what now? | outerbanks

• fifty-six •

JJ

It's been about a week since we made it back from Jamaica and a few days since the money from the chest was transferred to our accounts—which we've all gotten after the fortune we received from El Dorado. All sixty-five million dollars from the gold was split between Sarah's and Kiara's accounts at first, but then we decided to all get accounts to split it more evenly. Now, we're all millionaires.
We're all getting back into the swing of things, and life is finally starting to mellow down. Well, for most of us. It's late now—so late that the rest of the island feels asleep—but Kiara and I are not asleep. Not even close.
We're standing on the back deck of Poguelandia 2.0, locked in the kind of argument that's been brewing for days. Looking at Kiara's face, though, I think she might have been sitting on this thought for weeks.
"I don't get why this is such a big deal to you," I say, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. I hate fighting with her. "It's my money, Kie."
Kiara crosses her arms, eyes flashing with anger. "That's not the point."
"Then what is the point? Huh?" I look through the dim house, making sure the lights in Cleo and Pope's bedroom are still off. I'd hate to wake them up this late.
Kie exhales sharply, pacing a few steps away from me before turning back. "You refuse to think about the future, JJ. Since El Dorado, you have completely ignored the fact that we have the money to do anything. You're acting like nothing's changed." I don't know what she means, which is weird, because I always know what she means.
"I'm sorry, do you want me to start wearing a suit and tie? Maybe go find a financial advisor?" I scoff, shaking my head. "That's not me, Kie."
Her jaw clenches. "You don't have to become someone else. I just—God, JJ, you make it so hard to talk about this."
"Because it doesn't need to be talked about!" I exclaim, throwing out my arms. "We're fine. I'm fine."
"No, you're not." The words are quiet, but they cut through the night like a blade. "You're scared." I freeze.
Kiara stares at me, chest rising and falling like she just ran a marathon. She squints, cocking her head to the side like she's trying to figure me out, but something in her expression tells me she already has. "You're scared of what comes next, aren't you?"
I internally curse, almost embarrassed by how easily she can see through me. She knows every part of me, even the parts I'd never dare to admit.
"I'm not scared," I say, but my voice is hollow.
Kiara takes a step closer, and her voice deepens with compassion. "JJ."
I shake my head. "I just—I don't know how to do this, alright? I don't know how to—" I gesture vaguely around us, "—have something real. Something stable."
"You think you don't deserve it," she observes, the fiery fight in her eyes fading away with every word.
I let out a breath, heavy and sharp. "Maybe I don't."
Kiara doesn't hesitate. She steps into my space, grabs my face between her hands, and forces me to look at her. "You do." I try to look away, to avoid contact and deflect affection, but she holds me steady. "JJ, you do."
For a second, we just stand there, the weight of everything hanging between us. The past, the future, the million different versions of myself that never thought I'd make it here—with her, with money in my pocket, with a life I never thought I'd get to have. And then Kiara sighs, her hands slipping from my face.
"I just want you to try, JJ."
"Try what?"
"To think about the future. To actually let yourself believe that you have one."
I stare at her, and for the first time all night, I don't have a smart-ass comment to throw back. Deep down, I know she's right. My whole life, I've been told that I'm nothing, and that before I know it, I'll be locked up just like my dad. But now, after having something to live for, I do have a future. I'm just too scared to say it out loud.
She must take my silence as resistance because she scoffs and steps back, running a hand through her hair. "You want an example? Fine. How about the fact that you blew through nearly three grand on a jet ski the second we got the money from the chest? Like, we didn't even make it twenty-four hours before you acted like this was just extra party money."
I blink. "That was a... necessary purchase."
Kiara gives me a look so flat it could level me. "JJ, we live on an island. You could've borrowed one. Or, I don't know, waited longer than a few hours before making a completely reckless, impulsive decision?"
I open my mouth, then shut it. Then open it again. "Okay, fair."
She throws up her hands, finally being recognized. "Thank you!"
I sigh, rubbing my hands over my tired face. It's moments like these where I wish I was better at communicating. "Look, I'm not saying you're wrong. I just—I don't know how to be the guy who makes plans, Kie."
She watches me carefully. "I'm not asking you to change overnight. I just want to know that we're on the same page."
"Same page about what?" I hesitate.
Kiara exhales and steps in close again. "Where this is going." She gestures between us. "Me and you."
The words hit something deep in my chest. For a while, we were just JJ and Kie, no expectations or labels. Then, we finally gave it a title—boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't know what comes after that. I don't know what she's expecting. The truth is, I don't know what I'm ready for.
Looking at her, though—at her fierce beauty and the way she looks back at me like I'm something worth fighting for—I know one thing for sure: I don't want to lose her. That's something I realized even more when she got shot. I replay the events in my head, the way she went limp in my arms and on that table, blood coating every inch of us like a sick, slick paint. I couldn't let her go.
Remembering, my eyes snap down to her leg. She's leaning most of her weight on the other foot, but it's still concerning. I rush to her, linking my arms under hers and moving her toward the patio furniture. I forget about the argument, my focus moving to her well-being.
