𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 06.

━ 𝗽𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲𝘀.

"𝐍𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 going to happen." I immediately declared, shaking my head.

He stood outside the window, the childish grin still pulling at his lips. Through the slightly dirty glass, I could see him wearing an orange-cream coloured button-down shirt, only two buttons done as usual, and a worn out cloth piece around his neck.

"You don't even know what I'm gonna ask," he protested right away, as I stood up from the chair.

I closed the blinds in a sharp motion. "I don't care," I blatantly stated, talking loud so he could hear me. "And I'm not listening." I pretended to not listen, as I turned my back.

The blinds didn't do much work, since they were too thin and didn't hide anything.

"Look— I need your help," he continued to speak, trying to sound desperate, "Just let me in the window, it'll take two seconds, I promise."

"You're demented if you think I'm going to let a stranger into my grandparent's house," I responded, speaking with an annoyed tone, "Especially the one who abducted me."

"Thought you weren't listening, huh?" He laughed sarcastically, "And we're not strangers."

"Please go away," I voiced, pretending to fold the quilt on my bed.

"No can do, Cherry Cola," He said indisputably.

"I'll call the cops," I only twisted my head around a few inches, enough to see his face contort into an even dumber look.

"And tell them what," he lowered his eyebrows at me. "A mere acquaintance stood outside your window, kindly asking for help, huh,"

"Okay, whatever," I spat. I wanted to say his name, but then he'd think that I asked my grandparents about him, since he never told me.

"Look, I know you hate me and everything— which I don't know why— but I practically saved your ass last night in the hurricane," he stated, his voice somewhat muffled through the glass, "Don't deny it."

"I don't have to repay you for that," I fully turned myself around, facing the window, "because I didn't agree to it in the first place." I could see him through the spaces between the slim blinds.

"That's not how it works, sweetheart." A smirk pulled at the side of his mouth.

I rolled my eyes, hard.

"I save your ass, you save mine. Then we're done, and you don't have to look at my face ever again," he told me, leaning a hand on the window sill from outside. "Your grandparents aren't even home anyways." he shrugged.

Rolling my eyes again, I took the step separating me and the window. Pulling up the blinds roughly, I pinned my eyes on him.

"You have five minutes." I said, with a serious tone, before gripping on the handle to open the window.

When it opened, he stopped to look at me. I widened my eyes sarcastically and motioned for him to climb in, and he smiled.

His eyes twinkled as his straight rows of teeth poked through his grin, and for a second, I didn't dislike him. For a second, I thought he was really cute. But then, the second his feet hit the floor, I was reminded that he was a troublesome teenager that drives a dirty brown van, now invading my grandparents' home.

I stepped out of the way when he jumped onto the ground, his dirty sneakers creaking on the wood. I looked up at him as he stayed in place, realizing how tall he was. With the hair sitting up on his head, he was probably about a foot taller, and loomed over me. We were standing in front of my window, a few steps away from each other.

"That is quite the look," he glanced down at the overalls on me, that sagged to the floor.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, and ignored, "I can't believe I'm letting a rando into my home," I let out a breath, "Which isn't even mine." I crossed my arms over my chest, roughly. "And how did you know this was my room?" I already knew how he found the house, because of his friend Pope.

"Relax, Cherry Cola, I'm not dangerous," he shrugged, laughing lightly. "I figured your room was the one with the yellow walls and pink throw pillows, no?"

"I told you to stop calling me that," I ordered, sounding annoyed. I turned away and looked to my closet, walking towards it.

"Well, it doesn't help that you won't tell me your real name," he fired back, following me, "Now does it, Cherry Cola." he said the nickname with a different tone, specifically meant to annoy me further.

I huffed out, closing my eyes in a hard blink. "Tell me yours, then." I acted like I didn't know it already.

"You don't know my name?" He asked, sounding curious.

"No, I don't know your name," I responded, tired that we were still talking. I turned my head to look at him. He had followed me over to the closet, and stood at the side of my bed.

"I didn't mention it when I picked you up yesterday?" He scratched his head.

"No, as I remember it, you simply shoved my bike into your sketchy van and told me to sit." I turned around to face him, crossing my arms again.

"Wow," he sat down on my bed, looking bewildered, "Excuse my manners, miss."

I pursed my lips together, knowing that he was about to call me 'Cherry Cola' again, but caught himself.

"My name is John B," he stated, nodding once, before smiling lightly. "Stands for John Booker Routledge, if you're wondering." He struck a hand out to me.

"Charlotte," I told him in response, making eye contact, "My name is Charlotte Collins," I said, figuring I should say my full name since he did. I tried not to make it sound so cliche.

I shook his hand.

"That's a pretty name," he smiled, sounding genuine, "I like it, Charlotte."

I found myself laughing softly which a surprise. I looked to the floor as I turned around, pulling off the straps of the oversized overalls.

