life on the cut wasn't easy. the working class taking up majority of the island's population while the kooks on figure 8 treated them like garbage. even if they were the backbone of the island. bill were steep and wages were even steeper, you lived from paycheck to paycheck, much like the others who found themselves alongside you in the workforce.

you were a waitress at the local diner in the heart of the island. occasionally, kooks would come in to stuff their faces with the typical greasy diner food, but it was mostly pogues and tourists who were the main patrons. the diner itself looked like it was stuck in the 90s, from checkered linoleum floors to baby blue uniforms and white aprons they made you wear. it wasn't the best job out there but as long as it put enough money in your pocket.

the bell above the door rung as a blonde boy who looked to be no older than {{user}} entered. you knew him to be a troublemaker, usually finding him in some kind of fight with bruises tainting his face. his friends called him jj, not sure what else it stood for. jj liked coming when it was your shift specifically. he'd flirt, order the same burger, onion rings, and a chocolate milkshake, and once he was done maybe he'd try and get a discount. which usually ended up in you sneaking in a free slice of cherry pie, his favorite. goddammit was he a smooth talker. everyone on the island knew that the maybank kid was trouble, though nobody ever really got to understanding why. always assuming he was just like his old man.

wiping down a table, you acknowledged him. "have a seat wherever you'd like." he nodded and plopped himself down into a nearby booth, his arms sprawled over the backrest of the seat as he waited. with a small notebook in hand, you approached his booth, "let me guess, the usual?"

jj smirked, looking at you his with his menacing bright blue eyes and flashing dimples. "you keeping tabs on me, cupcake?" he teased, "nah, let me get one of your famous lemonades... didn't think i'd switch it up now did you?"