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It is a fairly normal day in Outer Banks.
I say 'fairly normal' because Georgie is definitely not fuming as she sweeps the floors of the mostly vacant restaurant while thinking about John B and Kiara dancing at that very spot just the previous night.
Good news?
The drone works.
Bad news?
John B and Kiara definitely have something going on, something that no one is talking about.
Something that even her brother who is obsessed with the very idea of gossip wouldn't say a word about besides giving her a nonchalant shrug and moving away to avoid talking about it.
No Pogue on Pogue macking, that's the rule.
That's the simple explicit rule.
How hard is it to follow one goddamn rule?
One rule. They only have one rule and her friends cannot even adhere to that.
Disgusting.
She's busy cursing her friends, cursing her own self for falling for a guy who is obviously — and will always remain — out of her reach.
John B?
He always gets the good ones.
And never ever has he chosen Georgie.
Stupid stupid Georgie, how could you be so dumb?
It's well past noon when Anna Carrera calls out to the blonde girl halting her sweeping motions and ushering her towards the back of the kitchen.
Georgie, sighing, follows her only to find herself surrounded with two small batches of freshly prepared takeout.
"Would you be okay with dropping these off at the Country Club, sweetie? Hank couldn't come in today, stupid bugger caught the flu again".
