The Outer Banks, Paradise on earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. It's a place of golden sands, turquoise waves, and an invisible line dividing the town's haves and have-nots. On one side, the Kooks—polished, privileged, and wealthy. On the other, the Pogues—gritty, resourceful, and united by the shared weight of their struggles.
For John B and Liv Routledge, the Pogues weren't just a group of friends—they were family.
The Routledge home sat on the edge of the marsh, a weathered shack with peeling white paint and a hammock that swayed gently in the ocean breeze. Liv was sprawled out in it now, her long brown hair falling in messy waves over her shoulders as she balanced a sketchbook on her knees. Her sun-kissed skin bore the faintest traces of freckles, and a smudge of charcoal stained her fingers, a testament to hours spent drawing.
Nearby, John B knelt on the wooden deck, waxing his surfboard with practiced care. His sandy-blond hair, perpetually tousled by saltwater and wind, caught the sunlight as he worked. Tall and lean, he moved with the ease of someone who had grown up by the sea, every motion second nature.
"You're wasting a perfectly good wave day," John B said, glancing up at her with a teasing grin.
Liv shot him a smirk, twirling her pencil. "Not all of us need to paddle out to feel alive, you know. Some of us like to relax."
"Relaxing's overrated," he replied, pulling the wax across the board with long, deliberate strokes.
Liv chuckled, but her smile faltered as her gaze drifted toward the dock. The family's boat, the HMS Pogue, bobbed lazily in the water, still waiting for Big John's return. It had been months since their father disappeared, and though John B clung to the hope that he'd come back, Liv wasn't so sure.
The rumble of an old dirt bike pulled her from her thoughts. JJ Maybank, with his wild blonde hair and mischievous grin, skidded to a stop in front of the house.
JJ was the jokester and troubled one, often dealt with an abusive father at home, but he rarely talked about it with the group, hiding his pain behind jokes.
"Morning, Routledges!" he called, swinging off the bike. His eyes flicked to Liv, and she felt the familiar flutter in her chest. She quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her sketchbook.
"Finally!" John B said, standing and clapping JJ on the shoulder. "Where've you been?"
"Fixing this beast," JJ replied, patting the handlebars of his bike. "And by fixing, I mean duct-taping it back together."
Liv laughed softly. JJ always had a knack for turning his troubles into a joke, but she knew better than to ask too many questions.
Before JJ could launch into another story, the familiar honk of an old van echoed down the dirt road. The van screeched to a halt, and Kiara Carrera and Pope Heyward spilled out, carrying snacks and a boombox.
Kiara, her dark curls framing her face in a wild cascade, lived on the kook side but had been kicked out by her parents after refusing to follow their rules and was now living with John B and Liv.
Pope, with his lean build and sharp, intelligent eyes, was the brains and glue of the group, he worked for his dad during the week, helping out at Heyward's seafood stand and handling inventory. His dark skin glowed under the sun, and his closely cropped hair always seemed perfectly in place, a subtle reflection of his meticulous nature.
"Party's here!" Kiara declared, tossing a bag of chips at John B.
Pope grinned, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "We figured you'd be slacking off, so we brought reinforcements."
"Slacking? Never," John B said, but the smirk on his face gave him away.
The group made their way to the backyard of the Chateau, where a cluster of worn chairs and a faded hammock were scattered beneath the shade of the oak trees. The late morning sun streamed through the branches, dappling the grass with golden light. Kiara dropped into one of the old beach chairs, cracking open a beer and tossing her sandals to the side.
Pope fiddled with the boombox perched on the porch railing, finally landing on a reggae station. The mellow beats drifted out, mixing with the chirping of birds and the distant hum of waves crashing on the shore.
JJ leaned back in the hammock, beer in hand, a carefree grin plastered across his face as he swung lazily. Liv sat cross-legged on the grass beside him, sipping her drink and letting the warmth of the sun seep into her skin.
"So," JJ started, his voice drawing everyone's attention, "what's the plan today? Anything exciting, or are we embracing the art of doing absolutely nothing?"
"Same as always," John B replied from his spot in a chair tilted precariously on its back legs. "Stay alive, have fun, avoid Kooks."
"And save the turtles," Kiara added pointedly, taking a swig of her beer and shooting JJ a look as he pretended to toss an empty bottle cap into the grass.
JJ raised his hands in mock innocence. "Relax, Kie. I'd never disrespect nature like that."
