Prologue

"Gone are the days of childhood crushes,

making way for the more glorious teenage romance."©

Throwing more clothes haphazardously into a moving box, Lyla's head bobbed to the music playing through her headphones. It was the last day of packing and she was surprisingly calm, most likely trying to hold off the freakout until they were closer to her favorite place on earth: Outer Banks. Until then, she would pretend like everything was normal and soak up the last of Florida before hopefully never returning.

Almost everything was already packed as the family of four had been progressively throwing things together for the past week. All that was left of Lyla's things were her clothes and special knickknacks, most of which would be thrown in a suitcase. The rest was simply bulky furniture that needed to be loaded into the moving van.

Glancing around the room that had been hers for the last three years, she felt a bit wistful. It had always been her dream to go back home and she'd never particularly liked Florida, but it had been her home for almost as long as she could remember. Maybe, if the Outer Banks wasn't where her heart resided, she would have learned to love it.

Letting out a light sigh, she quickly closed the overstuffed box, taping it shut and labeling it accordingly. As she walked around the bed, her headphone wire got caught on the frame, causing her to adjust the right side before it got pulled out. As the song changed to one of her favorite Unlike Pluto songs, her hands raised, swaying along to the beat as she spun around her mattress with a tiny, pleased smile. She didn't even notice someone else enter the room.

"Ly."

The nickname went completely overlooked as she flitted over to her bedside table, grabbing up a few little figurines and a single picture frame. The boy standing behind her rolled his eyes before walking through the doorframe, coming up right behind her to pull out an earbud.

Screeching, Lyla whirled around with wide eyes, staring at her barely younger brother. Her heart stuttered in her chest, raising a hand to try and steady it. She really should've been more used to that at this point, someone probably had to do it at least once a day.

"Jesus, T, you scared the crap out of me."

"I don't see anything."

Narrowing her eyes, Lyla flicked him for the smart-ass comment before turning back around to collect her things. She did the same with anything left in/on her other nightstand, adding it to the pile next to her suitcase.

"I'm done packing and I'm bored." Tristan drawled, running a hand over his buzz-cut head before flopping back on her bed in the tiny space next to the box and behind her bag.

"So, go do something."

"Yes, because there's so much to do."

Turning away from her work, Lyla placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "There are literally dozens of things to do in this city and you know it."

"Okay..." The boy started, rolling over so his head was placed in his hand to stare at her lazily. "Things I want to do. Things that don't involve crowds of people trying to talk to me and get into my business."

Lyla tilted her head slightly in assent, knowing people in Florida weren't exactly their favorite. While the girl was much more social than her brother, the last thing she would deal with was snobby, drama-crazed Floridian young adults. She would certainly never subject her baby brother to that fate alone.

"That's true. Why don't you go play video games or something." The blank look on Tristan's face clearly showed that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't in the mood. "Okay, or I'm almost done. We can go down to the beach for one last hurrah before we leave?"

Tristan seemed to think for a moment before perking up slightly, his lips twitching. "Our beach, right?"

"Of course."

That was all that needed to be said to have Tristan grinning widely, something easily reciprocated on Lyla's face. Nothing warmed her heart more than her brother's happiness. He was tender and deserved nothing but the best, but sadly, didn't receive that as much as she wished.

It wasn't long before Lyla had a few outfits packed, along with her most important knickknacks like a family picture from last year, another of her and her father when she caught her first wave, and a llama figurine that her step-father had gotten her while on a vacation out of the country. Her laptop was packed as well, right on top, and everything was shoved over by the rest of the packing boxes for moving the next day.

Huffing, Lyla waved Tristan out of the room and the boy bounded out trying to act like there wasn't a tiny pep in his step. Quickly changing into a black bikini she laid out, Lyla pulled up a pair of dark purple cotton shorts and a maroon halter top before rejoining her brother. Looping an elbow through his, she tugged him along, neither bothering to shout into the empty house that they were leaving.

Hopping into the car that they shared, Lyla pulled the little metal tin from her pocket and threw it into the passenger seat before Tristan could say a word. The boy fumbled with it for a few seconds, face scrunching up, before finally getting a hold of it and opening it to grab a Camel '99 from inside.

