𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘑𝘑 (𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴) 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬, 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘖𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘶. A touron that had more blunts than she cares to admit, not to mention a handful of xannys, ends up sleeping with the one and only JJ Maybank who was drowning his own sorrows in a bottle of painfully cheap tequila. After ignoring the glaring issue, which included the symptoms like a lack of period, sore tits and throwing up any food within a mile radius of her, for a few weeks Ottilie Moreau takes a test -- the test -- and it may be the only test she's ever taken were a positive is a negative. Ps. I also (obviously) don't own OBX, so creds go to the guy who did, you did good.

No feelings, no strings, no friendship, or God-forbid anything beyond that. Those are the rules of JJ Maybank and Frankie Marcus' relationship. If you can even call late-night hookups a relationship. But rules are meant to be broken, aren't they?