, I can totally uninvite him," she starts, and I automatically regret bringing it up, not wanting the girl to feel at fault.
"No, Sarah, it's not your fault, I promise. You're doing the right thing by inviting him, don't let me stop you. It was time for me to patch things up with my folks anyway, so, really, it's kind of perfect timing."
"But if you're not going to be there, what's the point?" She whines like the teenager she is, and it takes me back to high school, a giggle escaping my lips. "I'm serious, Kie, I don't even want to have Thanksgiving if you're not going to be there." Sarah pouts her lips and stomps around the boat, picking up the last couple of sticks.
"It's going to be fine, Sarah, don't stress," I tell her, but she's obviously unconvinced by my advice, her flip-flopped feet clattering off the boat as she groans.
"I'm calling it off." She demands, and though it takes quite a few tries, I eventually convince her that everything will be okay, and that Thanksgiving is only one day out of the year.
    "All done?" John B. calls out, reaching for Sarah's hand and pulling her into him as I walk a little ways behind.
    "Yup. Shiny like new," I promise, gesturing towards the boats with the sucking of my teeth. He tries to kiss Sarah, but she playfully pushes him off of her, groaning through the act.
    "Ugh! So gross," she jokes, scrunching her nose and walking off, leaving John B. awkward and stranded, and I can't help but laugh at the sight.
    "Did she just turn down a kiss?" His question is strung together with confusion, and his face molds into an inquiring frown.
    "Yeah, that was weird," I admit, knowing that even in her silliness, John B's love is what she cares for most; her love language has always been physical touch.