prologue

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"And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August slipped away like a bottle of wine
'Cause you were never mine."

August | Taylor Swift.

Summer had been cruel.

One moment Olivia had been delirious on feelings she couldn't even begin to comprehend, then the next it had slipped away, leaving her absolutely crestfallen. Back then, this had been nothing more than teenage problems. Yet, at the time, it had felt quite close to the end of the world.

In the end, Olivia was left with the echoing question: why...why...why...?

One question; multiple meanings.

Why did it end?

Why wasn't she good enough?

Why did she let herself slip into feelings?

Why did she even bother?

Why had she expected something to come from it?

But every story had a beginning, of course. This one had started at the peak of summer with the crescent moon shining down upon Olivia, accompanied by a dozen of stars. Olivia was drunk, and when she was drunk, she attended to appreciate the small things in life.

Right now, the moon and stars were on her mind.

That's when he appeared: standing over Olivia with his bright blue eyes glowing with amusement and his blonde hair creating a halo around his head. At that moment, JJ Maybank — her cousin's best friend — reminded Olivia of a lion with a golden mane.

"Sup, little Routledge," he smiled crookedly. "What's happening? Pope thought you had crashed. Do we have to call John B to come to get you?"

Olivia frowned at that, glaring up at the teenage boy.

"Shut up," she told him, though it came out slurred. "And lay down."

"Yes, Ma'am," JJ replied.

Firstly, and most importantly, he stood his beer bottle up in the sand, making sure it was sturdy. Then, he laid down next to Olivia, who hadn't removed her eyes from the sky. JJ's face searched the sky as if he was looking for answers before turning to look at Olivia.

"Am I missing something?" JJ questioned.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Look," she pointed up at the sky, smiling lazily at the moon. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I guess so?" JJ screwed up his face. "How much have you drunk? Or smoked?"

"No idea," she told him.

August | JJ Maybank Where stories live. Discover now