"Shit, baby," I curse. "You shouldn't be standing."
"Please, I'm fine," she says, protesting and trying to stand back up from the hammock.
"No, Kie, the doctor said you shouldn't be walking. Don't fight me on this one." She rolls her eyes but stops fighting. I try to remember where we were in conversation, but I can't quite place it, so, in true JJ fashion, I pull a blunt from my shirt pocket. Reaching for my lighter with the other hand, I hold the blunt up between us like it's a peace offering.
Kiara's eyes narrow in exasperation. It's clear I exhaust her. "We just got back home, Jayj. How do you already have a blunt?"
"Special stash," I say with a smirk, winking at her.
"Special stash?"
I wiggle my eyebrows. "Hidden for emergencies."
Kiara sighs, but there's the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips. "Of course," she says, like she wouldn't expect anything more from me.
Plopping down into the hammock next to her, I light the blunt and take a slow drag, exhaling into the night air.
"Alright," I say, passing it to her. "Really wanna talk about the future?"
"Yes." She raises a brow. "Do you?"
"Nope," I admit, grinning. "But I'm willing to try."
Kiara shakes her head, amused, and takes a slow hit. The tension between us melts away, leaving just the two of us, like old times.
Kiara leans into my side, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes another slow hit from the blunt. The tension from our fight has faded, leaving something softer in its place. I glance down at her, watching as she exhales a lazy stream of smoke into the air.
"Alright," I say, nudging her with my knee. "Future talk. Let's hear it."
    She smirks, shaking her head as she hands the blunt back to me. "Okay, let's start simple." She shifts so she's facing me, legs crossed. "Where do you see yourself in five years?"
    I let out a low laugh. "Jesus, are we in a job interview?"
    "JJ."
    "Alright, alright." I lean back, exhaling a slow breath. "Five years?" I shrug. "I don't know. Hopefully still alive."
    Kiara groans, shoving my shoulder. "Come on."
    I grin at her, but the question settles in my chest, heavy in a way I wasn't expecting. I've never planned for the future. I was only ever taught to survive. I flick the ash off the blunt, staring out at the dark horizon.
    "I guess... I'd want to still be here," I say slowly. "In the Outer Banks." Kiara watches me, her expression unreadable. "I mean, this is home, right?" I continue. "I don't think I'd wanna leave it completely. Maybe I'd get my own place. Fix up a boat, do some fishing. Maybe even—" I pause, making a nauseous face. "—God forbid—get a real job."
    Kiara raises an eyebrow. "A real job?"
    I scoff. "Shocking, I know."
    She leans her chin on her hand, considering me. "So you do think about the future."
    "Maybe. Sometimes," I say, shrugging.
    She nudges me with the heel of her foot. "And what about us? Do you think about us?"
    "Us?" I blink rapidly.
    Kiara rolls her perfectly brown eyes. Her eyelashes flutter, captivating me. "Yes, us, JJ. Where do you see us in five years?"
    The question catches me off guard. Not because I haven't thought about it. I absolutely have. But, as much as I pretend I don't think ahead and as much as I act like I'm just living in the moment... Kiara's the one thing I do think about.
    I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I mean, I definitely don't see us not being together."
    "Yeah?" She asks, nibbling on the inside of her lip while her fingers play with the strings from her hoodie. The smell of smoke and weed fills my nostrils.
    "Yeah." I glance at her, increasingly nervous all of a sudden. "Do you?"
    She shakes her head, smiling slightly. "No. I don't." Something in my chest loosens.
    She tilts her head, studying me. "But what does that look like to you? Us, in five years?"
    I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don't know, Kie. I don't have some perfect, planned-out picture in my head, but I know I want you there. I know for sure I don't wanna fuck this up."
   "You won't," she tells me confidently. Her steady voice is a reassurance.
    I swallow. "You really think so?"
    "Yeah." She reaches for my hand, lacing her fingers with mine. Her skin is cold and fresh against mine, and I shudder at her touch. "We don't have to have it all figured out right now. I just want to know that we're moving toward something. That we're not just floating through this, waiting for the next disaster to hit."
    "Yeah, I get that." I do for the most part. Some of it still contorts in my head as I try to sort it all through, but as for most of it, I understand.
    She hesitates. "Do you think you'll ever want marriage? Kids?"
"Woah, are we seriously talking about me being a dad right now?"
Kiara laughs, but there's something uncertain in her eyes. "Okay, fine. Scratch the kids idea. What about marriage?"
"I mean, yeah. I never thought about it before recently, but it's definitely something I want," I explain, running a hand through my hair. "Is it something you want?"
"More than anything," she says quietly. It does something to my heart, but I can't tell if it's her or the effects of the weed. Finally, she smiles, nudging me with her knee. "I think we'll figure it out."
I find her eyes, staring directly into them, and smirk. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I pull her toward me, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The smell of smoke lingers in her hair, and it brings me back to when we started being friends. We really have been through so much together.
"Guess that means you're stuck with me."
She exhales a laugh. "Guess so."
We fall into a comfortable silence, just the two of us and the sound of the waves. The blunt burns low, the night stretches on, and for once, I let myself believe that the future might not be something to fear. Not if Kiara's in it.