"Woah there," He exclaimed, loudly, "You can't just take off your pants like that!"

"Calm down, idiot," I exclaimed in response, glancing back at him before the overalls fell off my legs. "I have shorts on."

He looked down to my legs, sighing in relief.

"By the way," I folded up the overalls and placed them on the shelf. "You're down to two minutes before I kick you out of this house."

"That doesn't count, you were talking to me," John B put a finger up, speaking with a casual tone.

"Okay then," I rolled my eyes, closing the closet and turning around. "Speak."

"I need your help with getting into your grandpa's motel," he shot, looking up at me from sitting on the bed.

"What?" I exclaimed, my eyebrows narrowing hard.

"I need you to find his keys or something," he said, folding his hands together on his legs. "I need to get into a room."

"Why do you need to have the keys?" I asked, defensive.

"I can't really tell you why," he said, biting the inside of his cheek, "at least not right now."

"That's sketchy, and I'm not doing it." I claimed, serious.

"Please," his voice turned pleading, and his eyes somewhat softened, "This is really important," he lowered his tone. "It's my mom's room, and I need to get in there,"

"My grandpa's already at the motel right now, he probably has his keys with him," I said, shrugging my shoulders carelessly.

"They always have two or more sets," John B claimed, sounding sure.

I narrowed my eyes, looking at him, fed up and as if he were dumb. "Of every room key." I said.

"Duh, why would they only have one? Come on, Cherry Cola, get with the program." he waved his hand in the air, as if swatting away a bug.

"I don't know where he'd put them, and your time is up." I told him, "Scoot," I motioned to the window with my hand.

"No, that's not fair," John B stood up, immediately looming over me. "I basically saved your life last night."

"Bold of you to assume that I was too weak to bike in strong winds, John B." I crossed my arms.

"Nobody would have survived that shit," he stated, taking a step towards me, "So in return of saving your ass, I'd like a thank you, but in the form of keys. If you know what I mean," he ordered, turning away from me and looking at the things on my bedside table.

"I would've gotten home without your help," I spat out, before walking past him and out the door. My strides were powerful as I marched into the open kitchen. His footsteps followed behind me on the wood.

The sun was brightly shining through every window, making it hard for me to adjust my eyes. But when they did adjust, I immediately noticed the famous dirty brown van parked on my front lawn, and the three teenagers inside of it. I instantly recognized them as the three teenagers I'd seen John B running from security with, on my first day on the island. His friend Pope sat in the passenger seat.

"This is a nice painting, Cherry Cola," John B exclaimed with a sense of awe, as he stopped and pointed to the portrait on the main wall. "You paint it yourself?"

"You brought your friends here?" I asked him, turning.

"They're staying in the van, don't worry bout' it," He shrugged, now looking to the vases and pots on top of the small cabinet. He picked one up, looking at it closely.

"What are you guys plotting? To rob my grandpa's motel?" I sharply narrowed my eyebrows. "I would come up with a much more elaborate plan than this."

"No!" He defended himself. "You think I look like a criminal?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I barely know who you are."

"Gotta say, I'm just a tad bit offended by that," he scrunched up his face.

I rolled my eyes, before looking away from him and stepping towards some of the shelves near the couch. I shuffled through the items on it carefully, looking for a ring of keys. It hurt to say that he was right, that he, in fact, did "save" me from getting sucked up by the hurricane. I felt guilty for being so rude to him, and not really thanking him for helping me get home. So, I found myself helping him in return.

Having no luck with the shelf, I looked up to the next cabinet. It was tall and antique, and it's cupboards were too far up for me to reach. So, I quickly grabbed the end of the coffee table, dragged it over, and stepped on top of it. There was many things in the shelves, old papers, newspaper pieces, pictures, frames, small glass cups, pens, and pencils scattered everywhere. The inside of it smelled like an old book.

John B was searching through the smaller cabinet, the one with all the handmade pots and vases on it, without asking. Somehow I didn't mind though, because he wasn't really touching anything, just simply looking. I glanced to him only for a second, before looking back up into the shelves. On the very top, and at the very back of the cupboard, there was an old, rusty key ring with dozens of keys attached to it.

Just as I was about to call John B's name and ask him to help reach them, I heard the van doors close suddenly, followed by voices.

"What the fuck is taking him so long," It was Pope talking, "There's supposed to be no one home except for that girl."

"They're probably makin' out," a teenage boy-voice responded, laughing.

"Jj," a girl voice scolded the other boy.

Then the screen door opened, and there was the three other teenagers, John B's friends. Pope came in first, then the boy with blonde hair, and then the girl with caramel skin. They stood in the entrance of my grandparent's home, unaware. I looked to John B with an angry look growing on my face.

"Who is she?" The blonde boy took his hands out of his pockets and stared at me, his facial expression in awe.

