𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

05. sad feels and big dick ideals.

F I V E
sad feels and big dick ideals.

The panic that claws at my throat doesn't leave until the coast is clear and we get out of the cramped chicken coop.

The one thing holding me back from full-blown panic was dignity—there is no way in fucking hell I am crying in front of JJ Maybank. I've cried in front of Kie more times than I can count, and I think, while it would be awkward, I'd survive crying in front of Pope and John B. But I'd rather die than cry in front of JJ. Not happening.

The humidity and heat outside, hardly compared to the inside of the wooden hellhole—paired with the absolute stench, made it almost unbearable. Now, the outside world feels fine.

We all move quickly toward the baby-shit yellow-coloured kombi. John B jumped into the driver's seat, Kie taking the passenger seat. And me sandwiched between Pope and JJ in the back.

My sweaty skim almost immediately sticks itself to the cracked leather, and being pressed against both boys means I'm quickly overheating again. Thankfully the front windows are open, so I do feel like I can breathe.

From where he is sitting beside me, Pope dangles the loop of the compass from his hand. I watch the way the light reflects from the once shiny, now scruffy surface.

"I mean, it's obvious right, a family heirloom. What better place to hide a message?" I listen to John B try and make this situation sound less nuts than it is. No one is agreeing—except Kie.

I watch Kie look at her lap, where she fiddles with her finger. "Yeah, it's possible." She agrees, not sounding as hesitant as she should be.

"It could also be possible that you're concocting wild theories to help, you know, deal with all your sad feels." Pope poses. Something I wholeheartedly agree with. But Kie turns and shoots him a 'what the fuck' look.

JJ turns his face toward me, I look back at him as well. "You know how I process my sad feels, sweetcheeks?" He asks rhetorically. I realise how close we're sitting, I'm practically sitting on top of him my body pressed right against his side. The hand that isn't holding the handle on the roof sits on his leg, and his fingers brush my thigh. "Sex with y—" he begins saying quietly.

"JJwhatthefuck!" I rush out in one quick, breathy word, interrupting his completely inappropriate remark.

He just smirks and offers a flippant shrug.

He is never processing any sad feels with me ever again.

With every bump the kombi hits on the way to Redfield lighthouse, my seatbelt jolts. Being held together with duct tape whenever the lump tries to go through the feeder I almost get whiplash. And each time it pulls me closer to JJ, and I shuffle back, only for life to throw me back at the blond.

I'm never letting him anywhere near me again. Starting tomorrow.

When we arrive at our destination, and all clamber out of the car, I see the lighthouse. The majority of the tall structure is painted a creamy white, but the top third is a deep, slate grey. It's got a certain charm to it; the weathered effect.

Once again the outside air feels cool and crisp, the anxiety clawing at my chest doesn't feel so crippling when I'm outside. It makes it a little easier to breathe, my body lets my lungs open a little more.

"Right, here's what's going to happen." John B begins explaining. "JJ you'll post up and look out for bogeys, okay?" John B tells JJ, when I look at the blond he looks extremely offended. Great.

"Wait, why me?" He asks. His face is also full of confusion as to why taking him somewhere risky may not be the brightest idea.

"Because you're not coming," Pope answers harshly, giving him no real explanation.