013. flirt with those eyes

( the thirteenth chapter )

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Olivine sat up straight, her heart skipping a beat as she reread the text. Something bad happened? Her fingers flew across the screen as she quickly replied.

Olivine: What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?

The three dots indicating Kie was typing popped up almost immediately.

Kie: We're fine, but Jay's freaking out. Long story. Can you just come? We're at the Chateau.

Olivine frowned, anxiety creeping in. She didn't like the sound of this, but Kie rarely asked for help unless she truly needed it. Without hesitation, Olivine swung her legs off the bed and headed toward the bathroom to rinse off her mask.

Her mind raced as she quickly dried her face and grabbed her car keys from the dresser. She shot a quick reply back to Kie.

Olivine: On my way. Stay put.

As she slipped on her sneakers and a hoodie, her stomach churned with unease. Whatever had happened, it didn't sound good. She didn't know what she was walking into, but Kie and the others were her friends. She wouldn't let them down.

Stuffing her phone into her pocket, Olivine headed out the door and into the night, the distant hum of cicadas filling the air as she started her car.

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Olivine's tires crunched against the gravel driveway of John B's house, the faint glow of her headlights illuminating the ramshackle home. Her stomach sank at the sight before her.

Kiara was standing by the porch steps, tapping her phone against her palm with a mixture of impatience and nervous energy. Behind her, JJ was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his hands running through his hair repeatedly. Pope sat on the edge of the porch, his head buried in his hands, his shoulders tense.

And then there was John B.

He leaned against the porch railing, his face illuminated by the weak glow of a nearby lantern. His eye was swollen, his lip split, and dried blood stained his cheek. His clothes were dirty, and he looked utterly defeated.

Olivine parked the car and climbed out, her eyes scanning the group. "What the hell happened?"

Kiara stepped forward, a deep frown etched on her face. "It's a long story. Can we just get out of here first?"

"Not until you tell me why John B looks like he just went ten rounds in a cage fight," Olivine snapped, pointing toward him.

Kiara sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. "Topper. He—he jumped him. A bunch of them did. They cornered John B at the beach and—"

"Beat the crap out of him," Olivine finished, her voice tight with anger as her gaze swept over John B's injuries.

"Yeah," Kiara said quietly, guilt flashing across her face.

"Okay, and why is JJ pacing like he's about to explode?" Olivine asked sharply, her eyes narrowing on JJ, who stopped mid-step and looked at her.

JJ's jaw tightened, and he avoided her gaze, his fingers fidgeting.

"JJ pulled a gun on Topper," Kiara said in a rush, as if saying it quickly would lessen the blow.

Olivine's heart dropped, and she froze, her eyes darting between Kiara and JJ. "What?"

JJ finally spoke up, his voice defensive, almost combative. "I had to! Topper needed to be shown who's in charge. He wasn't going to stop—he doesn't stop! Someone had to do something!"

"You pulled a gun?" Olivine's voice rose, disbelief and fury flooding her tone. "Are you insane? You could've gotten someone killed!"

JJ threw his hands up, frustration boiling over. "What was I supposed to do? Just let him keep pounding on John B? You weren't there, Olivine! You didn't see what he did!"

"No, I didn't," she said, her voice colder now, "but I know there were about a thousand other ways you could've handled that situation without pulling a gun."

JJ scoffed, his temper flaring. "You don't get it. Guys like Topper only understand one thing—power. You have to show them you're not afraid. Otherwise, they'll walk all over you."

"That's not power, JJ! That's recklessness!" Olivine shot back. "You're lucky the cops weren't there. You're lucky no one died!"

"Don't act like you know what it's like," JJ snapped, his voice sharp and bitter. "You don't get it. You don't get me."

Olivine felt her anger flare hotter. "What I don't get is how you thought pulling a gun was the solution! Where even is it? How did you get one in the first place?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and pointed.

Everyone went silent.

Pope shifted uncomfortably, lowering his hands to look at her, but he didn't speak. Kiara's mouth opened slightly, but she quickly shut it again. John B winced, glancing down at his feet.

Olivine looked back at JJ, her arms crossed. "Well?"

JJ swallowed hard, his lips pressing into a thin line as he avoided her gaze.

"You can't even answer me, can you?" she said, her voice quieter but no less angry. "Unbelievable. You're playing with fire, JJ, and you're dragging everyone else down with you."

JJ finally looked at her, his eyes burning with frustration and something else—something closer to shame. But he didn't say a word.

Olivine let out a harsh breath and turned back to Kiara. "We're leaving. Now."

Kiara nodded and motioned for the others to follow.

As they climbed into Olivine's car, the air was thick with tension. JJ sat in the backseat, staring out the window, while John B slumped against the other side, exhaustion etched into his bruised face. Pope sat in the middle, quiet as ever, and Kiara rode up front, fiddling with her phone but saying nothing.

Olivine gripped the steering wheel tightly, her mind racing. Whatever this mess was, it was far from over.

