046 !! EXILE
"You report to me and me only. I'm sat there by the car, Layla here will be supervising you throughout. If you run off or lag behind, it will be noted. These records will be directly sent to the Head Examiner so might as well take it seriously".
The shrewd eyed woman — Miss Goldstein — ladens every individual with a hard glance, her dark blue eyes looking right through their souls with an angering intensity.
She nods, waving her clipboard in the direction of the beach, "Off you go then".
Georgie separates herself from the mumbling crowd of twenty or so high schoolers, all belonging to the the local high school, and silently trudges down the sloping sand, a gigantic yet empty blue trash bag in hand.
She pulls her cap down against the glowering sun and sighs picking up one of the worn down grabbers from the immense pile nearby and shuffles towards the discarded litter dotting the sandy surface.
Wordlessly, she begins picking up individual pieces of trash — all of them ranging from plastic bags to beer cans to empty ice cream cups — her mind remaining concentrated on the task at hand.
She loves the island, sure. She loves the environment too — she has, after all, accompanied Kiara on one of her many ecological expeditions across Kildare — but what she does today is not by choice.
Two days ago, every student of 'Kildare County High' had received an email detailing a list of students who'd failed to meet up to the minimum attendance requirements the previous year and the Dean, in the email, had suggested a few extra-curriculars to gain extra credit for their senior year just to be on the safer side of things; so that if such a "situation" were to occur again during their last high school year they could use these credits to graduate.
Sounds simple enough in theory until you actually take a look at the list of activities and realise that some of them are basically unpaid part-time jobs which for someone in Georgie's position only equals to stress.
Disastrous levels of stress.
Thankfully, her attendance — thanks to her incredible father who couldn't be bothered to work a day in his life — was just short of a week of school. She'd lost an entire week of learning threaded here and there throughout the academic year to work extra shifts at The Wreck just so they had enough money for basic rationing.
Her situation isn't ideal but a simple talk with the school counsellor had helped clear things up enough to make a proper schedule to add in two extra-curricular activities — mandatory beach cleaning every fortnight for two months and a week at the Country Club's cashier's desk.
And now, she's been put up to work against her will when all she really wants to do is take a long nap.
Sweat accumulates over her brow, her eyes burning due to the harsh sunlight reflecting off the water surface, gloved hands shoving the grabber around to catch and throw the trash into the bag clutched between the fingers of her left hand.
She purses her lips stabbing at a particularly errant piece of paper refusing to give up and just slide down into the blue bag.
A frustrated sigh leaves her lips as she bends down to pick up the paper and mercilessly throws it into the confines of the bag.
She steps forward feeling footsteps dip into the sand close to her, a sudden urge to turn and yell at the stranger to leave this side of the beach to her taking over.
She breathes him in even before his obnoxiously white tennis shoes come into view, the scent of his irritatingly fresh cologne wafting off her senses as he gets closer, her breath simultaneously hitching in her throat.
She keeps her eyes downcast paradoxically as his shoes appear in front of her, his perfectly sculptured light tanned calves gracing her eyes with their appearance.
Georgie waits for a beat, gaze fixed to his shoes, hoping for him to get the hint and move away.
He obviously doesn't.
"Get out of my way", she mumbles loud enough for him to hear.
A sharp intake of breath and then . . .
"Can we please talk? Please. I'm ready to beg".
She blinks assessing the sand particles underneath their feet.
"I said get out of my way".
He steps closer and she shrinks backwards stilling him in place, the trash bag dangling from her hand.
"Georgie, please".
"No".
"Please. Just look at me".
The desperation in his voice is enough to falter her composure, her eyes slowly running over him all the way up to those damned sapphire eyes of his staring at her with so much unmasked emotion that she's almost taken aback by surprise.
His hair hangs low on his forehead — He needs a haircut, she foolishly thinks — mouth parted as he looks back, concentrated and determined.
She feels stupid to think his lips look inviting enough for her to push hers right against them and feel the softness as he swallows her breaths and she melts into his arms.
Snap out of it.
"This is for school. I can't afford to waste time", she quietly admits waiting for him to understand and walk away.
But he's Rafe Cameron so again, he obviously doesn't.
"That's fine. I can walk with you".
