You’re a Kook who’s fuck buddies with JJ. What happens when you find yourself falling for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?
↣ JJ Maybank Must Die | fuckboy!JJ x Reader
You’re a surf instructor and JJ is the island’s most infamous fuckboy. You help a group of tourist girls plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until the playboy you were sworn to ruin falls head over heels for you.
[Based on John Tucker Must Die]
↣ Fake Boyfriend | JJ x Kook!Reader
You’re a Kook Princess who had everything you ever wanted... until your Kook Prince dumps you for a hot new fling. So, you bribe the person he hates most, JJ Maybank, to be your fake boyfriend for the summer.
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You’re a Kook Princess who has everything you ever wanted... until your handsome Kook Prince dumps you for a hot new fling. To save your reputation, you bribe the one person he hates the most, JJ Maybank, to pretend to be your boyfriend for the summer. All’s fair in love and war. But where do you draw that line when you’re suddenly wishing your fake boyfriend is your real one?
“Hey I got your text! What’s so important that I have to leave work to meet you?” JJ panted, doubled over with his palms on both knees. He looked like he just ran a marathon with no prior training… and smelled like it too.
“We have a fashion emergency!” you shouted and leaped up from the bench along the entrance of the shopping strand.
“H-Huh?” he gasped, regaining his breath, “What do you mean?”
From the looks of it, he probably ran all the way to the strand from the south side— which was probably about four miles if you had to guess. Sliding up your black circular Gucci sunglasses into your hair, you threw him an annoyed look. What was so hard to understand about fashion emergency?
“This week we have a tee time, dinner with my dad’s friends, and another brunch. So we will need to update your wardrobe for all that. We can’t have you showing up looking like a scarecrow again— no offense,” you explained, sprinkling in the last part.
JJ straightened and sassily placed his hands on his hips. “Y/n what the hell?! I ran out on a thirty dollar shift just so you can go shopping?”
You scoffed. “The shopping is for you, dimwit! I am offering you free clothes worth way more than thirty dollars and this is how you decide to treat me?”
“You’re the one making me dress up like an idiot!” he retorted.
And you were the difficult one?
“Just shut up and come on,” you demanded, yanking his hand, “You were already late meeting me and the shops close in two hours!”
“What?!” he groused while you dragged him, “You’re telling me we’re going to take longer than that?”
First stop was the high-end golf-wear store— as you figured he would at least enjoy the athletic stuff first. Much to your dismay, JJ stomped inside like a child being dragged against his will. “Ew! Look at all this,” he cringed, gesturing towards the front mannequins, “It looks like Topper threw up all over it. I can’t be walking around looking like that!”
“You are so dramatic,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.
A store associate approached you both at the entrance. You smiled politely at her, recognizing her from the many times she’s help you and your mom.
“Shopping for more skirts Miss Y/n? We have a new collection in for the summer,” she greeted. You were tempted, but shook your head. “No thanks, though I might take a peek at them later. Today,” you threw an arm over JJ’s shoulders as if you were taking him under your wing, “we’re shopping for this one.”
“Oh, right,” the associate nodded reluctantly, eyeing JJ’s grass stained white clothes. It was pretty clear she was trying so hard to keep a straight face despite his sweaty stench stinking up the area. She turned to you, “I’ll have our stylists take his measurements and then we’ll be back with some selections. Do you have a specific style in mind?”
You tapped your chin, racking your brain to plan the outfits you would wear this week. It would be cute to match with JJ and tie together the whole ‘coordinating cute couple’ aesthetic. “I’m thinking white or khaki shorts,” you began, “With a striped polo in periwinkle or lavender if you have that or something similar.”
JJ scrunched his nose at you like you were speaking straight gibberish. The worker nodded at your description, motioning for the others in the fitting room area to come out with the tape measure.
“Woah! Hey!” JJ jolted with his hands jerking up as the stylist team wrapped the tape around his chest and hips.
When they were done, both of you plopped down on the velvet seating just outside the fitting rooms as the workers rummaged through the store and stock room.
“Ugh, I feel so violated,” JJ whined, rubbing his pecs.
The main associate came by to offer you both sparkling water on a tray. JJ was taken aback by this, but took a sip anyway. He immediately grimaced at the taste. “Y/n, this taste like toilet water!”
Ignoring him, you leaned back in your chair and scrolled through your phone while your fake boo continued to glance around the humongous fitting room in disbelief. “Damn, all this just to play golf?” he scoffed, taking another sip of his bubbly water. You could tell he was coming around to it.
“Yeah, pretty much. My dad usually takes me along to play with his business partners, so we have to look top notch. They’re way more uppity than us— believe it or not. And Max is always there since my dad and his dad work together.”
“That’s gotta be awkward,” he commented. You nodded in agreement and continued, “Max is one of the best golf players on the Eight. So I’m gonna need you to practice a little before Friday.”
“Practice what? Do I look like I own golf clubs?”
“I’ll just lend you my dad’s old ones. Just watch a video tutorial on it or something,” you waved off.
He sunk further in his velvet cushion chair. “You know, you are asking for way too much of me. Maybe I should up-charge you for all this unnecessary Kook training you’re making me do!”
“Speaking of,” you added nonchalantly, “You’re coming over tomorrow night for etiquette training. I called my old instructor to come by and teach you a few things.”
