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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ REMEMBER ME LIKE THIS — FREEZE FRAME ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ONE WEEK AFTER JOHN B'S DAD DISAPPEARED...
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In another life, Esmeralda Mendoza must have been a goddess. She wasn't tall, but she walked with pride wherever she went and she did everything with confidence. Most people were uncomfortable with the way she was unapologetically herself and lived her life to the fullest that she could. Maybe in another life, she was a queen, a ruler whose subjects proudly bowed to her as they were excited about her leadership skills. She probably wore the richest coloured lipsticks and decorated her body with various silvers and golds. Soldiers would fall at her feet as she'd be dressed in the finest silks. But this wasn't another life — this was Esmeralda Mendoza in the Outer Banks.
Esme didn't want Kook things like boats and wines — she wanted a house that didn't have holes in the roof, to work a regular job, and to buy her abuelita a goddamn King sized mattress. There's a difference, you know.
A big dreamer, Claire would say with her endearing laugh. But Esme wasn't joking. She vowed that she'd do whatever it took to work her way out of the Cut just like her cousin Adonis. A silent promise, between the two, was that they'd always turn the other cheek for the other, and never ever unless necessary ask the other what they were up to.
However, at this moment, Esme wanted nothing more than for John B to stop calling her for his little date emergencies.
Allowing her skateboard to navigate her downhill towards John B's little shack, the harsh wind practically pushing her in his direction, Esme blew a bubble with the spearmint flavoured gum in her mouth.
Esme pushed open the practically always unlocked door, brown eyes scanning the place for any sign of life. Pizza boxes, beers, and clothes laying everywhere were all to be expected. This was, after all, John B's house, but in the one week his dad had left him alone, the John B messiness had magnified times ten. She softly chewed on her gum as she stepped inside, anticipating at any moment for her brunette friend to jump out from behind a corner or couch and scream, "gotcha!" just like he had many times before.
Instead, she heard him pacing around in the next room, muttering to himself about matching socks. Esme bent over, leaving her board by the couch as she heard the leaves rustling outside. Smelling a faint scent of rain in the air, she figured she should just help John B with his date prep as fast as she could before a storm came, or worse... his little blonde surfer buddy.
"John?" Esme's strong voice filled the room as she called out for her friend. She shrugged her mini backpack off her shoulders and let it fall onto the couch.
"Esme?" he answered, running his hands through a drawer in his room as he did.
Realizing he was in his room, Esme pranced over, rolling her exposed shoulders (tube tops being her go-to for the summer heat) as she smirked in his doorway. "The one and only, baby."
