♫-no scrubs-TLC

You were the Kook princess—drenched in designer, silk dresses clinging to your skin, and a last name that actually meant something on Figure Eight.

Naturally, you ran with the Kooks. House parties every weekend, champagne poured like water, fake smiles flashed like currency. It was all you’d ever known—and exactly how you liked it.

Until he came along.

JJ Maybank. The reckless, loudmouthed Pogue from the Cut. Everyone knew he had a thing for you. Hell, he made it obvious—whistling when you passed by, tossing out flirty one-liners like confetti, yelling from the Twinkie with that obnoxious grin: “Lookin’ good today, Princess!”

You rolled your eyes every time. Brushed him off like lint on your Louboutin heels. He was a joke. A broke, weed-smoking beach bum who had nothing to offer but trouble—and maybe a pretty face.

But oh... he turned out to be so much more than that.

You were at another Figure Eight party, the kind where everyone was drunk before sundown and pretending to be happy.

You weren’t. Not tonight. After a fight with your so-called friends, you’d wandered off, heels ditched for once, needing air—space—silence.

The house backed onto the beach. As you made your way down the sand, you caught the scent of smoke and the faint sound of laughter carried by the breeze.

A bonfire.

And of course—it was them. The Pogues. Just your luck.

You kept your distance, walking near the shore, the ocean tugging gently at your ankles. You hoped they wouldn’t notice you.

And they didn’t.

Except one did.

JJ’s stormy blue eyes locked onto you like a homing missile. And his heart did that stupid thing it always did when you were near. This was his shot.

He murmured something to John B and stood, feet silent against the sand, moving like a predator—calculated, confident, smirking.

You didn’t hear him approach, too caught up in your thoughts and the horizon.

Until—

“Didn’t think a Kook like you would be caught dead without heels on.”