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It’s midsummer and they’re sitting on a fallen tree-trunk in the Boneyard, legs swinging in the warm evening air. Kiara has a bottle of half-drunk Budweiser wedged between her bare thighs, a faint salty breeze ruffling her curls. Beside her, JJ is rolling a joint with quick, easy expertise, the silver of his rings glinting in the setting sunlight. The distant noise of music and laughter floats through the golden air around them, and Kiara closes her eyes for a moment, soaking it all up. John B’s name has been cleared and JJ is humming along absent-mindedly to the Alt-J song that’s playing and the sand is soft between her toes. She feels more at one with the world than she has in weeks.
“Woah, check it out,” JJ nudges Kiara out of her contented trance, his eyes wide and gleeful as he stares down towards the shoreline. “Pope’s totally scoring with that hippy chick. Oh, shit – wait – is that weird for you?” he glances uncertainly at Kiara, blue gaze uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Why would it be weird?” Kiara wrinkles her face, taking a sip of beer.
“Uh – because you know, you guys had that whole thing where you made me third wheel you for a couple weeks? I don’t know the details, but there was a definitely kiss and definitely a lot of awkward silences, and also that night you guys snuck off together from John B’s –”
“Okay, okay,” Kiara holds her hands up. “I was there, I don’t need the spark notes.”
“You sure? Because there was also the bit where we had to wait actual hours in the morning for you guys to remember about us and come back with the boat because you were so busy off –” JJ breaks off, grinning widely as Kiara shoves him playfully, telling him to shut up. He loses his balance for a moment and grabs onto her to steady himself, callused hand warm and familiar on her bare shoulder for a split second before it’s replaced with the cool caress of the evening air again.
“It’s not weird,” Kiara tells him honestly, glancing back to where Pope and the girl are walking together. “Seriously. We’re both better as friends.”
“Okay,” JJ says, slowly, without any particular tone. He flicks his zippo, lighting the joint, and smoke unfurls into pastel the air around them. He doesn’t say anything else, so they sit in silence for several moments, staring out at the slow roll of the waves. The bare skin of his shoulder brushes against Kiara’s each time he lifts the joint to his lips, a flash of soft, supple warmth that Kiara finds herself subconsciously leaning into, like a flower turning towards the sun.
“So c’mon then,” JJ presses his shoulder into hers for a moment as he hands her the joint, expression light-hearted and unreadable all at once. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?” Kiara asks, eyes narrowed.
“Kissing Pope. I feel like he’d be a very serious kisser, y’know? Does he go all sombre and intense about it the way he gets about math tests?”
“Why don’t you kiss him and find out for yourself?” Kiara takes a drag of the joint and passes it back to JJ. His fingertips are rough from a summer of waxing surfboards and working too hard at shitty jobs to pay for all the stuff Kiara never has to think about.
“Well, I would,” JJ says, mock contemplatively, “He is irresistible, after all.” He’s grinning, all sun-kissed golden skin and blonde hair messy from the salt of the sea, and Kiara can’t stop the warm amusement in her own expression even as she rolls her eyes at him. “But there’s this whole no pogue on pogue macking rule we’ve got going on and I’d hate to break it, y’know?”
“Oh sure, because rules usually stop you from doing things.”
JJ shrugs, staring out at the fading colours on the horizon. “They have their place. Some of them.”
“Oh, and where’s that? Far away from you?”
“Hey,” JJ protests, flicking ash onto the sand below them. Kiara watches the ragged woven bracelets he always wears slide down his wrist, faint golden hairs illuminated in the sunset, and recognises a red and coral colour one she remembers making for him the summer before they started high school. “Before you go shitting on my complicated relationship with rules, I’d like to have it noted for the record that actually, I am literally the only one in this group who hasn’t broken the no pogue on pogue macking rule. The rest of y’all have absolutely thrown it out of the window,” JJ points out, raising the joint to his lips and blowing smoke carelessly out into the golden air, head thrown back.
