042 !! DETECTIVE

"I told her and she rejected me".

Pope settles down on the entry steps of The Wreck beside the half asleep blonde who has her eyes furiously fixated on the screen of her phone.

Her droopy eyelids turn to the boy sat next to her, his face stoic and jaw set in a grimace as he stares at her waiting for a response.

"Told who what?".

He sighs loudly, his gaze faltering and skimming over his dirty vans scraped with mud and whatnot. There's a tiny hole on the top of the shoes, significantly small but visible to the naked eye nonetheless.

His brows pull together when he realises that the last time he bought new shoes was last year for his yearly back to school shopping, he couldn't buy much — since it was a particularly difficult year what with the fashionably new convenience store opening right across the street — and so, the few things he could afford entailed some books, stationery and a pair of shoes.

The state of his worn out shoes had bugged his mother for she'd offered to get him a brand new pair for his seventeenth birthday but he had politely shot down the idea and asked for a set of books instead.

What an odd son I have, Mrs. Heyward had thought while picking out a special Agatha Christie collection in the local bookstore.

Though now a new pair of shoes doesn't exactly seem that bad, he knows he wouldn't trade a chance at owning a carefully curated Detective Poirot collection for anything in the world.

Definitely not stupid shoes when these work just fine.

"I . . . .", Pope inhales deeply, "I told Kiara that I'm in love with her and she rejected me".

His eyes find Georgie's, a frown rests on her features her weary eyes blinking in understanding, a shadow of melancholy passes behind her irises.

"Oh, Pope", she threads her fingers through his, her lips pulling down as a pained expression remains painted over her face.

"You're in love with her?".

His lips tug into a sad smile, "At least that's what it feels like. She says I'm not made to do the things she wants to do. Do you really think I wouldn't wanna go to Antarctica and monitor endangered species? That's like living the dream, I'd love to do that with her".

Georgie lets out a small dejected laugh, "You'd be great at it too".

"I know right? I just wish . . . . I hate how she's just assuming everything about me now just so she can justify turning me down. She could've just said she doesn't feel the same . . . that would've hurt a lot less than—", he exhales loudly shaking his head, "all this".

"What made you do it though?", she peers up at him with an indescribable emotion in her gaze.

He shrugs, "I don't know, I was high and . . . I don't know, it just felt right because suddenly I had all this courage and I knew if not now then probably never".

She nods glancing down at her phone.

"I'm sorry".

"Don't be. I gotta get used to rejection after that little stunt I pulled at my interview yesterday. Turns out, life isn't as forgiving as I expected it to be".

Georgie shakes her head, "But it should be. At least for you. You worked your fuckin' ass off for that scholarship, Pope. I saw you, I know how much effort you put into it and after everything, you still helped us with the Royal Merchant. You could've just taken a break, said 'I'm gonna use this time to rest' but you didn't. And all of this fucking sucks".

Pope sighs, leaning back.

"I guess that's life".

She silently averts her eyes to the screen of her phone, her brows involuntarily knitting together as she remains staring at the screen.

"Waitin' on lover boy to text back?".

She groans, "You have got to stop calling him that".

"Give me a name and I'll stop".

She throws him a glare over her shoulder earning a quiet laugh from the dark haired boy.

"Are you, though?", he straightens up.

She purses her lips, "Not really".

"That's not a believable response".

"Well, I'm not striving for believable. I just don't wanna talk about it".

"Okay, woah", he brings his hands up in defence, "I'm just concerned".

Georgie chuckles dryly, a humourless sound full of pity and borderline depressing escaping her lips.

"Don't be, there's no point".

He pats her shoulder when he goes to get up, "I'll go check in on Kiara and JJ".

She only acknowledges him with a nod, pathetically tapping on her phone to check if they are any new notifications.

With John B out alone somewhere and Rafe's radio silence after that one text he sent her the day prior, everything quite literally feels like it's coming down on her.

It's difficult to stay positive when every single time she attempts to look on the bright side, all of them get collectively jeopardised.

She knew she shouldn't have but during the night, sitting on the cold hardwood floors of The Wreck, her mind kept imagining and binging on a serious spiral of unhealthy overthinking which forced her to grab her phone and text the one person she should be farthest from right now.

It's stupid, really but there was just something about those three words he'd texted her that afternoon and more so, the man behind the words — the destroyer, the culprit of their downfall — that compelled her into sending him a message.

GEORGIE : be honest, did you actually agree to this? — she had texted him with an attachment of the poster stuck on every electric pole and tree throughout Outer Banks.

25,000 dollars for John Booker Routledge.

What would he say anyway? He is, in no way, bound to be honest with you. You were just hooking up, it meant nothing.

The thoughts came in a tired pace at first and just when she began drowning in them, they surged falling down on her with the force of a ferocious flood ridding her of common sense and intuition and pulling her down into a blackhole of mortifying emotions.

"Meet me at the dock at three. Don't be late", Pope comes thundering out of the door, descending the steps in a hurry.

Georgie confusedly looks up at Kiara who rushes out with him.

"Okay, what is your problem?", she stomps her feet as he mounts on JJ's bike parked a few meters away.

"No problem, Officer. I'm just doing my job", he inserts the key, turning the motorcycle on.

Kiara steps forward, "Look, I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings".

He grips the handlebars revving up the engine.

"What was that?", he raises a brow.

She sighs, "Look I didn't mean to—".

He revs the engine again, a loud obnoxious noise filling the air due to his action.

"Sorry, I can't hear you. What was that?", he continues rotating the handlebars, his unbothered gaze fixed on an irritated Kiara.

"Pope, I'm being serious—", she throws her arms down when the noise persists,  "I'm trying to talk to you!".

Ignoring her, he suddenly takes off leaving her to stand there staring after him in shock.

The sound of heavy footsteps greet the blonde sat on the steps causing her to glance up and catch sight of her brother leaning against the railing.

"What was that?", she whispers.

"Drama, what else?", he rolls his eyes,"We're helping our boy run off".

Georgie tilts her head.

"What do you mean?".

"It means, Georgie", he sighs heavily looking down at her, "that we're gonna help him get off the island".

"And how do you propose we do that?".

He shrugs, "Easy. The Phantom, and a whole lot of food".

Her brow perks up, "How are you gonna get the Phantom?".

He presses his lips together.

"Leave that to me".

***
i published a jj au yesterday so if you're a stan, go have a look at it my loves !!!