"This all ol' Ophelia's got? Agatha was way bigger." Chuckling as his feet hit the sand, JJ looked back at his friends piling out of the Twinkie. Tropical Storm Ophelia had just graced the coasts of the Outer Banks, bringing her luggage of high winds and stormy weather; not to mention, a rowdy swell.

So, why wouldn't the Pogues surf it?

"I, for one, am not going to stand around and waste perfectly good waves." You'd giggle, running over to the water, board tucked under your arm. John B and JJ were close behind, laughing as they slid into the water's cool touch.

Sitting around on boards, the three of you waited for your wave. Looking behind you, you grinned as the overhead inched towards you. "First one's mine." You announced, paddling like hell.

"Bullshit! Shit's twice your size, not my fault if you snap your neck." JJ called out from behind you.

Both he and John B watched in amazement, whooping and cheering as you dropped in, standing with ease. "Atta girl!" JJ yelled, clapping obnoxiously.

"Woah, woah, what's this dude doin'?" John B elbowed JJ, eyes on some guy who was paddling closer to your wave.

Before the two could contest, the guy dropped in, immediately knocking you off your board. JJ screamed out your name, watching as you were pulled under in the matter of seconds. It all went dark as you plunged into the cold, tough current, trying to fight your way to the surface. But, your board was violently dragging you by your leash, never giving up.

Your lungs burned as you reached for the surface, but it was no use. You fell limp in the water as two firm arms were stuck under yours, pulling you up to air. "C'mon, c'mon, get up on the board." JJ spoke to himself, sliding you onto his board.

Bloody and unconscious, JJ laid you down onto the sand as Pope and Kiara rushed over. "C'mon, wake your ass up! Can't die, that's not cool." JJ panicked. Unsure of what to do, he taps your wet cheek, then presses shaky palms to your chest. "Fuck! Come on, come on. Start breathing, c'mon."