“Are you kidding me?” He droned, though you hardly moved a muscle on your face, too fixated on a text to Sarah to care. His huffing and puffing was like background noise to you at that point.
“You Kooks are crazy!” he rambled, “It’s fucking brunch not tea with the Queen of England!”
Before he could drone on, the store associates circled around to let you know JJ’s dressing room was set up. The blond groaned, flung his head back further on the chair in agony, and proceeded to drag himself like a sorry mop into the dressing room. His misery was beginning to amuse you. Sipping your water, you waited among the ruffling noises of clothes being flung everywhere in the little stall before JJ emerged in the first outfit.
You craned your neck to inspect him. It wasn’t bad. He actually could pass for a real golfer!
“The periwinkle was an excellent choice,” you commented quietly to the sales associates who huddled around you. You felt like a judge on Project Runway.
JJ’s face, on the other hand, looked like a kid whose mom forced him to go school shopping while all his friends went to the waterpark for the day. Though he was slouching, the collared shirt actually hugged his figure nicely. Not to mention his biceps were practically bulging out the sleeves. He did have a smoking hot body, though you’d never admit it out loud. His ego was the size of Jupiter as is.
Noticing one of the collars not folded properly, you clicked your tongue and went over to press it down for him. He instantly flinched away from you as if you carried a disease.
“Hold still and quit slouching! You can’t be looking sloppy out there, my dad’s friends are like billionaires.”
He grumbled to himself as you fixed the dreadful collar and continued to smooth out the rest of his his shirt. He swatted your hands away each time, and before you knew it, it turned into a mini cat fight trying to fix him up. The associates were definitely growing annoyed with you both at that point. You finally huffed and gave up. He was worse than a sibling.
“Now give us a twirl,” you instructed, wanting to make sure the shorts fit right. JJ rolled his eyes. “What am I? A fairy?”
“Just do it! The faster you cooperate the faster you can go home.”
JJ flung his hands in the air and did a half-ass spin, stopping just after he caught a glimpse of his back side in the giant floor-to-ceiling mirror. “Woah, woah, hold up,” he said, marveling at himself, “my ass looks fantastic in these!”
“Yeah, they’re performance gear,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly, “they’re supposed to hug your butt so you can bend over during swings.”
Before you knew it, JJ began ogling at himself doing squats in the mirror. “I didn’t know I owned such a dump truck!”
Your palm hit your face. “Whatever you weirdo! Just try on the other outfits so we can move on to the next stores,” you checked your watch, “we only have an hour and a half left!”
At your screeching, JJ hurried and threw on the navy blue and blush pink shirts for your approval. The workers suggested he try some of the other material shorts but JJ refused to stray from the ass-hugging ones.
Once he was done and you made your final selections, the associates quickly packed up all the items and folded them neatly for you at the register. JJ nearly fainted when the total flashed on the screen. You, on the other hand, just stuck your father’s black card into the machine without a second thought.
“Miss Y/n, always a pleasure to have you,” the cashier bid you goodbye as you motioned for JJ to collect the bags. He complied, and you both strolled out the shop— well, you strolled, JJ stumbled. Typical.
“Well,” JJ let out a breath, “that wasn’t so bad. Think I can survive a few more of these.”
He was sure biting his words by the time you moved on to formalwear. The rest of the afternoon felt like a coming-of-age movie with the gazillion outfits JJ was trying on. But instead of a fun and quirky main character, it was grumpy log JJ. You had to restrain your giggles in the suit shop where JJ was getting fitted for a bright pink suit. Oh, if looks could kill.
Curtain after curtain, his scowl would grow deeper and deeper with each pastel button down. “I already tried this color!” he’d whine, stomping his foot as he took another dress shirt off the hanger.
“That was white, this is cream!” You snapped, shoving at him another pile of clothes to try. He looked like he wanted to rain hellfire while you just obliviously waved him off, sitting back down outside his fitting room.
“Okay this is the last one,” he groaned from inside the cubicle. With a whip, the curtain hurled to the side as JJ emerged in a sea green suit with cream undertones.
You almost fell back on the ottoman. He looked… hot. The pants fit him a little too nicely, coming down to just above his ankles. He looked like he stepped straight out of an Armani catalog. Sure, there were part of his suit that needed tailoring but, for just a teensy moment, you had forgotten he was the cringey guy that pours cheap beer all over his face at parties. His blond hair even swept to the side all effortlessly like a model...
What... have you created?
Fiddling with his cuffs, he soon noticed your expression and threw you a cocky smirk. “You know, you can take a picture it’ll last longer.”
You blinked, sinking back to reality, and immediately jumped from your seat. “G-Give it here,” you commanded, jerking his arm towards you, “this is not how you adjust your cuffs. We will need to add cuff links to this as well.”
“So, I’m guessing this one’s a definite yes?” he raised his brows, slightly entertained at your sputtering. You two were so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. Thankfully, the clothes were all drenched with pungent cologne that masked his sweat stank incredibly well. Frankly, he wouldn’t be so bad if he just cleaned up here and there… or everywhere.
“Y-Yes. This one and the pink one,” you said, avoiding any type of eye contact as you pretended to be preoccupied with the cuffs. If JJ caught you blushing, you would never hear the end of it.