"That's the girl John B made us stop for last night," Pope told him, side-eyeing me.

"You didn't tell me she was pretty," the blonde said, sounding offended.

I stood on the coffee table with a weird look, reaching up into the cabinet.

"I told you to stay in the van." John B said awkwardly, taking a step towards his friends.

"I don't wanna stay in the van anymore," the blonde boy didn't look at John B, and rather kept his eyes on me, looking at me as if I were a million dollars.

"Shut it Jj," the girl slapped his stomach with the back of her hand.

"You didn't tell me you were mackin' a Kook," the boy, named Jj, didn't look away from me, causing me to slightly grow uncomfortable. "You also didn't tell me she was so hot-"

The girl smacked him again, this time harder. He stopped talking and looked to the floor.

"I'm not mackin' her Jj, and she's not a Kook!" John B declared.

"She looks like one," Pope entered the conversation, looking at me from head to toe.

"She does look like one," the girl added, looking from me to John B.

"Kie would know," Pope said.

"We're on the cut, morons," John B said, as if it were obvious. "Kooks don't live here!"

I watched their chaotic energy spill, before I stepped off the coffee table.

"Excuse me— I'm sorry, but what is a Kook?" I interjected, causing all of them to look at me. I was nervous standing in front of that many people, and speaking so fluently.

"Dude, even her voice is hot," the blonde boy stared at me, metaphorically drooling.

"Would you stop," the girl hit his arm, "You're making her visibly uncomfortable."

"You don't know?" Pope asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Know what?" I asked, looking at all of them cautiously. I felt uncomfortable just standing there in front of them while they talked about me.

"She's definitely not from here," the girl, Kie, looked to the ground. Her voice was soft, and she didn't mean it rudely, I could tell.

"Hi, I'm Jj," the blonde boy took a few steps towards me, reaching out his hand. "I'm a Kook-"

Pope grabbed his arm and yanked him back into place, in front of the door.

"It's," John B started, but stopped to rub his forehead. "A long story." He referred to my question.

I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for a response.

"We're Pogues," he continued, glancing to his friends, "Basically, if you need to know now— in a nutshell, Kooks are the rich people who live in those beach houses, and we're well," he stopped.

"Not so rich," Pope finished off. "Pogues live on the cut."

"What the fuck is a 'Pogue', you guys like drug dealers or something?" I looked to each one of them, my eyebrows sharply narrowed.

"Where are you from?" The girl asked me, her hands placed on her hips.

"No, we're not drug dealers," John B responded, glancing to the girl and silently telling her to keep quiet with his eyes.

"You guys in a gang? Or..." I questioned, wanting to hear an answer. "Cult?"

"Dude, I think we should just leave," Pope looked to John B.

"I'm staying," Jj declared. Kie rolled her eyes.

"Look, I don't feel safe having four strangers invade my house like this." I specifically looked at John B, since it was his fault.

"That's our cue," Pope nodded, turning away to walk out the door, before the blonde stopped him.

"We're not dangerous people, I promise," John B exclaimed, defending himself.

"I don't trust that one bit," I crossed my arms harder, shifting my weight between feet, my eyes locked with his.

"Guys, go wait in the van," John B kept eye contact with me.

"What? You gonna kill her now or something?" The girl said.

"Just—" John B rubbed his forehead, "go, please."

"You want my number before we leave," Jj tried to step closer to me, but Pope grabbed him and dragged him out the door.

I watched the three teenagers step down my porch stairs, and settle into their van. The weird blonde boy sat in the passenger seat now, and looked through the screen door.

"Sorry for that," John B looked to me, slowly taking a few steps. "Look, you don't have to help us anymore, I'll leave if you want me to."

I could tell that he meant it, as he uncomfortably shoved his hands into his shorts' pockets.

"No," I stopped him with my voice, "You're gonna tell me everything about this island."

"Right here?" He quickly responded, looking around with a confused expression, "Now?"

"No, silly," I scoffed, before turning around and hopping back on the coffee table. Turning to the tall cabinet, I jumped once, miraculously gripping my fingers around the heavy key ring, then pulling it down with me. There was a sticker on the key ring that had my grandfather's name on it. I hopped off the coffee table and walked up to John B, who was watching me with an odd look.

He shifted his eyes up to my face when I let the keys fall into his hand. We were standing a mere foot away from one another, and I could smell his scent.

"You're going to tell me on the way there." I claimed, my voice only a bit higher than a whisper. My lips turned up into a sweet smile, meaning it sarcastically and with sass. I then ignored his expression and turned away from him, stepping towards the front door, knowing he'd get mad. "Let's go, no time to waste."

"I didn't say you were allowed to come with me," John B called out, his voice raspy and angry.

I swivelled my head around and smiled bitterly at him, "And I didn't say I was going to let you use my grandpa's keys unsupervised."

༄

𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭!