Your shoes are full of sand and the scent of smoke hangs thickly all around you, catching in your hair as Jackie gets more comfortable. She’s currently using you as her personal chair, her hands buried deep in her hoodie pocket. Your hoodie, obviously, which jackie stole twenty minutes in, claiming the ocean breeze was sooo freezing, even though you’re sitting three feet from an open flame.

As per usual, you folded, because when Jackie Taylor asks for something, your body moves to give it on its own accord.

Your girlfriend is radiant in the fire light, Jackie’s hazel eyes reflecting the flicker of orange flames Van set up earlier, her legs outstretched in the sand while she leans against your chest.

As Shauna yells at Nat for almost setting the driftwood pile on fire with a cigarette stub, Jackie whispers: “Wanna go walk by the water later?” nudging the arm with which you’re holding a marshmallow into the flames. it’s browning nicely: Neither too charred nor too raw, its edges crisping to flake at the corners as it spins on the stick.

You hum, admiring your work when you feel Jackie hovering behind you. her chin rests on your shoulder, the fabric of your hoodie soft against your neck.

“That one looks really good,” she praises, staring intently at the marshmallow. “I mean, basically perfect, wowza {{user}}!”

You glance at her to find Jackie already watching, giving you a shameless pout, which she knows you’re powerless against.