You quickly backed away from him. “Now hurry so we can get this to the tailors. I’ll have them deliver it to your house once it’s finished. We’re almost done for the day, just need shoes. Max used to get his from a little shop down in the corner so we’ll stop there after this.”
Once all the shirts, ties, socks, belts, cuff links, and handkerchiefs were expertly rolled in scented tissue paper and packed up, you strode out the shop with JJ on your trail. His arms were concealed in various sized shopping bags while you swung the strap of your hand bag on one arm and scrolled through your phone on the other. You ignored his fake cry for help and continued to head for the shoe store, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from your favorite dress shops on the way. It was twenty minutes until closing, and you were determined to complete your mission.
Making your way down the strip, you noticed JJ’s steps falling behind just as you passed by the Mermaid Boutique again— the same one your caught him staring into the other day. He stopped for a split second to glance inside, obviously to ogle at the same cashier working there.
You were never one to back out at the chance to play detective. The other day, you went to the boutique to ‘check out a dress’ and asked around about the girl. Apparently, her name was Ariel and she moved to the Outer Banks a few months ago. She went to Kildare High just like JJ and hardly talked to anyone besides her family. You didn’t really ping her for someone who’d be JJ’s type since she was so reserved and innocent. You doubted she ever made an appearance to the Boneyard. Nevertheless, you thought it was cute— the little puppy dog crush he had going on.
Before you could make a snarky remark, JJ was already ahead of you, trudging for the shoe store with dozens of shopping bags hanging on each of his arms. He flailed them around like a fish. “Hurry up!” he shouted as he pulled open the glass door, “I want this over with!”
Now shoes, he absolutely hated for reasons beyond your understanding. Every pair he tried on he complained they were too tight, too loose, too airy. You, and the store associate, wanted to rip his hair out.
“These are dress shoes you dummy! They’re not supposed to fit like your little work boots!”
“These shoes look huge on me Y/n! I feel like a fucking clown,” he droned.
You narrowed your eyes. “You are a clown.”
“Hey! Keep talking that smack Princess and I’ll embarrass you even more tomorrow… in front of the billionaires too,” he threatened.
You flipped him the bird and tossed another pair of Italian leather shoes at him. “Just shut up and put these on. Jesus, I’ve seen children keep it together better than you.”
“Your fault for hiring me to do this stupid job,” he snapped back, shoving his foot in the shoe, “Literally nowhere on my resume does it say I have Kook qualifications.”
To appease his grouchiness, you later offered to buy him a new pair of sneakers. Anything to shut him up at that point. He seemed pretty satisfied with that offer as you both settled on a pair of dress shoes, golf shoes, and sneakers before checking out at the counter.
You were pooped and JJ was drowned in a colorful pit of bags like a pack mule as you finally emerged from the strand. “You know,” he snarled, gesturing at himself struggling, “would it kill you to help a guy out? Jesus, Y/n, my back is already killing me and my spine’s gonna be dislocated by morning!”
You just shrugged, too tired to bicker with him, and grabbed the lightest one. “My bad, force of habit. I guess I’m just use to Max carrying all the bags for me.”
His eyebrows wrinkled. “Y/n, you’ve seriously never carried a shopping bag before?”
“Not when Max was with me, no,” you responded.
“On second thought, give me that then!” JJ snatched the bags right back out of your hands. “If Vega can do this shit, so can I! It’s gonna take a lot more than shopping bags to take down JJ Maybank!”
You giggled tiredly and shook your head. “You boys and your toxic male pride.”
Once everything was loaded into your car, you ever-so kindly offered JJ a ride home since it was getting kind of late. According to him, it was the least you could do after the ‘torture’ you put him through that evening. You regretted it almost immediately as he kicked his muddy boots up on your dash in the passenger seat and cranked up the radio. Hopefully the etiquette lessons would work some magic, because it’ll take a whole miracle to fix up JJ.
The ride back to JJ’s was fairly quiet aside from the music. The Pogue drummed along to the songs with his fingers, head stretching out the window. You were opposed to the windows down as your hair would look like a disaster afterwards, but after about five minutes of messing back and forth with the buttons, you let JJ have his way.
“So,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, “I never got to ask, but are you doing all this because you’re trying to get Vega back or what?”
“No!” you retorted, a little too quickly.
“Liar.”
“N-No, no I’m not! I would never take his sorry ass back. Not after what he did to me,” you went on, eyes blaring at the road ahead. It was semi-true— you were also trying to one-up Anya while you were at it. You hoped your argument was convincing enough, but clearly, you were terrible at lying.
“Then why do all this then?” JJ continued, “Not that I don’t want your money, but this seems a little much just to get back at Vega. You sure nothin’ else is going on?”
“Positive,” you waved off, hoping that would be the end of his little interrogation. The less he knew the better. Hell, the less anyone knew the better. But that was never the case on this island. You tell just one person and news will spread like wildfire, especially on Figure Eight.
Adjusting the radio, you hoped the music change would ease up the tension. You finally found an oldies station playing ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’ and turned up the volume.
“I love you babyyy and if it’s quite alright I need you babyyy,” you belted. JJ scowled. “Y/n what the hell?! All that money and your parents couldn’t afford singing lessons or what?”
“Ugh, shut up,” you snapped back, “And you seriously don’t know this song?”
He just blinked blankly back at you. “Y/n I’m sixteen not sixty!”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s a good song if you listen to it. Plus, Heath Ledger sings it to his girlfriend in 10 Things I Hate About You, my favorite movie,” you added. JJ scoffed, “Of course it’s a chick flick.”
“Well, what’d you think it would be? Fast and Furious?” you retorted. “Not with the way you drive. My grandma goes faster than you,” he shot back.
Pulling up to JJ’s driveway, you parked the car as he grumbled to himself and lugged all the dreaded shopping bags out of your backseat. He kicked the gravel and made his way to the door, not even acknowledging you for a goodbye. Your eyes met the car ceiling before you rolled down the window with your head poking out. “Don’t forget! Etiquette lessons tomorrow night and tee time on Saturday! And you’re picking me up from practice tomorrow too!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” JJ begrudgingly shrugged off before slamming the front door behind him.
When you finally got home, you were surprised to find Sarah casually sitting at your kitchen bar, conversing with your mom. “Hey,” you greeted her with confused brows, “what are you doing here?”
“Sarah came by earlier to have a girl’s day with you,” your mom responded, leaning against the Italian marble counter, swirling around her signature glass of Merlot.
“Yeah,” your best friend chimed in, “but you’ve been AWOL all afternoon. So I’ve been here chilling with your mom.”
Sarah popping in whenever she wanted used to be a regular thing— back during the prehistoric times before John B came in the picture. Though she was your best friend for life, you really hadn’t seen her much since they started dating. At first, it bothered you slightly, but you never held it over her head seeing as you did the same thing to her when you started dating Max. It was quite odd— her showing up out of the blue. You figured she might’ve gotten in a fight with John B or something and came over here to vent. Typical.
“As always, Sarah it’s been a delight,” your mom smiled at her second daughter, throwing on her purse over one shoulder and large tote bag over the other, “but I’ve got to get going. Isabel and I need to meet up tonight to discuss fundraiser ideas. You two have fun! Y/n, my card is on the counter if you girls want to order dinner tonight.”
With that, your mother waltzed out the door without a second glance. As soon as the front door echoed shut, Sarah whipped around on the leather barstool to face you directly, arms sternly crossed like she was about to lecture you.
“So, a little birdie told me you were with JJ today,” she began, “And he was your brunch date on Saturday. And he kissed you at Billy’s party too!”
“Hey, you would’ve known half this stuff if you came to brunch,” you defended, but she kept going.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Y/n! You and JJ are totally fake dating!”
“Psh, n-no!” you sputtered. “We actually,” you gulped, “are an item now.”
Your best friend rolled her eyes and gave you a look. “Y/n, literally a month ago you said you’d rather lick concrete in the Cut than drink after him. Don’t sit here and tell me you’re actually into him.”
Avoiding her gaze, you knew she’d catch onto you lying if she caught sight of your face. “Well… people can change,” you answered weakly.
“You’re so full of shit!” She shot back half-heartedly, “Just admit you’re using JJ to make Max jealous!”
Ugh, she was so demanding sometimes. “Fine, fine! Maybe I am using him as arm candy for the summer. But please don’t tell John B about the whole fake dating thing. It’s so embarrassing.” You wanted to curl up and disappear just saying it out loud.
“Okay, I won’t,” she agreed with a sigh, “But, Y/n, what exactly are you trying to achieve? Please tell me you aren’t trying to get Max back.”
“No! What? What is with you and JJ and everyone accusing me of trying to get back with him?”
“Well, why else would you do such a ridiculous thing? You’re telling me if Max got on his hands and knees and begged right now you wouldn’t take him back?” Sarah raised.
“Well,” you scratched the side of your head, “when you put it that way…”
“Y/n! What the hell!” she scolded, “He treated you like shit. Must I remind you of him prancing around that girl like she’s his shiny new pet?”
Leave it to Sarah Cameron to break down all your walls. She just knew how to get anything and everything out of you. Without even trying too. “I just- I can’t just throw all that history down the drain,” you finally confessed with deflated shoulders.
“But he did!” She reminded. You knew she was just trying to be a good friend looking out for you. And you knew that holding out for Max was the worst thing you could possibly do for your self esteem. But you just couldn’t help it. No matter how many times you pushed the thoughts and feelings away, they keep washing back up to shore.
“Look,” you exhaled, “right now I’m just improvising. It’s only for a little bit until I can figure everything out. But it’s just too much for me— seeing them together and having to sit through it all. I know JJ’s not the best contender, but it’s all pretend and will all be over with after Midsummer’s. Just trust me, okay? I know Max is bad for me and I’m trying to cope and move on. But it’s really fucking hard because I gave him everything and now it’s just poof! Like I never existed.” Tears were spilling out your eyes at that point, mascara smudged and everything.
Sarah rose and pulled you in for a tight hug. “Shh, Y/n, it’s okay. I’m sorry you have to go through this. I just don’t want you to do anything stupid and get hurt again,” she cooed.
You reached for a tissue and blew your nose. “Oh please,” you sassed with your nose all congested, “How much more stupid can this get?”
“Uh, have you met JJ?”
----------------------------------------------
I know I know!! This is a year late. But I got the sudden urge to start writing again. Hope you enjoyed this lil update. i’m gonna really try and finish this series bc tbh it’s prob my favorite.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
everyday i keep coming back to your blog to see if you’ve updated your fake boyfriend series bc i just love it so much haha, you’re honestly such an amazing writer! i hope you have a lovely day!
Thank youuu 🥺🥺 and im drafting the next part rn, hopefully ill have it up in the next few days!!
You’re a Kook Princess who has everything you ever wanted... until your handsome Kook Prince dumps you for a hot new fling. To save your reputation, you bribe the one person he hates the most, JJ Maybank, to pretend to be your boyfriend for the summer. All’s fair in love and war. But where do you draw that line when you’re suddenly wishing your fake boyfriend is your real one?
note: slight mention of panic attack
If there was anything you learned about JJ that Friday, it was that he was the absolute worse at sticking to the plan.
For one, he spent so much time looking for the tennis courts, instead of following your clearly written out instructions, that he ended up being late altogether to pick you up. What was supposed to be a grand gesture turned into you sitting on the front steps, while the sun was near done setting, waiting for stupid JJ while everyone else had already left.
“What the hell took you so long?!” you scolded, slamming the truck door shut in annoyance once he finally showed up.
“This place is confusing as hell! I kept having to make loops. It is called Figure Eight for a reason,” he tried to justify, pulling out of the lot.
“JJ I texted you specific instructions on how to get here!” you groused, rubbing your temple, “Anyways, it’s fine, whatever. Let’s just hurry home so I can get ready. My house is just a little bit up that way.”
“Yeah, uh, about that,” JJ mentioned sheepishly, keeping his eyes on the road, “I kinda have to help Pope and Poppa Heyward with something right now. It will only take an hour tops! I’ll just meet you at the party after I’m done.”
You groaned loudly, face-palming yourself. “JJ what the hell! I told you specifically to cancel your plans tonight. It was supposed to be our debut!”
“I did! I just,” he scratched the back of his neck, “kinda broke one of their carts this afternoon, so I have to help them fix it for tomorrow. I think they’re catering your little brunch thingy.”
“How did you even break the cart to begin with?!”
He hid his face from your dagger-eyes and admitted in a low voice, “I, uh, tried to surf on it down a hill when they weren’t looking.”
You had to fight the urge to smack him upside the head, but you didn’t want to risk him veering off the road. Lucky bastard.
“Fine,” you grumbled, “Just make sure you’re on time to the party.” You then eyed his outfit up and down. Even in the little sunlight that emitted from outside, you could tell it was all dirty from his day activities. “And please change into something a little nicer,” you added, “These Kooks would run you to the ground with that on.”
JJ dropped you off at your house and sped away as you unlocked the door into a near empty house. Looks like it would just be you and Alfred for dinner.
Your parents were headed off to the mainland for some business convention. Thankfully, your presence was not needed which saved you an entire day of pretending to be a perfect obedient daughter. It was an exhausting act.
Most teens your age would kill for a night alone, but after countless nights sleeping isolated in a big empty house, it got old and depressing. Most of the time, you’d sleep over at Sarah’s for some kind of company. You were always welcomed at the Camerons’.
Greeting Alfred your usual hello at the foyer, you darted upstairs to wash off and get ready with the little time you had left. The aroma of filet mignon and freshly seasoned veggies filled the house air.
“Oh and Alfred,” you called out over the intricate metal banister, “It’ll just be me eating tonight, so just set the table for one please.”
“Miss Y/n, your friend is not coming?” he asked with hints of concern. You just shook your head with a sad smile. “No, he had to run last minute.”
Alfred gave you a curt nod, making way back into the kitchen while you dashed into the bathroom.
—————————————————
Instead of throwing JJ straight into the shark’s tank (even though, given his already poor track record, you strongly contemplated throwing him to literal sharks), you decided it was best to ease him into the whole boyfriend role.
You figured he’d be more in touch with his aura if you invited him to a Kook party first— which was exactly where you were, furiously texting him where on earth he was.
It was already ten o’clock. The party started hours ago, and he was nowhere to be found. An hour with Pope your ass!
Flopping onto the giant living room couch in Billy Irvine’s mansion, you frowned amongst the throng of drunk privileged kids. Around you, the Glossy Posse was gossiping with other Kooks about some of the summer newcomers while sleazy guys from out of town tried to grab their attention. It never worked.
“So y/n,” Chloe asked next to you on the couch, “I have some great news! It’s no secret that you need a date to the all the fundraiser events, and I might just have one for you! My cousin, Gerald, is coming into town next week, so I can totally set you guys up!”
She proceeded to show you pictures on her phone of a lanky tall guy with discolored hair and a creepy smile. You resorted to taking a gulp of your drink to hide your horrified expression. “Thanks, but, uh, no thanks. I actually have a date already,” you informed, typing away heatedly at your phone for JJ to arrive that instant or so help you.
“Ooh, who is it?” Ivy nosily chimed in at the mention of you finally having a date. From the couch over, you also saw Anne-Marie and Warren lean their heads closer to get the scoop.
Jeez, were people really that interested in your love life?
“It’s-”
Before you could reveal the name, a loud ‘ding’ went off from your phone followed by a text from JJ to alert you that he was out front. “Oh! He’s actually here right now,” you announced, hopping up from your seat to collect your very problematic date.
