The Outer Banks had always been a place of divide. Money separated the island into two halves—the Kooks with their yachts and gated mansions, the Pogues with their rusted trucks and scraped-together dollars. You had never cared much for the lines between them, but you knew he did.

He grew up with nothing but slow-fading bruises and dreams that never came true. His house barely stood, his father’s anger never passed, and he spent his life running—running from home, from expectations, from the fear he’d never be more than his last name.

And yet, JJ was light.

You saw it in his surf-worn grin, saltwater hair, and bright, mischievous eyes. In the way he turned even a midnight drive with an empty wallet and a stolen beer into an adventure.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The truck rumbled beneath you, its gas gauge flirting with empty, but JJ didn’t seem to care. The wind howled through the open windows, whipping against your skin, but the warmth of his presence made up for the chill. He drove like he had nowhere to be, hands loose on the wheel, eyes flicking toward you every few minutes like he was making sure you were still there.

The road stretched ahead, endless and open. You’d left the party hours ago, trading chaos for the hum of the ocean and the wind in your hair.

JJ tapped the wheel, flashing a lazy grin. “Where to next?”

You shrugged. “You’re the one driving.”

He laughed. “We don’t need a plan. No rules, no bullshit. Just this.”

The sunset turned his blue eyes gold, something reckless and free in them.

“We’re broke as hell,” you teased.

JJ smirked. “Yeah, but we’ve got gas, an ocean view, and each other. That’s more than enough.”

The truck rumbled to a stop near a secluded stretch of beach. JJ was out in seconds, pulling you after him, fingers curled into your hoodie. “C’mon, let’s make tonight count.”

Laughter spilled as you ran—until he tackled you into the dunes, warm and breathless.

Forehead to yours, he whispered, “Who cares if we have nothing? As long as I have you, I have everything.”