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"JAY, WHY ARE WE AT THE BONEYARD?" Judy hops down from the back of the boy's red motorbike, sneakers sinking into the pillowy gold sand beneath their feet.
JJ grins, twirling his keys around his index finger. "You'll see." Stuffing them into the back pocket of his shorts, he makes a point of picking up her hand, and a rolled up blanket with the other, before they set off on a walk to wherever the hell they're actually supposed to be going.
The sky is still relatively dark, though daylight is slowly beginning to seep into the infinite black canvas, adding a huey blue undertone. The beach is empty, naturally, because the world is still asleep. It's strangely peaceful, being the only two people awake.
Okay, maybe not the only two. But the only two crazy enough to come to the Boneyard at four-thirty in the morning.
The ocean moves back and forth, gently lapping up the land, and then retreating, creating a serene atmosphere like something out of an ASMR sleep ambience.
The two teens wade through the familiarity of the Boneyard, flashbacks of her birthday creeping back to the front of Judy's mind. But they don't stop. They keep moving, progressing further and further down the coastline, hand in hand, with a calm breeze blowing across their chests and faces.
There's a subtle chill in the air. Enough so for JJ to insist on lending her his old, navy blue sweatshirt before they'd left the Chateau. She feels bad, though. He's only sporting his general three-quarter length shorts and a sleeveless white vest, with a cap situated backwards on the top of his head. Though as the guilt seeps in, she realises he doesn't actually seem all too bothered by the early morning temperature.
Plus his arms are very nice to look at.
"It's not far from here." He squeezes his fingers around hers, intertwined and bound as one.
Her heart leaps deliciously behind the flesh and bone of her chest. She feels like she's struck gold, lost in a dream. A really, really good dream. Tonight, her brother's best friend kissed her. He kissed her. Jesse-James Maybank. The floppy haired boy she's had feelings for since he was first introduced to their family in the third grade, kissed her.
And now he's holding her hand!
The burrows of his dimples have never been sweeter to look at. Call her presumptuous, but she doesn't think she's ever seen him smile the way he's smiling right now. And after witnessing him at his lowest of lows last night, the image is pure ecstasy.