“You’re late, again!” you scolded to the blond standing all gloomy at the front of the stone curved driveway. He changed into a nicer grey long-sleeve with khaki shorts and his signature red snapback, much to your relief. It didn’t quite match with your intricate white romper, but it would do for the time being.
“The guard wouldn’t let me in the gate! I ended up having to sneak through one of the fences,” JJ explained. You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous excuse. “Then why didn’t you just call me to let you in?” you pointed out.
“It was more fun this way,” he peskily grinned, earning himself a smack on the arm. The guy was impossible. “Ow!” he whined, rubbing the spot. Ignoring his complaints, you seized his hand and led him inside. It was about time!
The foyer flashed with various-colored LED lights while thundering rap music echoed from basically every corner of the house. All around, eyes gawked at you stepping through the Victorian-style entryway with a Pogue of all people. It was like walking into a cave of bats.
“Anyways,” you began, disregarding all the probing eyes, “This is Billy Irvine’s place. It’s the nicest house on the Eight. His parents are out of town right now, so we’re celebrating the Glossy Posse’s birthdays.”
It alway was a coincidence to you how all three of them had birthdays on back-to-back days. Witchcraft, honestly.
“Those bitches?” JJ grimaced at the mention of his sworn female enemies, “Ew why? They hate the Pogues.”
“Just shut up and suck it up. Here,” you grabbed a glass from the champagne tower in the middle of the spacious room, “Have a drink to get your mind off it.”
“Champagne? What the hell is this, England?” he yelped, taking a swig. Rolling your eyes, you hoped the alcohol would alleviate his irritability for the night. Fortunately, the blaring music was enough to drown out his constant bickering.
“Now put your arm around me! It’s time to make our rounds,” you demanded. He obliged and you turned on your best lovestruck game-face, giving him the grand tour of the mansion.
Billy’s mom was also one of the important people of the Island Club, so you had been going over there ever since you were nine being that your moms were friends. Still, you were always amazed by the extravagance of their house. You could tell JJ was also in shock of it all too.
It looked like a castle with two grand marble staircases circling the front with a tall vintage Tiffany chandelier hanging over everything. The floors were the shiniest white marble even with hundreds of teenagers recklessly dancing and slipping all over it.
“Damn, so this is how the other side lives,” JJ commented, marveling at how the LED lights reflected off the diamonds on the chandelier.
He slid his hand down to your waist as you stood closer to his side, taking a whiff of his teakwood cologne. Deep down, it was nice to have someone to attend parties with you, even if it was fake and with JJ.
You took him up the right staircase where plastered kids— some you recognized from school, some just in town for the summer— stumbled up and down the stairs or sloppily made out while pinned to the side walls. Realistically, it didn’t seem that off-brand to JJ’s party scene.
“We’re only staying an hour right?” JJ reminded in your ear as you approached the open bar upstairs. Yes, the Irvine’s had a literal bar in their second level.
“Yes, grumpy!”
“Do you know if Sarah and John B are coming?” JJ continued to question. You settled on top of a retro bar stool as he leaned against the Irvine’s prized rustic bar.
“No,” you answered, “Sarah doesn’t come to these because Topper’s here. And she hates Kooks.”
“She’s the smarter one of you two!” JJ shouted among the loud music. You shook your head and whacked him again, but lightly this time. Seemed that would be you guy’s thing— hitting.
Even in their inebriated states, Kooks were still staring at you like you had grown a third arm. Which, honestly, was what being with JJ felt like half the time. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the Glossy Posse and Warren making their way to you with either wide or curious eyes.
Oh boy.
“Y/n!” they exclaimed, shoving through the crowd. You matched their seemingly gleeful expressions, though you knew deep down they were judging you hard.
“You must be y/n’s date,” Ivy stated without much of a formal introduction.
“Aren’t you that Pogue from the Boneyard that always tries to hit on us?” Chloe brought up once she got a better look at JJ’s face. You snorted, but no one heard you.
You were slightly worried JJ would take their snarky comments the wrong way and lash back, but his cocky grin still laid proudly on his face as he held his hand out to your girl friends. “Name’s JJ. And yeah, I’m y/n’s new man.”
New man. Well, that was certainly a title. All of the Glossy Posse’s threaded eyebrows shot up at the word.
“Y/n,” Anne-Marie said in amazement, “You didn’t tell us you were dating again.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to keep it kinda lowkey,” you lied, signaling JJ to put his arm around you again.
Expecting your friends to stick up their nose at him or give you guys condemnatory looks, you were surprised to find they were more stunned than snobby. Intrigued, you caught them eyeing JJ up and down as if he possessed some kind of magical charm.
From behind the group, you saw Warren trying to stick his hand out at JJ to introduce himself as the girls did kinda take center stage earlier, shielding him out. “Don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Warren, Warren Van Doren.”
JJ had to hold back a laugh at the sound of his rhyming name. So immature.
“Hey man, I’m JJ. Nice to meet you,” he greeted, shaking his hand, “Wait a sec, aren’t you that quarterback that got in that fight at regionals last year?”
Warren smiled sheepishly and looked away. “Yeah, that was me.”
You remembered that fight. The video of it actually went viral for like a week. Warren was a very nice guy, but pissed of, he was an animal. He pummeled the shit out of some of other players during that game. The topic of fighting seemed to bond the two boys as they unknowingly drifted away in their own conversation. Thank God, you were glad that at least one of the boys there would be friendly towards JJ.