The group laughed, though Liv couldn't help but notice the flicker of something more serious behind JJ's grin as he turned his gaze toward the horizon. It was rare to see him let his guard down, and it tugged at her heart in a way she couldn't quite explain.
Instead of calling him out, she nudged him with her shoulder. "Feel like losing to me at surfing later?"
JJ's grin brightened, the weight in his expression lifting. "You're dreaming, Princess. You're on."
The group lounged in the backyard for the next hour, the easy rhythm of their banter mingling with the reggae beats. JJ made a half-hearted attempt to start a game of catch with a crumpled can, which ended with him and John B wrestling on the ground when JJ "accidentally" threw it at John B's head. Kiara rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the amused smile off her face as she leaned back in her chair, beer in hand.
Eventually, the mess of snacks and discarded cans started piling up, and Liv stood with a sigh. "You guys are the worst. Do any of you ever clean up after yourselves?"
"Why bother when you're so good at it?" JJ teased, still sprawled in the hammock.
Pope shook his head with a laugh and got up to help Liv. "You're setting a dangerous precedent, JJ. One day, Liv's going to stop bailing you out, and then you're screwed."
"She'd never do that to me," JJ called after them. "Right, Liv?"
Liv rolled her eyes but smiled as she grabbed the cooler and started picking up trash. "Don't push your luck, Maybank."
Pope grabbed the boombox, and together, they carried everything to the porch. As they worked, he glanced at Liv's sketchbook, his tone softening. "Is that of your parents?"
Liv hesitated, caught off guard by the question, but the interest in Pope's voice made it easy to open up. "Yeah, it's going to have John B and I in it too when I'm done."
Pope nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Wow. that's awesome, you should seriously consider going to school for art after graduation."
Liv giggled, grateful for the reassurance. "Thanks, Pope. That means a lot."
By the time they finished cleaning up, the others were already packing the cooler and throwing towels into the back of John B's van, ready to head to the beach.
"Finally," JJ called as Liv and Pope walked back over. "Thought you two had ditched us to start a new cleaning crew or something."
"Don't tempt me," Liv shot back, earning a laugh from the group.
The drive to the beach was filled with music and lighthearted bickering, the kind of moments that made everyone feel like, despite everything, this was exactly where they were meant to be.
When they arrived, they claimed their usual spot on the sand and spread out towels and chairs. It didn't take long for the chaos to resume.
JJ and Liv ended up knee-deep in the surf, wrestling over a boogie board while John B and Kiara cheered them on from the shore. Liv shrieked as JJ lunged at her, his grin mischievous as she dodged and splashed him in the face.
"Play fair, JJ!" Kiara called, though she was laughing too hard to sound convincing.
"Never!" JJ yelled back, tackling the board but missing as Liv ducked out of the way.
Eventually, Liv managed to yank the board free, stumbling backward into the water. JJ collapsed beside her, both of them breathless from laughter.
"You've got some fight in you, huh?" JJ said, his blue eyes sparkling.
Liv shrugged, trying to hide her blush. "Someone's got to keep you in check."
"You're going down, Maybank!" Liv shouted, clutching the boogie board tightly as she paddled intensely away from JJ, her laughter carrying over the sound of the waves. The water splashed around her as she tried to gain distance, kicking hard to keep ahead of him.
"In your dreams!" JJ retorted, but his laughter betrayed his lack of seriousness.
Liv glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw JJ closing the gap. "Stay back, JJ! I mean it!" she warned, though the laughter in her voice betrayed her attempt at seriousness.
"Not a chance," JJ shot back, lunging forward in a burst of energy, sending a wave of water her way as he tried to grab the edge of the board.
Liv let out a shriek as the wave hit her, nearly knocking her off balance. "You're such a cheat!" she yelled, paddling even harder, her determination matched by her grin.
JJ laughed, still chasing after her. "Hey, I play to win!"
Onshore, Kiara sat cross-legged in the sand with a notebook in hand, ripping out pieces of paper and scribbling numbers on them. She passed one to Pope and another to John B, who were both watching JJ intently.
As JJ caught a wave, he crouched low on his board, twisting his body into a sharp turn before launching himself into the air with an effortless flip. Landing in the water, spraying water as he grinned and paddled back toward the group.
When JJ got closer to the lineup and gave a mock bow, the three of them held up their makeshift scorecards. Pope showed a "7," Kiara a "9," and John B a solid "8."
"Not bad, Maybank," Kiara teased, smirking.
"Not bad?" JJ called back. "That was art, Kie!"