“Okay, maybe. But in my defence,” Kiara argues, tearing her gaze away from the angle of his jaw and looking back out at the waves. “John B was the one who kissed me.”
“Hmmmm,” JJ draws the sound out, “Pretty sure I remember you kissing him too,” he says lightly, raising the joint to his lips again.
“You mean on the cheek?” Kiara demands, “Because I’ve kissed literally all of you on the cheek over the years, that doesn’t count for shit.”
“Wow, don’t cushion the blow or anything,” JJ clutches dramatically at his chest, miming heartbreak.
Kiara rolls her eyes and kicks him gently with her bare foot. “Idiot.”
JJ grins widely at her, pushing a hand through his messy blonde hair. Kiara can’t help but smile back even though she’s shaking her head; there’s always been something about inherently infectious about JJ’s good-humoured exuberance. It’s moments like this where it hits her how stupidly attractive he is, all careless energy and windswept golden hair, cut-off tank top with flexed muscles moving under supple skin. It’s not exactly news to Kiara – she’s not blind, she knows how much girls like JJ. But she grew up with him, the JJ who used to be gangly with too-long platinum blonde hair and grubby clothes and bruises. The JJ who flirts with every girl he meets and used to have someone new back at the chateau most weekends is a whole other entity, and it’s moments like this where Kiara is very much aware of the difference and also the fact those two JJs are very much the same person. It tugs at something in her chest she hasn’t quite got the words for yet.
“And Pope?” JJ asks, after several moments of silence, the music behind them drifting lazily through the warm evening air. He’s not looking at her; he’s staring out at the waves. Kiara realises that Pope and the girl have disappeared from view without her noticing.
“Yeah, okay,” she stares down at her hands, swallowing. “I kissed him. Can’t shirk the blame for that one.” She still feels a pang of guilt whenever she thinks about it, even though she and Pope are all good now. “It was a weird moment. I still feel like I hurt him more than he lets on.” She picks at her chipped nail polish, trying not to remember Pope’s expression when she tried to let him down easy.
“Hey,” JJ presses his shoulder against hers, teasing banter shifting into something softer, “Kie. No one can help how they feel.” He exhales a lungful of smoke into the sunset. “Trust me.”
Kiara frowns and glances up to meet his gaze, finding something complicated in the familiar blue that’s fixed on the horizon rather than meeting her own. She smiles wanly, nudges him back. “That almost sounded wise.”
“Hey, I can be wise,” JJ protests, all mock indignation. His gaze flickers to her for a moment before returning to the midsummer colours smudged across the sky, golden cerulean reflected in his uncharacteristically pensive blue gaze. He takes another drag of the joint, and Kiara can’t shake the sense that there’s something simmering just below the surface he’s carefully avoiding.
“Oh, sure,” Kiara says sarcastically, because it’s JJ and she doesn’t want to push him without even knowing what she’s pushing. “This coming from the guy who stole an honest to god ambulance just to break the wrong guy out of jail.”
“Jesus, will you ever not bring that up?”
“Hm, I don’t think so. You pretended to be an actual paramedic.”
“Hey, I’d make a great paramedic.”
“Despite not having literally any paramedic training, oh sure,” Kiara deadpans. “Obviously.”
“Anyway,” JJ waves a hand dismissively, “We’re getting off track. The point isn’t just how awesome a paramedic I’d make. The point is, deliberate or not, you are undeniably, one hundred percent the worst breaker of the no pogue on pogue macking rule. I mean. You’ve literally broken it with everyone except me, which hey, I’m trying not to be offended about. But it’s kind of ironic,” he adds, just a little too casually, “Given that I’m definitely a way better kisser than either of them.”
“Oh, is this what this is about? You’re jealous, is that it?” Kiara teases.
“Very jealous,” JJ grins at her, in that very characteristic JJ way which leaves her with absolutely no clues about how serious he’s being. “Obviously.”
