Emerald Isle

One. pace yourself

-Author's note: okokok I think harry fanfic might be dead now (i know bts fanfic is really popular lol) but I need to regress back into like the 2014-2015 fanfic days, where everyone was obsessed with Dark Harry or frat boy harry. I cannot condone his crack out on the yacht with Olivia widle rn. I do not see. - 

Now. 

I forget about him as soon as I drive by. His tanned skin and dark hair are commonplace at the beach, and I knew I'd see hundreds just like him in the summer crowds. I want to feel alive again. A friend of a friend said the house would be empty and passed us a key. Or a copy of a copy of the key. It felt like enough permission. The three of us are from the midwest, but we can blend in anywhere with soft smiles and wavy hair. The key is to not be too much of anything. Our makeup is light but strategic, our hair isn't too straight or too curly. We fit into every category. Unfortunately, we are here for a reason, and that reason is not vacation. 

When I lay in the sand, eyes screwed shut against the harsh June sun, I can pretend I am normal and safe and happy. I am 21 years old, and I am being blackmailed. Sometimes the salt in the air hurts to breathe, but it reminds me that I am still alive. The three of us are determined to get our lives back. Mia is sharp and a spectacular driver. Before, she was a gifted swimmer, on the brink of a full scholarship. Sophie is not academically driven or physically driven, and she is our wild card. She is adrenaline driven. I am driven by one thing only; redemption. I shed my former suburban life when I was 17. I don't know what I would've gone on to do or become because I didn't have time before it was swept away in a catastrophic disaster. When all of this is over, the three of us might have to go our separate ways to start over. 

The house we are staying at looks like all of the other houses in the neighborhood. Its white and wind whipped, with wood steps and two stories. It faces the beach, shockingly empty white sand sprawling out until it grazes the water. We each claim one of the three bedrooms; two upstairs and one downstairs. Mia and I agree that she will take the one downstairs, and I will keep an eye on Sophie upstairs. The bedroom I unpack into feels innocent. Everything is white and soft. The sheets are crisp, and the curtains idly drift apart in the balmy summer breeze. It feels safe. 

My hands shake as I unpack the stacks of my clothes into the dressers. The dresses are beautiful, things I could have never afforded myself. Tears sting my eyes as I pull a small envelope from the bottom of my luggage and peel open the crinkled paper. I have looked over the contents a thousand times, but it never gets more palatable. Inside is a single photo and information scrawled on the back. The person in the photo is a complete stranger, but someone I have to get to know. He is 23, and I'm sure he has family. He lives just down the road. His innocent and youthful smile in the photo doesn't give the proper context to the situation. He is a member of a very bad ring, and I am his equally bad counterpart. I am here to ruin his life. Mia and Sophie have photos as well, people they have to ruin to redeem themselves. Truthfully, there is no winning when you're involved in things like these. I didn't mean to get involved, I was only trying to put on a tough exterior to impress an older boyfriend. I got caught up in things I didn't understand. 

_____________________

I see the boy from the steps again at a house party that very next night. The previous night was very somber, stark contrast to the one that is playing out before us now. The three of us sat in silence, unsure how we would be able to actually succeed in what we came to do. Men play tough games, and run tough jobs. Truthfully, the three of us were decoys, barely a step up from prostitutes. We're supposed to do the one job that men can't do; access their emotions, get them weak, dismantle from the inside out. Although I don't know him, I'm thankful that he isn't the man in any of our photos because he seems kind but unimpressed. My look is curated to appeal to the majority of men, which means subtle but fuckable. The three of us have to split up, powerful men often keep to themselves. My objective brings me down the beach a few houses away from our own, and a message from an unsaved number on my phone provides me with an address. I find myself at a sprawling yellow house nestled into dunes of sand.