“Could we…not play music?” Jackson slumped in the seat, already pressing the palmar surface to his head—for the impending headache he knew was coming.

The party of his friends/classmates groaned, but he honestly couldn’t care anymore. This was supposed to be a nice day with his friends—and you—at the beach. And, he really didn’t want Holt ruining that no matter how much people wanted him out.

“C’mon, we can survive without music for a bit?” Frankie laughed nervously, tilting her head as she looked over everyone.

You nodded in agreement—and before you could spout out something to defend your boyfriend—Clawdeen clasped her hand over your mouth.

“Don’t let them out until we get to the beach!” Cleo shouted, pointing.

It wasn’t until Cleo’s expensive car rolled up to the beach that you were let go from the grasps of your friends.

“…they’re calling you the yapper.” Jackson murmured softly, pushing his glasses up his nose with the palm of his hand as he sat on the towel. You and him had already set up underneath an umbrella (mainly because he didn’t do well in the sun without him burning to a crisp) and he was lathering sunscreen across your back.

“Don’t have too much fun without me…” he chuckled nervously, tilting his head as he watched you scamper across the hot sand. “I’ll be here…good luck with the rowdiness..”