𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 / 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 | 𝟎𝟐

"𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 right outside like this," JJ says to Pope and Kiara as he leans against the wall, his hands moving all around as he recalls what happened earlier that day.

After we got back from Ms. Lana's house, we found Kiara and Pope sitting on the front porch together. So, obviously, JJ decided to tell them everything that happened while we were at Ms. Lana's. Sparing no detail, I might add.

"And all we hear is just, 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' Knocking paint off the wall, G! From the inside. All right? And I'm just looking at Y/n and John B, like—" JJ pauses, his attention quickly focusing on a new thought. "Wait, first off, look at this shit." JJ comes over to where Kie and Pope are sitting and shakes his head, letting pieces of white paint fall from his hair. "Look at it."

"That's dandruff, disgusting," Kie mutters as she turns her head and leans away from JJ.

"Okay, thank you," Pope says quickly as he shoves JJ away from them, also not wanting to get whatever was in JJ's hair on himself. JJ walks back over to where he was standing before—right next to me.

"Look at all that. All right? That's paint. At that point, I was just, like..." he looks up at me first and then over at John B, who's leaning against the wall behind JJ and I. "I'm waiting for death." I roll my eyes and hug my arms around myself. While I know it was a really scarring and traumatic event for all of us—especially JJ—he still somehow manages to make it even more dramatic than it already was.

"We were not gonna die, "John B says, smacking JJ on the back of his head as he walks past him and sits on the couch at the other end of the porch. JJ lifts his hand to the back of his head, where John B smacked him, and rubs it.

"Yeah, but we weren't exactly in the safest of situations either, were we?" I say, tilting my head slightly at my brother. He only rolls his eyes, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back on the couch.

"Oh, okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right? Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like?" Pope asks hopefully, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah. Anything. Anything that's helpful," Kiara says, agreeing with Pope and glancing at him before looking back at JJ.

"Anything we can bring to a police report?" Pope continues, giving Kie the same glance she gave him.

JJ stands still for a second—trying to recall what they looked liked—and glances at John B and then me, his eyes lingering on mine. "Burly," he says after a moment. While his answer is actually quite accurate, it definitely leaves more to be desired.

"Burly?" Pope asks in disbelief, waiting for more than just a simple word. I would be saying the same thing if I were in Pope and Kiara's shoes. I mean, how descriptive can the word 'burly' really be?

"Yeah. You know, like..."

"That's not very helpful," Kie mutters as she leans back on her elbow.

"Okay, well, no. Like the type of guys at my dad's garage. I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers," JJ explains.

"Yeah. Yes. No, we know," Kie sighs. I can tell she doesn't appreciate JJ's description of the men, or lack thereof, but none of us really had a super great look at them anyways. We were all kind of focused on not being seen.

"I can tell you with full confidence, these boys—these killers...they're square groupers," JJ says as he pulls out a juul and takes a long and deep drag on it before holding it out to me. I shake my head, not wanting anything to cloud my head and my judgement, but smile up at him nonetheless. He smiles back at me and moves the juul away from me, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. The small actions put butterflies in my stomach—butterflies that fly violently and without mercy around my insides. Not particularly caring for the feeling, I mentally catch each one before hiding them away in a jar—safe until I'm ready for them to come out.