“Wow, look what the cat dragged in,” Chloe announced, gesturing towards the stairway. All four of your heads turned to see Max and Anya parade up to the top step linked to one another.
That was the cue.
Furtively, you nudged at JJ’s side, interrupting his football conversation. You gave him an alerting look that said ‘look like you’re in love with me ASAP’ and he quickly enveloped his arm around you to pull you close.
Given the fact that you and JJ hardly knew each other, much less touched, it was a very ungraceful and awkward gesture. Even Warren shot you both a weird look. Either way, you figured it would be perfected after going at it a few times.
Just as the Hollywood couple sauntered in to the packed bar area, JJ dipped his face closer to yours. It was a nice touch to the act. He started whispering some stupid joke in your ear that you could hardly make out among the music and chatter, but you went along with it anyway, playfully slapping at his chest. He even placed his snapback on your head backwards. You almost yelled at him for ruining your hair, but for the sake of the show you were putting on, you pretended it was the cutest thing.
You tried not to look at Max as he passed, as you didn’t want to make things so obvious. But in the split second you did glance his way, his mouth flew agape. In that moment, you knew you had him right in the palm of your hand from twenty feet away. The evil laugh cackled inside your head while you raked your hands through JJ’s hair. It was surprisingly soft.
For the next few minutes, you could feel Max’s stare bore into you back as you leaned closer to JJ, kissing up his jawline and cheek.
“Damn, y/n, didn’t know you felt like this about me,” JJ teased.
“Shut up. I’m giving them a show,” you hissed with an infatuated smile to mask your threats.
“They’re gone now,” JJ noted lowly in your ear. You both detached like repelling magnets.
Fortunately, the posse and Warren dispersed among the crowd while you and JJ acted out your little PDA scene— it was probably from discomfort, if you were being honest. You did make sure not to hold anything back while you were draped all over JJ.
“Is that it?” JJ droned, back to his normal whiny self, “Am I done? Can we leave?”
Clicking your tongue, you shook your head, but with a grin this time. “Yes, you idiot, we can leave now.”
“Finally!”
JJ’s hand crept to your lower back as you both weaved through the mass of people to the exit. Before you could make it halfway down the staircase, however, you heard a rumbling behind you that stopped both your tracks. Warren’s six-four gigantic self was rummaging down the stairs, leaving booms in his wake.
“JJ! JJ!” he called out, grabbing hold of your fake boyfriend’s arm, “JJ dude, you gotta check out this new game system Billy has upstairs in the game room. You can play live Madden!”
“What?!” JJ’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas as Warren tugged you both back up the stairs with his giant football-player muscles.
“Dude it’s fucking sick! You gotta try it out,” Warren kept insisting. You knew JJ wouldn’t be able to resist. His eyes were practically glowing with excitement when he turned back to you as if to ask for some kind of approval.
“Okay, I’m just going to stay for one game,” he swore but you were a hundred-and-ten percent sure he’d be hooked and you could stay for much longer.
“Knock yourself out, Maybank,” you responded with a knowing smile, shooing him off to some depth of the Irvine’s enormous home. When he disappeared, you took the liberty to go search for your friends and finally enjoy the party for yourself.
As you predicted, one game turned into thirty real quick. It was well past midnight and JJ was still buried away somewhere doing who knows what. You didn’t mind. Warren was very responsible and you trusted him to take care of your date.
Plus, it gave you enough time to take rounds of various colored jello shots with Billy, dance on Mrs. Irvine’s countertops with the birthday girls, and devour the four-tiered tiramisu cake with fake-puking Barbie doll toppers that you helped pick out at the bakery.
When it got around one thirty, you grew a little concerned about JJ’s whereabouts so you sent him a quick text just to make sure he was okay and not shoving his head down a toilet. Your phone chimed back instantly—
Im jus fine y/n!!! One mor game! I almos beat War Ins Ass! Fuckin kwarter back!
Oh yeah, he was definitely gone. You texted your family’s driver to come by in about thirty minutes to make sure he’d get home safely. Then, you proceeded to dig in to your third slice of cake. Unlike the rest of your friends, you embraced the joy that was carbs— especially when you were drunk and there was chocolate involved.
JJ came downstairs a few minutes later and found where you were sitting on the couch surrounded by your circle of friends. Even amid the dark yet colorful beaming lights, his hair was still its usual sweaty mess with eyes a tad droopy, indicating just how drunk he was.
“Y/n! There’s my baby!”
He walked up and collapsed right onto your lap, tossing a dangly arm around you. You kept his snapback on for the entire night, assuming your hair was probably a bird’s nest underneath it. Everyone around seemed amused at the sight, and a few girls from school even began asking how you two started dating.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
Well, that was until your thigh circulation began ceasing due to JJ’s bony ass on it. You immediately demanded that you switch places with him, and he sloppily obliged. The throng around you giggled, intrigued by the new lovey-dovey couple. Secretly, you ate up the attention and knew JJ did too.
He was in the middle of telling everyone a dumb Boneyard party story when Max and Anya entered the living room premises. They looked like they were fixing to leave. Your date felt you tense a little in his lap and caught on to your sudden judder.
