𝙄 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙏𝙊𝙊 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙈𝙀.
If Stella and her friends knew what they were getting into when they stumbled upon a sunken shipwreck, they probably would've brushed up on their treasure hunting skills.
season 1...
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SUGARCOAT — KID BLOOM Can't keep myself from hitting the ceiling baby Too stoned to do anything about it
THE NEXT DAY, Stella woke up to an empty bed. In the early hours of the morning, JJ had climbed through her window, stirring her from her slumber as he settled in beside her. But when the sun came up, he was gone, and the only trace of his presence was a flower from the neighbour's lawn on her bedside table and a good morning text in her phone.
She asked him what his plan for John B was, but was met with nothing more than a smiley face emoji. She thought about pressing the subject since JJ's ideas always ranged from harmless fun to federal crimes and it was hard to tell where his head was at, but ultimately decided against it when her alarm went off and she was forced to get ready for her shift at the hospital.
Stella had a love-hate relationship with her golden girl reputation. Sometimes, the idealized version of herself was something she almost resented. She was so much more than her grades and warm smile, but she supposed it could've been worse. At least people respected her, and this way, she could do whatever she wanted without fear of punishment since people would never believe she was capable of getting her hands dirty.
Returning to the hospital, she thought that her reputation would be shattered beyond repair. After all, she was the best friend of an alleged killer, and it was no secret that she tried to help him escape the clutches of the law. But to her surprise, people regarded her with pity.
Instead of judgemental sneers and whispers of "That's what you get for slumming it on the South Side", she was met with an overwhelming amount of sympathy. In the eyes of her coworkers, she was an impressionable young girl who was fooled by a boy she thought she knew. What a joke.
Halfway through her shift, she found the pitied stares of those around her suffocating. The idea that she was some naive girl who didn't know any better annoyed the hell out of her because she did know better. She knew who killed Peterkin and in no way was she taken advantage of. But with John B's arrest and preliminary hearing, arguing the fact would just make her look like she was stuck in denial.
Just after her break, she found herself hiding away in a supply closet, changing the bandage on her recently re-stitched wound. Her mother still didn't know about it and she didn't want any nosy coworkers to catch a glimpse and tell her.
With an disinfectant-soaked cotton pad in one hand, she dabbed away at the wound, wincing at the dull pain. Her phone started to ring as she reached for another and her brows furrowed at the caller ID.
"Ricky?" she questioned, accepting the call. "Why are you calling me?"
Ricky was someone she saw quite frequently. Aside from being JJ's cousin and weed dealer, he was also an EMT. It wasn't unusual to see him hanging out around the hospital. He even taught the first aid class she took last year. Their relationship was friendly, and he liked to tease her about JJ and scold her about cannabis use in youth, but calling her was out of the ordinary for him.