“What makes you so sure you’re a better kisser than them?” Kiara asks, taking a sip of her beer.
“More practice,” JJ shrugs, flicking the end of the joint to the sand, “It’s the logical conclusion.”
Kiara shakes her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Hey, any time you want to put it to the test you know where I am,” JJ grins widely, all ridiculous blonde hair and milky sun-kissed skin. He’s close enough that Kiara can feel the heat of his body and smell the woodsmoke and coconut board wax on his tank top, and she suddenly feels very aware of his proximity, the way their shoulders are pressed together. When she glances up, his eyes are already on her, disarmingly intent for a moment in a way that makes her heart fumble a beat. Then he’s grinning his stupid JJ grin again and she can’t help laughing, even as she feels the heat creeping up her cheeks. She ducks her head to hide it, annoyed that he’s somehow managed to fluster her.
“Alright then,” she blurts impulsively, just tipsy enough to decide that playing him at his own game is the best way to pay him back for making her blush. She looks up again, straight at him, hoping the gentle salty breeze will cool her cheeks. “Go on.”
“Wait, you mean – really?” JJ falters, the cocksure grin slipping off his face as his expression shifts into something softer and more vulnerable. He’s uncharacteristically still, staring at her in disbelief.
“Prove it,” Kiara challenges, not breaking eye contact. She ignores the way her heart is pounding.
“You want me to –” JJ starts hesitantly, then stops again, gaze flickering over her as though he’s not quite sure how he’s allowed to look at her. There’s something in his tone under the disbelief and uncertainty that Kiara suddenly realises sounds a lot like hope. The thought tugs at something deep in her chest, and she feels a sense of protectiveness overwhelm her. JJ doesn’t trust a lot of people with hope. Kiara has no idea how they’ve got here, but it suddenly all feels much more serious than just a conversation between two friends messing about on the beach.
“Hey, we don’t need to –”
“Yes, we do,” JJ blurts clumsily. “I mean. Yeah. I’ll prove it.” He sounds a little more like himself, although with a distinct overtone of nervousness. He rubs his hands on his shorts and pushes a hand through his windswept blonde hair, looking at her hesitantly. “If you want?” he curves it into a slightly disbelieving question, as though the idea of her wanting to kiss him is an impossibility. Which, Kiara guesses, is fair enough. She’s spent literal years shutting down attempts to flirt with her and kissed everyone in their group but him.
“Yeah,” she finds herself saying, without really knowing how or why they’ve got here – only that the increasing pull towards JJ that she’s been trying to ignore for months is far stronger right now than the sensible part of her brain that’s telling her this is a really stupid idea.
“Okay then, Carrera,” JJ says, softly. His blue gaze is intent and unreadable, full of something that makes Kiara’s stomach flip in anticipation. Her heart is suddenly pounding.
Slowly, as though he’s half expecting her to move away or maybe punch him in the face, JJ reaches out and touches Kiara’s jaw, callused fingertips grazing the soft skin of her cheek. She watches something that’s a little like a mixture between disbelief and wonder flicker across his expression, and his throat bobs as he swallows. She can feel the slight tremble of his fingers against her skin, like this is a much bigger deal to him than just some stupid conversation between friends. Instinctively, she reaches up to place her hand reassuringly over his. Something in JJ’s gaze shifts, and then he’s leaning in, closer than he’s ever been before, all soft sun-kissed skin and hair that smells of the waves, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Kiara doesn’t get nervous about things, but suddenly her stomach is fluttering with anticipation and her palms are sweating and she doesn’t know what to do – and then JJ is kissing her.