"It's like you know me or something."

A grin cracked on Lyla's face as she chuckled, rolling down the front windows as Tristan used the dark blue lighter from his pocket to light the cigarette. Lyla could practically feel some of the tenseness in his shoulders fade away as he took that first hit.

"Well, if I didn't by now, I'd be a bit concerned."

Truthfully, it was like they'd known each other their entire lives instead of only five years. As soon as they met, despite their parents being worried, they'd hit it off. Within minutes, the brunette was able to coax a ten-year-old Tristan into conversation and after thirty, they were playing video games and nudging each other like they'd been born minutes apart instead of months and to different families. They'd been inseparable ever since and god help anyone who even got on one of their nerves because the other would be two steps away ready to throw a punch.

After a few heavy drags that turned light, Tristan handed the thing over to her and let her get her fix. She didn't need much as the boy was the heavier smoker between them and the rest was finished by him a few minutes later.

It took a while to get to their destination, the drive being filled with loud music that Tristan would go from mildly nodding his head at to showcasing elaborate guitar solos. Every time, Lyla would laugh and stick her hand out the window, creating waves on the air.

In what felt like barely any time at all, they were driving down a familiar sand-filled road. As she slowly pulled into the small, open lot, Lyla realized with a heavy heart that this may be the only thing she would actually miss in Florida. Not her beautiful home or her fake friends or her favorite roller rink, this. This little piece of deserted beach that she and Tristan had come across two years ago that basically no one knew about. It had practically been her saving grace after they came back home from their parents' wedding and she realized that little time she got to spend with a certain Maybank in Outer Banks wasn't nearly enough.

"Alright, let's get to it."

Stepping out of the car, the two worked together to grab their towels and ice chest and Lyla's portable speaker. Locking the doors, the two teenagers trudged up the small hill, cooler swinging between them. Spreading their towels out on the beach, they quickly plopped down and situated their things between them as the waves crashed against the shores in peaceful chaos.

Lyla sighed in content, quickly pulling off her outer layers while Tristan stripped down to his swim trunks. While his sister fixed her hair and lit a joint, he pulled one of the sandwiches from the cooler. Before she could even try handing the thing to him, he was halfway through his lunch.

"Jesus, have you eaten today?"

"No." He responded, the sound muffled by another giant bite of turkey and cheese sandwich. "Procrastinated packing, did a lot of it today."

Lyla nodded in understanding, taking another drag off her preferred vice before handing it to Tristan. The boy quickly scarfed down the last of his food before grabbing it and taking a hit before it could go out.

"So..." The girl trailed off, connecting the Bluetooth speaker to her phone. "How are you feeling about moving to OBX? You've only been there once and didn't exactly spend a lot of time outside our motel room."

Tristan scoffed, taking a drag off the well-rolled joint before passing it back to his sister. He really wasn't sure how he felt about the move but he wasn't sad about it. It's not like he really had any friends, not any that were particularly real, at least. Not in a long time. He was excited for something new, even if it was just a smaller town with fewer fake people. The only thing he was truly worried about was the change. He didn't like change. At least with how things were, it was something he was used to.

"I dunno. I guess it's a good thing. I liked what little I saw of it when we were there."

"But..."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "But...you've told me stories about how things were even as a kid." Cue joint hit for dramatic effect. "People might be fake here, but at least everyone isn't at each other's throats all the time."

"Who knows, maybe things have gotten better." The barely-there blank looks they shared while Lyla fixed the music showed that neither of them believed that to be true. "Okay, okay, I highly doubt things have changed, but at least they don't act like they like each other. You might have to look over your shoulder half the time, but you know who you're looking out for. And I've never known friendship like I've known it there. The good comes with the bad."

Tristan nodded, shrugging his shoulders. He supposed she was right. Pretending like he gave a damn about Floridian drama got tiring after about two minutes of socialization; maybe Outer Banks would offer something new, something less monotonous and annoying. Or at least more people leaving him be instead of dragging him into activities he in no way wanted to be a part of.

The two lounged out after that, soaking up as much sun as possible as they listened to music and drank hard cider. Lyla ate her food and smoked another joint to herself as her brother was already tipsy and didn't like mixing substances much.