"Art gets a 10," Pope quipped, holding his "7" higher just to annoy JJ.
Liv paddled out next, determined to one-up JJ. As the next wave rolled in, she steadied herself, standing on the board with surprising grace. Then, with a playful confidence, she threw in a spin—less polished than JJ's but still impressive— then she focused on carving into the wave, leaning into her turns with precision. Her movements were fluid and controlled as she cut through the water, sending sprays of saltwater arcing into the air. Ending her impressive performance with a bow as she lightly falls into the water.
The moment she hit the water, the group erupted with cheers.
"All right, Liv!" Kiara yelled, flipping her notebook to display her score: "10."
Pope and John B followed suit, both holding up perfect "10" scores as well.
JJ gaped at them from the water. "What?! Are you kidding me?"
Liv shrugged, grinning as she ruffled her wet hair. "I guess they know real talent when they see it."
JJ laughing, splashing water as he paddled in. "This is rigged. I'm calling foul!"
The group's laughter rang out, filling the beach with an easy joy that felt almost normal, a reprieve from everything else hanging over their heads.
As Liv and JJ finally returned to the shore, dripping and exhausted, Pope cleared his throat. His tone was more serious now, cutting through the lingering laughter.
"Okay, can we focus for a second?" he said, glancing between them.
The group exchanged uneasy looks, their smiles fading as worry flickered across their faces. John B straightened up, brushing sand off his hands, while Kiara furrowed her brows, leaning in slightly like she was bracing for bad news. Even JJ stopped his usual antics, tilting his head as he waited for Pope to drop whatever bombshell he was about to deliver.
Pope let the silence hang for a moment before finally speaking. "I seriously think we should hit the boneyard tonight."
The tension shattered in an instant.
"Seriously?!" Kiara said, rolling her eyes. "You had us worried for a second!"
John B chuckled, shaking his head. "Dude, you can't just pause like that—it's dramatic for no reason."
JJ flopped onto the sand with a groan. "I thought you were gonna say we were out of beer or something."
Liv smirked, grabbing a towel to dry her hair. "And here I was, mentally preparing for some life-or-death revelation."
Pope couldn't help but laugh, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! My bad for trying to be serious for once."
"The Boneyard" was a stretch of beach that the Pogues had claimed as their own. It was their sanctuary, far from the prying eyes of Kooks and tourists.
"Count me in," John B said.
"Me too," Kiara added.
Liv hesitated, her gaze flicking to JJ. She knew she'd spend the night stealing glances at him, trying to mask the feelings she could never say out loud.
"Liv?" John B's voice snapped her back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm in," she said quickly, forcing a smile.
JJ grinned, his arm draping casually over her shoulders. "That's my girl."
Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. JJ had no idea what those words did to her, and she intended to keep it that way.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the Pogues packed up their things and headed toward the Boneyard. They were five misfits in a town that didn't care for their kind, but they had each other—and for now, that was enough.
The morning sun was already burning high as John B and Liv Routledge rode their bikes through the narrow paths that cut between the Pogue side of town and the sprawling estates of Figure Eight. Liv could feel the humidity clinging to her skin, the weight of the previous night still lingering in her mind. The Boneyard had been their escape—a place where Pogues could just exist—but today, they were back in the real world, working for the Cameron's.
Their bikes screeched to a halt in front of the Cameron estate, a mansion so pristine it looked like it had been carved from marble. The perfectly manicured lawn, the sweeping staircase, and the shimmering pool were all reminders of the vast chasm between the Pogues and the Kooks.
"Ready for this?" John B asked, glancing at his sister.
"Do I have a choice?" Liv shot back, her smile small but genuine.
John B chuckled. "Let's just get through it."
They locked up their bikes and got to work. John B grabbed the mower and headed for the lawn, his movements practiced and efficient. Liv let herself into the house through the side door, greeted by the faint hum of air conditioning and the faint scent of fresh flowers.
From her bedroom window, Sarah Cameron sipped her morning coffee and watched John B push the mower across the lawn. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, as he worked under the sun. She tilted her head, studying him. There was something about John B—something wild, untamed, and different from anyone else she knew.
Setting her coffee down, Sarah made up her mind.
She threw on a casual sundress and padded downstairs, her sandals clicking softly against the marble floors. As she entered the hallway, she heard movement in the dining room. Turning the corner, she found Liv dusting a cabinet, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
"Morning," Sarah said, her voice warm.
