HOPELESSLY DEVOTED

an outer banks story

by -spacecadet

CHAPTER EIGHT: DISPOSABLE INCOME

The smell of bacon frying reminded Campbell of her grandmother more than the woman's own voice did.

Despite the ache in her head and the uneasiness of her stomach, the smell of the greasy breakfast Marie was preparing downstairs, along with a faint hint of coffee in the air, brought Campbell right out of her bed. Before she knew it, she was stumbling around her bedroom, trying to find clothes to wear. Her dress from the night before was piled in a heap next to her bed, where she'd dumped it before crawling into bed in nothing but her underwear.

She pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of running shorts before trudging downstairs, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Marie cheerfully greeted Campbell as she took a seat at the table.

Ruth, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee, grabbed a second mug and poured some for her niece. She smirked as she silently handed the girl the mug and sat down across from her, a copy of the New York Times waiting at her spot. Where exactly Ruth found a copy of the paper on the island, Campbell wasn't sure. It had to be old.

"Late night?" Ruth quipped innocently, looking at Campbell over the pages of her newspaper.

Campbell sipped the coffee slowly, her eyes narrowing over the mug as she took in Ruth's smug face. "Yeah."

"Out with Luke's kid?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you do?" Ruth asked.

"Went surfing after dinner. Then met up with some kids at school."

"A party?"

Campbell nodded in response.

Ruth snorted and turned towards her mother, who was buttering pieces of toast. "Y'know, it's interesting, Mom, how you give Campbell no curfew and let her go to parties, all without batting an eye."

Without skipping a beat, or taking her eyes off the toast, Marie replied, "That's because we trust Campbell, Ruthie."

Ruth scoffed. "Oh God, would that have been something if I had been going to parties with a Maybank."

Clyde shuffled into the kitchen, looking for his bacon. "You wouldn't have been caught dead with Luke Maybank, smart ass."

Ruth shrugged her shoulders. "It's the principle of it all."

"Well, sweetie, you're an adult now, so you can go to all the parties you want," Marie said, carrying a plate of food to the table. "No curfew."

"And I bet Luke Maybank would enjoy your company," Clyde teased. "I'm sure he could use a good lawyer."

Ruth ignored her parents' jabs and turned her attention to her niece. "Do you work today?"

Campbell shook her head. "I have the day off."

"Good. Clear your schedule. We're going to have a little Ruth-and-Campbell time."

"Oh?" Campbell questioned, choking on her coffee.

"Yeah. I have some vacation days to use up, so I'm going to hang out in the OBX for a while." A smile that seemed too bright filled Ruth's face. "Catch up with my favorite niece."

Campbell couldn't even begin to hide the surprise on her face. "Okay. What do you want to do?"

Ruth shrugged. "Whatever you want to do. What do you usually do with her free time?"

"Hang out with my friends."

"And what do you guys do?"

Besides drink and smoke weed? Campbell wondered to herself.

"Surf, mostly. Fish sometimes. Lay out on the boat in the marsh."

Ruth smirked. "Typical OBX shenanigans. Well, why don't we head to the beach then? I haven't been up on a board in years, but maybe I've still got it."

Before she knew it, Campbell found herself in the passenger seat of her aunt's rented Porsche, slightly hungover, texting the pogues that she had to bail on their plans for the day because she had plans of her own: with her aunt.

Ruth was taking her to the other side of the island, to one of the nicer beaches frequented by the kooks. Surfboards wouldn't have fit on or in the Porsche, so they were going to have to rent some there, which Campbell found ridiculous. Ruth may have been a pogue by birth, but she and her disposable income screamed kook.

Campbell's phone buzzed, and she looked down to see that JJ had texted her, separate from the group chat they shared with the others.

JJ: plans with your aunt? THE aunt?

Campbell: that's her.

JJ: call me later, I want to hear ALL about it

Her cheeks warmed and she smiled to herself, stuffing the phone in her bag as she looked out the window.

"Who's that?" Ruth said, glancing over quickly. "The Maybank boy?"

"Yeah."

Ruth smirked to herself. "You're sure he's not your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Mhm. Do you want him to be?"

The question was so out of pocket, Campbell wasn't sure how to respond. Her face turned beet red, and she stammered for a response. Her hesitation was enough of a response for Ruth, who chuckled knowingly.

"Campbell, if I can impose one life lesson on you, let it be this: men are so obtusely stupid, that they don't notice anything."