After what was probably an hour or two of sparse conversation and stupid jokes on preppy white girls' behalf, Lyla suddenly sprang up with a wicked grin and grabbed Tristan, pulling him up so hard she almost fell over. Giggling, she dragged him over to the water, claiming that it might be the last time they would come to their favorite place and they should make the most of it.

They stayed for hours and when they went home, both were tired and more than ready for the long drive to come the following day.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Far up the east coast, another group of teenagers were together - as per usual - completely unaware that their lives were about to change astronomically. Instead, they were laughing and lounging out in their favorite place: the Chateau.

The Chateau was a beat-up old house but it was loved and taken care of as much as Routledge and Maybank hands could manage. The home on the water once inhabited a treasure-crazed fisherman and his rowdy son, along with two blonde teenagers that almost never left the premises. For almost a year, that kind, grumpy man had been missing and his brother had come and gone, barely trying to take after the fisherman's son before leaving him alone once again. Luckily, he was never alone. A set of twins would never in their life allow that.

The Chateau was a great home; nothing fancy, but it had a wrap-around porch to die for and was away from people. The yard held random items like picnic tables, buoys, and chairs strewn around, twinkly lights strung up, and a hammock tied up in the Routledge boy's favorite tree. In front of that tree were six teenagers without a care in the world, much drunker than they should've been. It was Max's fault, really.

In the hammock lounged a giggling CJ Maybank wrapped up in the arms of a wholly enamored John B Routledge who was watching her like the stars shined in her eyes. JJ Maybank was leaned against the tree, having just grabbed the Juul he and his sister shared from her shaking hand as he let out a loud laugh at the stupid story one Maxwell Kinsington was telling.

Max was sat next to the only other blood Kook of the bunch, Kiara Carrera. The semi-wealthy girl was leaned on his shoulder, nursing a beer as literal tears ran down her face from laughing so hard. Pope Heyward was curled up in her lap, dying as Kie ran her fingers through his hair.

Now, these were the Pogues. In Outer Banks, everyone was separated by a title. The rich and entitled who looked down on everyone were called the Kooks. They lived on the nice side of town called Figure Eight and didn't take kindly to others, particularly the lower class.

The Tourons were the tourists, people who came to OBX not really knowing what it was about as they strolled the beaches, got propositioned by islanders, and always ended up caught up in a fight between the town's inhabitants.

That left the Pogues; the lower-working class. They lived on the Cut and did any work they could, just trying to survive while living as much as they were able. They did what they wanted, when they wanted, because why the hell shouldn't they? They'd reap the consequences anyway, so why not make it worthwhile?

This was the life motto of all the Pogues...or, at least the younger ones. But to none more than the Pogues. They were family in everything but blood (nix Maybanks) and would die and live for each other. A combination of born Pogues and Kooks that despised their kind, they should've been labeled as outcasts but were instead something so much more. They had what no one else on that island had and no one would ever be able to recreate it. They had each other and they had chaos and love that knew no bounds. Adventure and meaning and hunger for more. They were the finest OBX had to offer, even if most would rather throw themselves to the sharks than admit it. And soon, they would have two more, one born Pogue and another that didn't truly know the meaning of any of the definitions.

The six were sitting in their respective spaces around a fire pit that had been made years prior by the Maybanks and Max. The self-labeled Pook boy had just finished his retelling of a night he and JJ had gone skinny dipping and been caught by one of the old deputies. JJ had raced out of the water, tripping over himself on the sand and almost landing right on their dry clothes. Max was sure the only reason he even grabbed their clothing before running away giggling was because of that. Max was left to quickly follow, flipping the officer off as he bent over to offer the perfect view.

"Hey, JJ, let's go get more beer."

Stifling her snickers, Kie leaned off of Max's shoulder, allowing him to get up and walk over to pull his best friend off the ground. Grinning at one another, they wrapped drunken arms around each other before meandering over to the back door. The others shared knowing looks before bursting into giggles, ignoring the horny teenagers as was the norm.

