CAN'T TOUCH MY DESTINY —

Intoxicated by her one true love mary jane, and filled to the brim with cherry slushie that’s currently giving her a mondo brain freeze, CJ blinks as a reply. She collects her thoughts, “Dude, don’t talk about the moon landing like that — I’m tryna go to space eventually.” And then, “You think Miley’s a clone too?” Another. “You’ve heard of the Mandela effect? I think I’m part of the other universe — the Berenstein bears one.”

CJ had all but given up on hunting for the “hidden cove” she’d read about in some local’s blog. Instead, she’d turned her weekly adventure to Settler’s Point, dead set on catching a video of a ghost to prove to her ex-girlfriend that they were real. (And yeah she’d chosen to go in the daytime, but whatever, she’d re-visit it at night eventually.)

After her morning at the studio, Ruby was getting ready to head out and go about her day. It was mid afternoon by now, her radio show having just gone off the air about thirty minutes ago, and she’d taken her time saying goodbye to her coworkers before walking out the door. She loved her job more than anything in the world, getting to co-host a show on her favorite station, the one she’d listened to since she moved to Wellcliff as a teenager. It always seemed to good to be true, but that was her life and she was thankful for it. 

CJ feels it before she hears it — the soft thud to her back as she herself pays no mind to the oncoming traffic on the sidewalk. She’d paused riding, one foot off her cruiser board to hold herself in place, to look for Wellcliff monuments that aligned with the path to the “hidden cove” some local blog had posted. 

"Fuck, am I really that old?” she turns to the dude, holding a little necklace with a shark tooth in one hand, and a pooka shell bracelet in the other. “Are these really outta fashion? We’re in a beach town, they’re never out of fashion.”

There’s a long list of things Aidan loves about her job at Sparky’s–the laidback environment, picking up on all the town gossip, getting to give entitled drunk men a piece of her mind when necessary–the list goes on. But probably her favorite thing is getting the cooks to give her baskets of delicious, perfectly golden french fries to eat behind the bar practically every shift. It may seem like a small thing, but she’s tried many a french fry in her day, and none of them compare to Sparky’s. It’s a weekday and still pretty early, so the bar is slow except for a few regulars who are already taken care of, and Aidan finds herself munching on the fried delicacy while queueing up some songs for the night. She’s so distracted by the taste and the music that she doesn’t realize the person walking into the bar until they’re seated right in front of her. “Oh sh–,” the bartender starts, swallowing and standing up straight from her position leaning against the bar. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.” She chuckles to herself and runs a hand through her short hair. “Can I get you started with something? I can definitely recommend the fries.” 

It’s taken CJ two weeks to get situated and into a routine she could be proud of. Though Sparky’s bar had seemed enticing the moment she landed in Wellcliff, she knew the biggest lesson she’d have to learn this summer was self control and moderation.

With the two tequila shots she’d downed earlier starting to lose their effect, she finds herself after an hour of straight jamming in a corner on the dance floor hovering by the punch bowl. She hears the tail end of a conversation, brown eyes seeking up to note the woman coming in her direction. “I’m warning you right now... some kids spiked this ish like it’s prom night,” she grins, grabbing a cup for herself in the classic manor by dipping the edge of it and letting it pool half way. “This one over here’s just orange juice for chaser, I think, if she wants something to drink too?” she offers, looking behind her to note the kid.

Location: Hot Dog Stand, The Boardwalk Status: Open

“That’s what I’m saying,” CJ responds, bringing the hot dog dressed with mayo and ketchup to her lips. “You ever had a cheese corndog? The pepperjack ones are my jam.” She wipes the remnants of her lips with the back of her hand. “You’d make bank if you opened up a stand.”

// @wellcliffstarters​ | 5pm @ the bonfire

Stationed at the bar (where else would she be, really?), corona in hand, she feels motion to the side of her as someone saddles up. 

“All I’m saying is, it literally took me 23 years to realize that salt and pepper didn’t make paprika.” Cade fired back to seemingly no one in particular as he leaned against the fence blocking off the boardwalk from the rest of the beach. “Blue’s Clue’s is either out here lying to children about how it’s made or the Mr. and Mrs. have some additional explaining to do.” He added before he recognized the strange look he was receiving from the other person who was sitting a few feet away on one of the benches. He made a motion to try and explain that he had an air pod in and that he wasn’t a complete lunatic sitting on the boardwalk talking to himself about, but that didn’t do him much good when all of a sudden it was falling out of his ear and into the sand below. “Shit!” He exclaimed the frustration thick in his voice as he glanced over and contemplated the drop, down to the sand. “Quick initial thoughts, too high up to jump over or should I make the long trek along the beach?”

When she thinks about it — Blue’s Clues really did convince an entire generation that salt and pepper made paprika. But, then again, they also encouraged an entire generation of tween boys that wearing the same shirt every day was okay, so, she’d take that show with a grain of salt. Raising an eyebrow, she watches the scenario play out to the side of her, a laugh leaving her lips when he asks about jumping.