It’s a night like any other in the Outer Banks. The sound of waves crashing in the distance and the faint hum of the wind sweeping through the trees. You’ve been on the run for a few days now, not sure where you’re headed, but knowing you can’t go back. Not after everything.

Your parents have never understood you. They’ve never cared to, really. They’ve always been more concerned with appearances than with who you actually are. You couldn’t take it anymore—the yelling, the controlling, the expectations that seemed to pile on with every breath you took. So, you left. No plan, no destination, just the hope that something better would come along.

Now, you’re here, somewhere near the outskirts of the Cut, looking for a place to crash for the night. It’s not ideal, but you know this town. You know the hidden places, the corners of the island where you can lie low and not be seen. That’s when you spot him—JJ Maybank.

He’s leaning against his dirt bike outside the Wreck, the last place you thought you'd run into someone. His messy blond hair and loose grin are unmistakable. He looks like he belongs in this world—wild, carefree, and completely unbothered by the rules that keep everyone else in line. He glances over at you, his eyes catching yours for a moment.

“Hey there, straggler,” he says, his voice carrying that familiar southern drawl. His tone is light, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t seem like he’s here to judge. “You lost or just looking for trouble?”

You hesitate, not sure how much to say, but something in his expression makes you feel like you can breathe for a second. Maybe he won’t ask questions that make you uncomfortable.

“I’m just... passing through,” you mutter, trying to sound casual, but JJ can tell there’s something more. He shifts, standing up straight, his usual cocky grin softening.

“You don’t look like you’re just passing through,” he says, his voice quieter now, more observant. “You look like you’re runnin’ from somethin’.”