Liv glanced up, startled. "Oh, hey. Morning, Sarah."
"You're always so focused when you're here," Sarah said, leaning against the doorframe.
Liv smiled politely, returning to her work. "Just trying to get everything done before your dad finds a reason to complain."
Sarah laughed, a genuine sound that echoed in the room. "Yeah, he can be...particular. Don't worry, though. The house always looks great when you're here."
Liv hesitated, surprised by the compliment. "Thanks. That means a lot."
Sarah crossed the room and perched on the edge of the table. "So, what's it like? Growing up on The Cut?"
Liv raised an eyebrow, unsure if Sarah was being genuine or just curious in that detached, Kook way. But Sarah's expression was earnest.
"It's...different from here," Liv said slowly. "But I like it. It feels real. Less about appearances, more about people."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. Sometimes, I think this whole place is just...fake." She gestured around the room.
"You don't seem fake," Liv said before she could stop herself.
Sarah smiled. "Thanks. You don't either. I like that about you."
Liv felt a blush creep up her neck. She wasn't used to Kooks—especially ones like Sarah Cameron—being so nice to her.
The sound of the mower stopping outside broke the moment. Sarah glanced toward the window, then back at Liv. "I'll leave you to it. See you around?"
"Yeah. See you," Liv replied, watching as Sarah disappeared out the back door, book in hand.
Outside, John B crouched to clear a jam in the mower. He wiped the sweat from his brow, muttering under his breath.
From her perch on a lounge chair near the pool, Sarah watched him, pretending to read her book. She smiled to herself as he stood, his movements fluid and confident. There was something magnetic about John B that made it impossible for her to look away.
But as much as she wanted to talk to him, Sarah stayed put. She wasn't sure if he'd even want to talk to her, especially with Topper in the picture.
Back inside, Liv had moved on to polishing the silverware when she heard the unmistakable sound of Rafe's footsteps. He sauntered into the room, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair still messy from sleep.
"Well, well, well," he said, his voice smooth. "If it isn't my favorite Routledge."
Liv glanced up, narrowing her eyes. "Good morning to you too, Rafe."
He leaned against the counter, watching her with an infuriating smirk. "You've been working here how long now? Two years?"
"Something like that," Liv replied, keeping her tone neutral.
"Hard to believe. Feels like you've always been around," Rafe said, his gaze lingering.
Liv ignored the way his eyes seemed to drink her in, focusing instead on arranging the silverware. "Guess that's because it's true." Rafe's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Yeah. Good ol' Big John. Shame what happened."
Liv's hands froze, but she didn't look up. "Yeah. Shame."
Sensing her discomfort, Rafe softened his tone—just slightly. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it."
Liv finally met his eyes, searching for a hint of sincerity. "Sure you didn't."
He held her gaze for a moment longer, his grin slowly spreading across his face. "You know," he said, his tone shifting into something deliberately teasing, "you should take a break. Go for a swim or something." He paused, letting the suggestion hang in the air before adding with a sly smirk, "I could join you."
The way he said it—low, flirty, and far too self-assured—made Liv's stomach churn. He was doing this on purpose, trying to bring up an old past.
"Thanks, but I've got work to do," Liv said, turning back to her task.
Rafe chuckled, pushing off the counter. "Suit yourself."
As he left the room, Liv let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Rafe Cameron was nothing but trouble—but part of her couldn't deny the strange pull he had.
Out by the pool, Sarah had finally given up on her book, her attention drifting back to John B. She thought about the stories her father used to tell about Big John—how they'd been inseparable as kids, always chasing one treasure or another. It made her wonder how everything had fallen apart.
Growing up, the Routledge's and the Cameron's had been almost inseparable. Liv and Sarah spent countless summers building sandcastles and chasing crabs along the shore, while John B and Rafe raced their bikes down dirt paths and got into harmless trouble together. It all changed three years ago when Liv and John B's mom passed away. After the funeral, Big John had abruptly cut ties with the Cameron's, forbidding his kids from spending time with them. He never explained why, but his decision was firm. Though the Cameron's offered their condolences, the invisible wall Big John built between the families only grew taller over time. Now, their interactions were confined to the occasional awkward wave or brief exchanges while working at the estate, a faint echo of what once was.
Inside, Rafe leaned against the doorway, watching Liv as she moved through the house. Unlike Sarah, he didn't need to wonder. He knew the truth about their family—how money, greed, and ambition had twisted everything. And he knew one thing for sure: Liv Routledge didn't belong in their world.