Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"This is the most elaborate plan we've ever had", JJ grins glancing around at the group of three, his little sister included.
John B and Pope offer hearted thumbs ups with wide mischievous smiles upon the thought of the expressions on both Sarah's and Kiara's faces when they'd realised that they'd been left stranded in the middle of the ocean just a few miles off shore.
"So you're telling me, we're bringing a Kook into this?", the blonde girl mutters quietly shaking her head.
No one seems to hear her though.
Georgie struggles to hide her frown, her eyes refusing to meet anyone's — especially those of the brunet boy's who's been the source of all the drama since last night.
"Right. I'll get going then", she mumbles not to anyone in particular and turns to take her leave when JJ tuts.
"Where will I find you?".
With her eyes on the ground, she inhales deeply not letting the exertion in her voice be detected as she opens her mouth to reply.
"You won't. Because I need some time alone after all of this . . . . shit. Some time to clear my head. Don't wait up".
She doesn't wait for an answer — mostly because she knows he's too stubborn to let it go and mainly because the last thing she needs today is an argument — and walks away, quickening her speed when she hears him call out "Fucking hell, Georgina".
She doesn't care though, not today. For as dusk turns dark engulfing the island in a serene cricket filled air, Georgie has only one thing on her mind.
John B and the stinging sense of betrayal coursing through her heart that shouldn't even be there in the first place.
Her legs walk for her, mind too occupied with the events of the hours past and as the slush of the sand resounds beneath her worn out trainers Georgie bites back a sob approaching the spot closest to the incoming low tide.
She plops down on the sand, her golden hair masked in the dark of the night only shining under the gleam of the moonlight flowing behind her with a gentle ease.