It’s nothing like Kiara expected. She associates JJ with carelessness and restless energy and stupid risk-taking – and she supposes some part of her always assumed JJ would approach kissing with that same recklessness. Instead, JJ kisses her with surprising carefulness, like this is something different altogether. Like maybe here is the one place where his favourite “nothing to lose” rationale doesn’t apply. His mouth is hot and soft against hers, but there’s also an undertone of quiet urgency to it, like he’s holding back how much he wants this. The thought makes Kiara’s stomach flutter again, and she finds herself threading her hands into his hair to deepen the kiss. JJ’s breath hitches in response and she feels his hand tighten on the fabric of her tank top, pulling her closer into him. Heat flares inside Kiara at the neediness of it, the way JJ holds her like he never thought he’d get to and might never get to again.
Kiara’s kissed people before, of course. A touron the summer she finished middle school, a couple drunken make out sessions with guys at parties that meant nothing. John B, fleetingly. Pope. But all those times before that Kiara has kissed people, she’s always been very aware that’s what she’s doing: kissing. Right now with JJ, she forgets they’re kissing at all and just loses herself in the heat of his mouth and the closeness, the way he’s holding onto her like she’s something precious he doesn’t quite dare touch. Her heart aches with how sweet it is, even as the intensity of it, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, makes heat throb between her legs.
When they eventually break apart for air, Kiara’s heart is beating so fast she feels dizzy. They stare at each other a little wide-eyed in the cool evening breeze, and Kiara feels as though her whole world has tilted on its axis. JJ’s cheeks are flushed pink and his hair is even messier than usual from where Kiara had been clutching at it. She suddenly feels all too aware of the way they’re both breathing hard, and maybe JJ is feeling similarly self-conscious because he clears his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in a display of shyness that’s so out of character Kiara has no idea how to respond.
All she can think about is the feel of JJ’s mouth against hers and how right it felt, how completely different it felt to the kisses she shared with John B and Pope. How much she wants to close the gap between them and do it all over again, wrap her arms around him and kiss the apprehension on his face away. How she already feels addicted to something she didn’t even know she wanted. But her thoughts are spinning too fast, trying to reconcile how they somehow went from a stupid conversation to something that feels like it’s existed for far longer than she knew. It’s too much all at once, so Kiara says nothing, just stares out at the waves and tucks her curls behind her ears, trying to remember how to breathe normally.
“So, uh,” JJ’s voice is a little lower than usual. “What’s the verdict?” he asks, blue gaze flickering up to meet Kiara’s, coloured with apprehension. Kiara feels a tug in her chest. There are a hundred questions she knows need to be asked, but she doesn’t have the courage or the words right now, so instead she plays along, the way she suspects now that JJ has been doing all evening. Maybe even longer.
“Not bad,” she admits, hoping she looks calmer than she feels. She runs a hand through her hair self-consciously, cheeks burning. “Really. Uh. Yeah. Really not bad.”
The hint of a smile pulls at the corners of JJ’s mouth, and he looks up at her, almost hopeful. “Yeah?”
She rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Yeah. Shut up.”
The answering grin on JJ’s face is stupidly wide. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck self-consciously and shakes his head a little, like he’s been underwater and is adjusting to being in the air again. “On a scale, how really not bad? Better than John B?”
Kiara puts her head in her hands. “JJ. I am so not answering that.”
“I thought that was the whole point,” JJ protests.
“Was it?” Kiara asks, quietly, and JJ’s cheeks colour slightly.
“Yeah, ‘course. What else would it be?”
“I don’t know, JJ,” Kiara says, looking at him seriously. “You tell me.”
JJ looks away as though he’s been burned, fiddling with the zippo lighter in his hands. His cheeks are flushed as he stares out at the ocean, jaw set like he’s trying to keep his answer shut away inside himself even now. Kiara wonders how many moments like these she’s never even noticed. The thought tugs at the feeling in her chest again, and she edges infinitesimally closer so that their shoulders are pressed lightly together the way they'd had been earlier, the way they've sat together so many times. She doesn’t push it, just sits there with him in his silence in the fading light and waits him out.
Eventually, JJ looks up and meets her gaze. The salty breeze sweeps a strand of blonde hair over his forehead and his eyes are bluer than the waves, full of fear and resolve.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.