Outer Banks || Imagines

Waves || John B

    The feeling of regret comes and goes in waves. Washing in and out like the tide. It's hard to let go because I don't know why I stayed. Some of the kooks say I was afraid of failure. Others, the pogues, say it's because Outer Banks is home, even though it's not. Not my real home. I'm not pogue bred and raised.

    No, I may not have been born here, but I can't resist the sound of the crashing waves any more that someone who was, and I hop out of my car before the familiar head lights of a patrol car can catch me heading out with my board. Agatha is coming and the entire island is shutting down. But they can't monitor the entire beach.

    I can already hear Pope lecturing me about how the wind is too strong and the probability of me getting caught in the surge is much greater than my chances of being saved. By the time I'm out midway I realize he was probably right. The wind is howling, ripping at my hair and sending sharp sprays of salt water into my eyes, and I can barely hang on to my board. But then I see the monster of a wave coming towards me and I pray that the reward is greater than the risk. 

     Surfing the surge is every surfer's dream. It's like a safe haven. Just filled with sharks. And it's trying to kill you. It's not often you get a chance like this, and I'm glad I took it when I come off the first wave. I'm about to paddle back out when I hear something else other than the crashing waves. 

    "And to think I thought you were actually going to listen to Pope for once!"

    I twist around on my board to find another surfer chasing the thrill. A smile flashes across my face though the pelting rain. "What can I say, Johnny Boy? The surge was calling me." 

    His familiar freckled face grins back at me in a signature John B smile. "Just figured these east coasters would be a bit too tame for you, Miss California." I glare at him, sending a look that could be translated into 'really', without much of a second thought. John B throws his hands up in mock defense. "I'm just saying—"

     A distant rumble catches both of our attention, and the sight of a massive wave swelling causes us to immediately take off paddling towards it. It's a race to get there first, before it breaks, and I call out over my shoulder, "Back off! This one's mine!" I'm nearly there and calculate with a flash of satisfaction that I'm going to catch it just as it breaks. But when I look over at John B to give him my victory smirk, he's already pushing up on his board and standing up. The sky is black above us, relentless in it's downpour.

    What's he doing? The swell is going to swallow him before it breaks—The wave crowns just as it hits him, taking John B and his board with it as it rolls violently. "John B!" I scream through the wind, but it doesn't even reach my own ears before it is torn away. "John B!" I yell again, bracing myself against the spray that comes when the wave finally breaks. The aftermath tosses my board about, and I have to crouch down to stop myself from being thrown off. When it finally calms, I lift my head up again. "John B!" I call, but no answer.

    The panic begins to settle inside of me when he doesn't appear. "John Booker, I swear to god! C'mon, it's not funny—" 

    Just off to my left, a sopping mop of brown curls abruptly surfaces through the rain. The knot in my chest loosens a bit, and I call out in relief, "John B!" I paddle over to him as fast as I can and help him pull himself onto my board. His board is nowhere to be seen, and I'm not about to wait around looking for it in this storm, so I take off for shore through the choppy water.

    "You've got to be the biggest idiot I've ever met," I say when we finally drag ourselves out of the water and into the wet sand. We both collapse there, and John B rolls over, coughing up enough water to sink a boat.

    "I know," he says, eventually rolling back over and laying beside me. I turn my head to the side in the sand, and he's smiling at me from the same position. It's enough to make me let out an amused huff of air, and the sides of his mouth quirk up even more in satisfaction.

    I don't know what comes over me, but the next moment I'm leaning over to kiss him, and his hands are cupping my cheeks softly in return. He tastes salty against my lips, but his hands are so warm and gentle against my cheeks that I don't think to pull away until thunder cracks above us, reminding me that we probably need to get a move on.

    We race towards my Jeep as fast as any two people can move through wet sand. I stop to tie my board to the rack on top of my car, and John B catches me just as I turn around, pressing me against the side of the Jeep and kissing me again. Except this time it's more forceful with a bit of purpose behind it. He pulls away, grinning. 

     "I may have to drown more often if that's all it takes for you to kiss me." 

    I laugh and shove his arm. "Get into the car before Agatha has enough of our bullshit."

•  •  •

    "Soo...why'd you stay?" John B asks after awhile, looking over at me from the passenger seat.

    We'd decided to hunker down in the car in hopes that maybe we could catch a break in the storm and head back home, seeing as there wasn't much of a possibility of us making it through the rain. But it's been nearly three hours since then, and there's yet to have been a stopping point.

    "It's not like anything was holding you back. You always said Outer Banks was never really home, no matter how much you loved it."

    He's referring to why I didn't take the scholarship in California. Why didn't I jump at the opportunity to go surf competitively at my dream school. 

    I bit the inside of my lip and meet his hazel eyes that are watching me carefully from the passenger seat. I always thought I'd have to think of an answer when the question came, but as it turns out, I knew the answer all along. It just took me until now to realize it. 

    "Because you're home," I say softly. "You were always my home."