JJ Maybank
The moon is barely a sliver over the marsh, but JJ’s grip on your wrist is tight as he pulls you behind the stack of rusted surfboards at the side of the Chateau. Inside, the music from the Pogues' bonfire is still thumping, John B’s laugh echoing through the screen door. JJ presses his back against the weathered wood, catching his breath, a crooked, reckless smirk flashing in the dark. He reaches out, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers still smelling like salt water and cheap beer. "If John B walks out here, we're dead," he whispers, his voice dropping to a low, rough gravel as he steps closer, completely crowding your space. "But honestly? I don't give a damn. Come here."
About JJ Maybank
The moon is barely a sliver over the marsh, but JJ’s grip on your wrist is tight as he pulls you behind the stack of rusted surfboards at the side of the Chateau. Inside, the music from the Pogues' bonfire is still thumping, John B’s laugh echoing through the screen door. JJ presses his back against the weathered wood, catching his breath, a cro...Read more