CHERRY, CHERRY ʲʲ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵃⁿᵏ

𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑼𝑬

" you dream of my mouth before it called
you a lying traitor."

PROLOGUE
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

JJ Maybank had been caught in the Sheriff's net one too many times, this morning adding to that long list, and he had been thinking all day about the best way he could get under Shoupe's skin,

without putting himself in jail.

And it wasn't until she caught his eye, white dress and barefoot in the summer sand, arm linked through Sarah Cameron's as they both twirled around beside a fire some kooks had started down the other side of the beach, that suddenly his eyes were wide with ideas, and that smirk was playing on his lips and it had his two friends groaning beside him.

     "You can't mack on the Shoupe's daughter, JJ," Pope mutters, slinging an arm around the blonde boy's shoulder as he brings the beer can in his hand to his lips, "he would bury you."

The blonde boy grins, nudging Pope's other arm as if this was the greatest thing he had ever come up with, "that's the point— he couldn't do anything about it."

     "—Listen, no offence, but I don't think Cherise Shoupe would be macking on you anyways," John B adds.

The Maybank boy narrows his eyes at the brunette, suddenly shrugging the arm from his shoulders away. "You think?"

     He glances past the fire, missing the way the two boys shook their heads, watching the blonde intently as the sound of her laughter travelled all the way to where he was stood.

     He would almost admit he would listen to it for hours, if only she was somebody else.

     Nobody really dared to go near Cherise Shoupe, she was like forbidden fruit in an island full of corrupt teenage boys that wanted things they couldn't have. The only person that had really come close was Rafe Cameron, and even then, he never got close enough.

     The corners of his mouth turn up slightly, downing the rest of his drink before turning back to them.

     "I don't like that look," Pope grumbles.

     "You bet I couldn't get her by the end of summer?"

      "I don't think we should be betting on—"

     "Shut up Pope, look who she's friends with anyways, could imagine she's done worse things."

     He knew it was wrong— to bet on girls. Of course he did. He knew he was being boyish and just wanted some sort of one up on all the times he had been arrested just for carrying his Dad's name.

     But he also knew of all the times she was there when he was jumped by Kooks that were too far up their own ass, how she would stand behind them looking so innocent but yet couldn't open her pretty mouth about it.

    He knew she was just like the rest of them.

     So maybe, he thought, she deserved it.

     "I'll bet on it," John B shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips, eyebrow raised at the blonde's confidence, or maybe the five beers he had downed in the last hour that were now talking for him.

     "Yeah? What you bettin'?"

     The Routledge glances down the beach, letting out a huff of breath as he falls into a minute of silence, thinking of something he knew would have JJ follow through.

     "My boat."

The blonde's eyes widen, sticking out his hand to let John B know it was an immediate done deal.

     "—And if you lose," he trails.  "—I get your bike."

He drops his hand, scoffing, "no way, not part of the bet," he mutters, waving him off.

"C'mon, you're the one that just said you think you would have no problem," John B mimics, raising a brow as the blonde now resembles that of a sulking toddler, kicking his empty beer can along the sand.

And twenty minutes later, after too many back and forths and JJ's ego bruising just slightly listening to them both tell him he's going to lose, he eventually spit shakes on it.

     And that is how he was now sat on the sand downing his sixth beer of the night, wondering how on earth he was supposed to get the girl.

Because there wasn't a hope in the world he was losing.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ bella's notes
John B and JJ are NOT in my good books at the start of this fic,
such losers
chapter one coming very soon.
please don't be a ghost reader.
lots of love