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The Wreck was unusually quiet as Olivine sat at the table, calmly eating her plate of bacon and onion rings. Across from her, John B, JJ, Kiara, and Pope all sat in various states of discomfort, avoiding her gaze like scolded children. The tension was suffocating, and the smell of fried food wasn't enough to cut through it.

Olivine's sharp eyes flickered between them as she chewed thoughtfully, her silence more damning than any words she could've spoken. She wasn't in the mood to lecture—yet. She was waiting for someone to break.

John B finally cleared his throat, the sound startling in the quiet. He fidgeted under Olivine's gaze before trying to break the ice with a nervous grin. "You know, Olivine, with the way you're glaring at me, I feel like I should ask if I'm paying for your food or something."

Olivine didn't laugh. She didn't even crack a smile. She just stared at him, her glare so piercing that John B winced, his attempt at a joke dying a painful death. He slouched back into his seat, muttering, "Okay, not my best work."

The silence stretched on until JJ, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, finally spoke up.

"We found the gun after the storm," he said flatly, his tone defensive already.

Olivine arched a brow, gesturing for him to elaborate as she picked up another onion ring.

JJ sighed, clearly reluctant but knowing he didn't have much of a choice. "At that sketchy motel. You know, the one on the Cut? After Hurricane Agatha, we were checking out the damage, and we found it there. Near the boat—Scooter's boat."

"Scooter?" Olivine repeated, setting her food down.

"We think he's dead," JJ continued, his voice lowering slightly. "His boat's trashed. We talked to his wife—"

"Wait." Olivine held up a hand, silencing him. She leaned forward, her intense gaze locking onto his. "You're telling me you found a gun, think someone's dead, and your first instinct is to carry that thing around like it's a toy?"

JJ shrugged, his nonchalance infuriating. "We didn't exactly have a manual for what to do, Liv."

Her jaw tightened, and she leaned back, crossing her arms. "You need to get rid of it."

JJ snorted, leaning forward now to meet her eyes, his tone dripping with defiance. "And why would I do that?"

"Because," Olivine said slowly, emphasizing each word, "you're not just any minor with a weapon—you're a pogue. You think Topper won't press charges if he feels like it? He'll drag the whole Cut into court just to make a point. And when they're done tearing you apart, your whole family—" she gestured around the group— "will be in the crosshairs too."

"Topper's a pussy," JJ shot back, waving her off. "He's not going to do anything."

Olivine let out a frustrated sigh and picked up one of her fries, throwing it directly at JJ. It hit him square on the chest, and he blinked, startled.

"Grow up, JJ," she snapped, though there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "This isn't a joke."

JJ smirked back, brushing the fry off his shirt. "You missed, ballerina."

Olivine rolled her eyes, picking up another fry as if daring him to challenge her again. The rest of the group exchanged uncertain glances, a faint flicker of amusement breaking the tension.

Pope finally spoke up, his voice quiet but steady. "She's right, JJ. This could get really bad for all of us."

JJ's smirk faltered, and he looked away, his jaw clenching as the reality of the situation started to settle in.

Olivine nodded, pleased that someone had some sense. "Good. Now, figure out how to get rid of it. Safely. No more Topper, no more guns, no more stupid decisions. Got it?"

JJ muttered something under his breath but didn't argue further.

As the group fell into a contemplative silence, Olivine picked up her plate, standing to leave. "I swear, if I hear about any more guns, fights, or Topper, I'm locking you all in a room until you figure out how to be functional human beings. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," John B said weakly, rubbing his bruised jaw.

With that, Olivine grabbed her to-go bag, tossing her empty plate into the trash on the way out. The group stayed behind, their quiet chatter resuming now that the storm—Olivine—had passed.

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The drive to the Cameron Estate was a study in contrasts, and Olivine couldn't help but notice the stark transition as she crossed from the Cut to Figure Eight. On one side, the aftermath of the storm was glaring—abandoned houses with boarded windows, trees ripped from their roots, and roads cracked and littered with debris. But as she moved closer to the wealthier part of the island, the destruction was muted. The houses were weathered but intact, the roads mostly cleared, and the scars left by the storm were quickly being patched up.

Pulling into the long driveway of the Cameron Estate, she parked just beyond the line of workers busy repairing the damage. A team of gardeners hauled branches into trucks while others replaced overturned pots and swept debris from the walkways. She caught sight of Ward Cameron in the middle of the yard, rolling up his sleeves as he helped one of the men lift a heavy, uprooted tree into the back of a pickup truck.

When Ward spotted her, he dusted his hands off and jogged over, his expression warm and fatherly.

"Olivine, good to see you," he greeted, offering her a friendly smile. "Everything okay back at home? Did the storm hit you all hard?"

She smiled politely, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. "We're okay, Mr. Cameron. The restaurant needs some cleanup, but nothing too serious. We got lucky."

Ward nodded, his expression shifting to one of quiet relief. "Good, good. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, alright?" He gestured toward the back of the house. "Wheezie's out there with Sarah. Just head on back."

"Thanks," she said with a small nod before making her way through the side gate toward the backyard.