Stumbling through the living room, JJ was already working at Max's shirt with fumbling fingers, unbuttoning it stupidly fast for how inebriated he was as the pair's lips were locked, fighting for dominance that neither and both won without fail. JJ chuckled as he finally got the last button loose, pushing the sleeves from Max's sharp shoulders without a care as the black shirt fell to the hallway floor.

Pushing the blonde forward, Max slammed him against the door separating them from John B's room. It was a position that was eerily familiar and made a dark, fond sound bubble up from the teenager's throat as his teeth grazed the Maybank's neck. In no mood for teasing, JJ's hand reached for the doorknob, inevitably finding it, sending them both tumbling in; Max was quick to slam it closed behind them before JJ pinned him to the other side.

"Look at you, all pretty for me." He slurred, an obvious smirk in his voice as he nudged Max's chin to nibble on his jaw.

"Flattery gets you nowhere."

"Flattery gets you in my bed, don't lie."

"Well..."

Before the boy could make a comment about how they'd never and would never in a million years actual fuck in JJ's bed, let alone his house, the Maybank silenced the words with a hungry kiss, tugging him forward by his belt loops.

"Take 'em off."

"Yes, sir." Max half mocked, allowing himself to be pushed onto the bed where he stripped down to his underwear. Purposely, he almost lightly kicked JJ in the face, making the boy rear back and slap the sock-covered appendage before they both chuckled.

Jumping in the bed post-strip, JJ spun Max around so he was hovering over him, just staring down at him. The Kinsington looked up at him with a tempting expression, eyebrow raised in challenge. JJ could feel the smirk on the boy's lips when he gave in first.

It was only seconds after JJ rolled his hips down that a groan was heard and he was suddenly the one on bottom. Licking Max's bottom lip, he bit it harshly, earning himself a hiss and a small grunt that guaranteed it would be a long night.

"You're an animal."

"Takes one to know one."

"Fuck you, Maybank."

"Nah, I'd rather fuck you instead."

The laughter that already punctuated Max's previous words heightened, giving JJ the perfect opportunity to flip them back over. Smirking down at the entirely too attractive rich boy, he reached for his wrists, pinning them effortlessly above his head.

"Grab your phone." He said, leaned over so his gravelly voice spoke right into Max's ear. Barely leaning back, he looked over his sexual partner's features as they turned roguish.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

JJ let him go, leaning up slightly so Max could get to his pants pocket. When he pulled his phone up, the Maybank grabbed it and immediately turned on the camera, placing it in a good spot on the side table.

"For memory's sake."

"Oh, yes, of course. Definitely not for jacking off purposes." Max responded, a heavy lilt to his tone. When JJ looked back down, his blue eyes were pierced with hazel green.

"Of course not."

Not allowing anymore talking, the blonde leaned over him, running the pads of his fingers over bare skin, feeling the way Max shivered underneath him. Smirking wryly, he kissed the boy hard, tangling a hand in those god damn curls. Tugging slightly, he was rewarded with a low groan and being pulled closer to the body underneath him, nails digging into his hips.

The two rolled around until there were no clothes and JJ was back on top, slowly adjusting. Max had his eyes sealed shut, one hand tugging on JJ's hair while his teeth were sunk into the tender skin between neck and shoulder. It took everything in him not to just take him then and there.

Eventually, they got past the niceties and the Maybank was moving at a steady pace, hips rolling into the body underneath him, one hand planted to Max's right with the other harshly pinning him down by the forearm. Both of them were breathing heavily, JJ's head thrown back in ecstasy.

Max moved as much as he could, kissing up JJ's chest as the boy groaned, jerking at the tiniest lick to his nipple. Max did it again, smirking at the way JJ shivered and growled before pressing him harder into the mattress.

And that was how they spent the night, like many nights before it, but absolutely none after it. If anyone asked them, they'd certainly say it was perfect for the occasion.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

So...there it is. Sorry it took so long, folks, I've had zero motivation and have had barely any time to even work on my fully active stories. I hope you liked it!

Really never thought I'd have smut in a prologue but I'm absolutely obsessed with the concept of JJ and Max and we won't see any (more than friendship wise) after the Bryant's show up, so-

And I hope some of you TS readers are glad JJ finally had someone to go skinny dipping with lmao

Love you guys!

~SiriusCatBennett