"What do you mean?" Campbell finally stammered.

"If you want that boy to be your boyfriend, you have to tell him," Ruth replied matter-of-factly.

Oh, only if it were so simple.

The first time Campbell looked at JJ as more than a friend had coincidentally been the first time she'd been drunk.

It was the summer before high school, the day JJ got his first fake ID. He bought a pack of the cheapest beer and the pogues hid out at the Chateau, knowing Big John wouldn't care if they were drinking. If they were going to do it, he'd rather they do it safely under his roof.

They were dancing around the porch to the radio. Even though she had been drunk, Campbell still remembered the song that was playing: "Sister Golden Hair," by America.

It was the perfect summer song.

Kiara had Campbell's hand, and the two girls were spinning around while the boys laughed, watching them.

"I really think you missed your calling as a professional dancer, Cam," JJ teased sarcastically,

"Oh yeah? Well if I'm so bad, let's see your moves then," she replied, reaching a hand towards JJ.

"Yeah, boys. Get out here. Don't let us have all the fun. I'm sick of this toxic masculinity thing where men think they can't dance," Kiara whined.

"Okay okay, we'll dance," JJ laughed, stepping forward to take Campbell's hand.

She remembered feeling like his hand felt right in hers, and as he twirled her around the porch, she felt her stomach lurch, in a good way.

Those were what butterflies felt like.

"You know, we could have gone to the Boneyard," Campbell said. "We could have walked. I surf there all the time."

"Yeah, I hung out there all the time when I was your age. I never got the chance to surf on this side of the island. And now I have the chance."

Beyond the fact that this beach was on the other side of the island, and thus harder to get to, it also required an entry fee. It was one more way the kooks in Figure Eight could limit pogue access to their part of the island.

But Ruth was right — she could definitely afford it.

They pulled up to the gate attendant, and Campbell watched as her aunt paid ten dollars — each — for their entry. Her eyes locked on her black American Express as Ruth passed it to him. Campbell didn't know much about credit cards, but she'd worked at the country club long enough to know that the black credit card was invite only, and only to the elite.

Just how wealthy was Ruth?

They parked amongst Range Rovers and other Porsches before heading to the beach's clubhouse, where they offered rentals for surfboards, chairs, and other beach equipment.

Campbell immediately felt out of place as they stepped into the pristine air conditioned building, her dirty sandals scuffing against the perfectly polished white marble floor.

They were deep in kook territory.

Ruth walked confidently up to the rental counter. "Two shortboards, please," she said, sliding the AmEx across the counter.

Campbell recognized the clerk from school, and her cheeks flushed. She suddenly felt embarrassed to be there.

"Hi, Campbell," the girl, whose name tag read "Emma," said with a polite smile. Campbell further recognized her from the party she'd attended the night before.

"Oh, do you two know each other?" Ruth questioned.

"We go to school together," Campbell replied.

"Campbell was on my flip cup team last night," Emma said with a laugh.

Campbell's cheeks flushed again and she groaned internally as Ruth turned to her with a sly smirk. "Is that so?" Ruth said before turning back to Emma. "Well, I'm Campbell's aunt. I'm visiting from New York."

Emma nodded politely. "Well, since I know you, you can come in the back and pick out your boards, if you want. I'm sure you're pretty particular about your surfing equipment."

Campbell wasn't sure if that was a dig at Ruth, at Campbell, or both of them.

Or if Emma was trying to be nice.

Either way, she followed Ruth and Emma to the back room, where racks and racks of the best surfboards she'd ever seen lined the walls. Eager to get out of the building and into the water, Campbell grabbed the first one she spotted: an orange one patterned with large flowers.

Ruth grabbed a board and they headed out to the water, Campbell frantically scanning the beach for anyone else she knew. She recognized a few kooks from the country club, but other than that, no one else.

"Flip cup?" Ruth questioned as they set their stuff down on a pair of beach chairs.

"I played once, and I didn't really want to," Campbell replied, feeling defensive. Not that she had to explain herself to Ruth. Before Ruth could make another smug comment, one that would undoubtedly allude to JJ being a bad influence on Campbell, Campbell kicked her shoes and shorts off and headed into the water, board in hand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ author's note ✫・゜・。.

HI, it's been a while, hasn't it? anyways, here's a new chapter. i had fun writing it. i'm having even more fun writing the coming chapters.

i don't have much to say, so here's your author's note. thanks for reading!

xx,

madi