The garden, which she knew had been lush and meticulously maintained, was now a mess of toppled flowers, cracked stone paths, and broken trellises. Wheezie sat on the porch steps, watching Sarah try to retrieve a stuffed toy for one of the neighbors. The toy had gotten tangled near a patch of uncut, exposed wires—left dangerously unattended after the storm.

Olivine slowed her steps, her gaze flicking to the wires nervously, but Wheezie seemed unfazed, sipping on her juice box while Sarah maneuvered closer to the stuffed bear.

From across the yard, ocean-blue eyes caught on her.

Rafe was leaning against the frame of the side door, his expression unreadable as he observed Olivine's arrival. For a moment, he didn't move, just watched her with the same intensity he always seemed to carry. She missed it entirely, her attention focused on Sarah, who had just reached the toy.

As Sarah finally freed the stuffed bear, she stumbled backward dramatically, landing perilously close to the wires. Topper and Rose both screamed at once—Topper with genuine panic, Rose with irritation—but Sarah only sat up with a bright smile, waving the toy in the air triumphantly as if she hadn't just risked electrocution.

Rafe rolled his eyes, muttering something to himself about her theatrics. Meanwhile, Topper ran over to Sarah, fretting as she handed the toy back to the little girl.

Rose, entirely unimpressed by the commotion, turned toward the house and spotted Olivine near the entrance. "Ah, Olivine," she greeted with a knowing smile, her glass of wine spinning lazily in her hand. "You made it."

Before Olivine could respond, Wheezie sprang to her feet, her face lighting up as she saw her. "Olivine!" she called, waving animatedly. Skipping over, she grabbed Olivine's arm with a grin. "Come on, let's get started."

Olivine smiled, letting Wheezie tug her toward the house, though her eyes briefly flickered back to the backyard. Rafe was still standing there, now talking quietly to Kelce, his expression sharp and unreadable as his gaze trailed after her retreating figure.

She didn't look back again. Instead, she let Wheezie's enthusiasm guide her into the house, her focus shifting back to the task at hand. But even as she set up for the tutoring session, the tension in the air from outside seemed to follow her, lingering like an unspoken question waiting to be answered.

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Olivine hummed softly as she made her way downstairs, the faint sound of Wheezie's giggles trailing behind her. She figured a snack break would help refocus Wheezie, who had started fidgeting halfway through their session.

The Cameron kitchen was spotless, the kind of polished elegance that made her nervous every time she used it. Opening the cupboard, she searched for something simple. A bag of popcorn caught her eye. She grabbed it and turned toward the fridge to fetch juice and some fruit, closing the cupboard door behind her.

She startled when she turned back around.

"Rafe?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and something softer.

He was leaning against the counter, a casual smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. "Expecting someone else?"

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You know, a little warning would've been nice. What are you doing here?"

"Pretty sure this is my house," he replied with a mock-serious tone, stepping toward her.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Fair enough. I'm just making snacks for Wheezie and me. Want something?"

His smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by mild surprise. "You're offering me food now?"

"Consider it me being civil," she teased, setting the popcorn bag on the counter.

He stepped closer, leaning on the counter beside her. "What are you making?"

"Nothing fancy." She reached up to grab plates from the cabinet, the movement causing her sundress to shift slightly. The baby blue fabric hugged her figure perfectly, flowing down just enough to catch Rafe's attention. He bit his lip, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease.

"You're really getting the hang of this place," he commented.

She looked over her shoulder, catching his gaze. "It's just a kitchen, Rafe. Nothing to 'get the hang of.'"

He shrugged, his smirk returning. "Still. You look like you belong here."

Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she quickly busied herself slicing fruit. "Are you always this smooth, or am I just special?"

"Definitely just you," he quipped, his tone teasing.

She laughed again, softer this time. "Sure."

He watched her in silence for a moment, the way her hands moved as she worked, the way the sunlight from the window caught the highlights in her hair. It was peaceful in a way he wasn't used to, just watching her.

"When's your next shift at the club?" he asked, breaking the quiet.

"Tomorrow evening," she said without looking up. "Why? Thinking of visiting?"

"Maybe," he said lightly. Then, after a pause, "Are you going to Becky's party on Saturday?"

She hesitated, glancing at him briefly before returning to her task. "I'm not sure yet. Why?"

"Just wondering," he said, his tone casual, but there was something more in his eyes.

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "I didn't think parties like that were your scene anymore."

"Maybe they aren't," he replied, holding her gaze. "But I figured you might be there."

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she shook her head. "I'll think about it."

Rafe nodded, stepping back slightly as she finished arranging everything on a tray. "Need help carrying that?" he offered.

"I've got it," she said, balancing the glasses and plates with ease. As she started for the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder. "Thanks, though."

He watched her go, the small smile on her face lingering in his mind. For once, he didn't have a sharp remark or a teasing comment to fire back. Instead, he stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, replaying the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile in his head long after she was gone.

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KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!!

here's another one, i'm popping these chapters like no man's business

word count : 3.0k

ENJOY !!!

xoxoxo
kiki