"I don't think that's allowed", frankly speaking, Georgie has no idea what's allowed and what isn't. She just needs him to leave. Now.
"Miss Goldstein loves me. I'm sure she won't mind", he presses his lips together.
Her gaze immediately falls to his lips and she regrets it instantly because . . . . god fucking dammit, he's irresistible.
"Just move", she glares stabbing his shoe with the dirty grabber startling him as he jumps to the side scowling at her.
Unconcerned, she steps forward continuing to stash the waste into the bag and ignoring him whilst she moves around the area.
Though he's hot on her heels.
"You don't even have to talk, just let me speak", he falls into step beside her, his long legs benefitting him in his peculiar urge to keep up with her.
She frowns at the ground, "There are people here. They can't see us together".
"I don't care if they see me with you".
Momentarily stopping her pacing, she throws a sharp glance at him.
"Well, I do. I don't want to be seen with you".
His jaw clenches, eyes straying away from hers and she takes the moment of silence to stomp away.
Rafe recovers quickly scurring behind her, "Just listen to me, alright?".
Georgie keeps her mouth shut — it seems the more she resists the more anxious he gets and the more anxious he gets, the more determined he becomes which is definitely a cause for concern when she wants nothing to do with him.
Liar, her inner devil whispers mischievously but she shrugs it off, annoyed.
He breathes in, "I know what I did was . . . fucked up and I know it wasn't exactly 'right' but I'm not going to apologise for it. I saved my dad's life and that's all that matters".
She restrains herself from grounding to a halt.
"You're joking, right? You killed Peterkin", she whispers harshly though she's not sure why she's whispering.
She could yell at him, throw her accusations out in front of everyone and it wouldn't matter because it's the truth. She'd hurt him, humiliate him and he'd finally get what he deserves.
Then why the fuck is she whispering?
Another deep breath, "I know. As I said, it's fucked up but she was gonna kill him, Georgie. You have to understand that. I saved him, there was nothing else I could do. I didn't mean to", he lowers his voice further, "you know, hurt her that badly. It just happened, I just meant to injure her".
She furrows her brows, "She was arresting him, Rafe. You've got it all wrong".
He lets out an exaggerated sigh, his hand unintentionally brushing against her bare arm sending shivers down her spine despite the humid weather.
A shallow pit of wanting takes shape inside of her threatening to consume her and force her to adapt the devil's ways.
No. Get a hold of yourself.
"And who told you that, huh? John B?".
The sound of John B's name uttered so bitterly leaves her perturbed, her hand fisting around the trash bag.
He's the same bitter Rafe Cameron who has haunted the streets of Outer Banks since ages, he is the same devilish reflection of everything evil and truly daunting.
He is not the Rafe she let touch her. He is not the Rafe she let in so fortuitously.
She chances him a glance only to find his gaze already trained on her smugly waiting for a reply.
Asshole.
"You think you're so above it all but guess what? At the end of the day, you're still the person who took multiple lives. Yes, multiple. You shot Peterkin but John B and Sarah are dead because of you. Your own sister, are you happy with that? Doesn't that bother you at all?".
He blinks, mouth faltering into a small frown — her outburst seems to have come as a surprise.
Georgie stops walking, Rafe doing the same.
She laughs bitterly at his loss of words, "Don't have anything to say anymore, do you? People haven't been honest with you, Rafe. But I am not people. I'm not going to stand here and console you when your actions have completely destroyed me".
He gulps, her own throat closing up as the words spill out now, uncontrollably.
"Maybe Peterkin really was going to kill Ward, maybe John B and Sarah dying was just a misfortune. But pray tell", she steps towards him, his breath going awry at the proximity, "what you were choking Kiara for that day".
He only stares back, quiet and solemn. His eyes have dimmed, fogged up slightly and looking into them now she sees it.
He's broken terribly and unless he takes the dagger out himself, there is no saving him.
No response awaits her, she knows that. It's evident even in the way he continues looking as if he's deciphering her right then and there — attempting to look past her soul and appeal to the shadowed fragment of her bruised heart that still echoes his name.
She steps back, exhaling and swallowing the aching lump in her throat.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do".
She leaves him there standing dumbfounded and he does not follow.
She's seen him out to his fated exile and there is no amount of crying she can do for him, not anymore.
***
georgie is such a girlboss