Content Warning: mentions of drugging and rape (the acts or not depicted, only mentioned)
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𝟮𝟳 art of deceitful manipulation
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Trinity needed Eleanor Routledge.
Ellie was her best friend, partner in crime, and soulmate all in one person and she also happened to be the only person who Trinity would ever find herself confessing her growing attachment to a certain blond, blue-eyed miscreant to.
Maybe Ellie's absence was the world's way of telling Trinity that she needed to bottle her trivial feelings forever—maybe even literally.
A small smile pulled at the Shoupe girl's lips as she thought about tearing out a small piece of paper from the book that had started it all, and writing on it that she had never felt more alive than when she found herself with JJ Maybank. She thought about then rolling that piece of paper up and sticking it into a glass bottle before chucking it into the ocean.
And if a stranger happened to find it despite Trinity's intent to keep her feelings hidden forever, they could decide for her whether what she felt was love or not. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd have to wait until she was sure of it herself.
How many more joints would she have to smoke with JJ— how many more kisses, illicit touches, synchronized moans— until she realized that there was no escaping her feelings for him.
Just thinking about the previous night she'd shared with the Maybank boy had her blushing on the spot even while she was kept occupied by working a shift at the country club on Figure Eight Island.
She brushed her hands abrasively against the apron she wore around her waist as if her actions would wipe away her clandestine thoughts along with the frying oil smeared on the pads of her fingers from clearing tables. But no matter how occupied her hands were, her mind was wholly free to think about what it felt like to have JJ on top of her, hands pinning her beneath him by her wrists while smothering her with the most sinful kisses she'd ever received.