Boldly, JJ made direct eye contact with Max and threw him one of those ‘what’s up’ nods. Then, out of nowhere, in his completely trashed state, JJ cupped both of your cheeks and planted a very brazen kiss on your lips for everyone to see. Shutting your eyes, you heard a few whistles from the crowd around you, especially when he, very obviously, added his tongue to the mix.
JJ was a good kisser, you had to admit. It quite literally, took your breath away when he pulled back. Biting your lip, you mimicked his shit-eating grin while he pressed his perspiration-filled forehead on yours. It was a huge acne-hazard just waiting to happen. But, like the snapback, you didn’t care. It was the most thrilling thing you had done in months.
“Don’t look now, but Vega and his girl have their jaws dropped to the floor behind you,” he muttered in your ear. You giggled and held onto him closer, leaning your head on his chest.
It was probably be best fifteen hundred bucks you had ever spent.
—————————————————
The next morning was your mom’s weekly Saturday brunch. By default, you showed up an hour early to help greet the guests, frequently checking your watch and phone to see when JJ would arrive.
You had a tennis tournament earlier that morning, however, you didn’t even bother making your fake boyfriend go. After the events of last night, you knew he’d be too hungover in the morning and wouldn’t wake up in time for it. He was getting to be very predictable.
At t-minus five minutes until the brunch started, everyone had already made their way into the ballroom. That left just you waiting in the lobby area for your date. The look on your face was just about ready to kill JJ whenever he walked through the door. You also didn’t see Sarah and John B arrive either, so you assumed they would be a no-show yet again.
About a minute past noon, the blond sauntered past the doors wearing a black suit that looked two sizes to big for him with hideous shoulder pads. You presumed it was his dad’s old one. He also had on jet black sunglasses to mask the grogginess from the party, but it was pretty evident he looked and felt like shit.
“You’re late again!” you hissed through gritted teeth, snatching his hand like he was an uncontrollable child. Maybe you should invest in a leash and collar for him since he could never get his attendance right.
“What do you mean? You said noon,” he yawned, unfazed at your irritation.
“The brunch starts at noon!” you jeered, “That means you have to show up early!”
“Well you failed to mention those rules,” he tried to bicker back, but you flashed him one of your bitch-looks before he could go any further. That had him shriveling at the sight.
“Whatever, just hurry up and let’s get seated,” you ordered, leading him through the majestic looking double doors, “And take off those sunglasses!”
Much to your dismay, the doors made a very loud creaking noise when they opened. Just about everyone did a double-take to see you arrive late and with a woozy-looking boy shoving sunglasses in his suit pocket.
Eyes were glued on you while judgmental whispers filled the already tense air. There was a small churn in your stomach as you weaved through the round tables. Something was also gnawing at your brain, telling you that it was a terrible, terrible idea. You attempted to brush it aside, though, as you and JJ took your seats.
For some odd reason, the Glossy Posse didn’t show the same enthusiasm towards JJ like the did at the party. They were back to their pretentious ways— you figured it was probably just their hangover attitude.
On the other hand, Warren happily greeted JJ when he sat down, exchanging one of those typical ‘bro’ handshakes. They started chatting on about the previous night while you tried to make small talk with the girls. Unfortunately, they were still being short with you and were, very obviously, throwing looks at JJ, along with their dates.
Glancing to your parents’ table, they didn’t look like they cared too much about your situation, having just flown in from their trip. They were too engrossed in entertaining their friends to really pay you any mind. Sometimes you were grateful that they were oblivious to some things. When you look over at the Vegas, however, Mr. and Mrs. Vega both sent you a disapproving look. The other families followed.
You couldn’t help but feel like you were in over your head at that point. Was it a mistake bringing JJ to this event?
The servers came out and made their rounds at the tables, setting bowls of water in front of everyone.
“Thank God, I’m starving,” JJ piped, taking his dessert spoon to sip water from the finger bowl.
“JJ,” you yelled-whispered as guests continued to stare.
“What?” he chided back with an attitude, completely unaware of his surroundings.
“The water is for your fingers.”
His face shot up from the bowl and scanned the room at people dipping their fingers into their respective bowls. “Oh shit,” he sputtered as your entire table tried to hide their snorts.
When the food finally came out, it didn’t really get any better. Baked chicken was on the menu and, well, JJ was the only one in the room who didn’t use a fork and knife. Everyone stared at him incredulously as he used his hands to gobble up his plate. Though, the boy didn’t seem to notice any of the baffled eyes.
Attempting to shield your red face, you continued to take tiny bites from your food, hoping the next hour would go by fast.
You hoped too soon.
As soon as JJ was done eating, he let out a loud belt to where the tables around you could hear. Warren high-fived him. At least someone got a kick out of it. You, along with the rest of the guests, had nothing but revolt on your faces.
Once the plates were cleared, the servers brought out creme brûlée for dessert. You were grateful it was something semi-clean to eat. JJ seemed to get a knack out of all the food. He even leaned over to you with his mouth full and muttered, “This food is fantastic! My compliments to the chef.”
You half-smiled back in embarrassment and took a spoon-full of your dessert. Thankfully, your mom waltzed over when you were half-way through to ask for your help carrying in the posters and stands from the lobby that displayed all the charity and donation information.
Immediately, you rose and scattered out, away from all the the dense room.
At the front, you began picking up the easel stands to bring inside until you spotted the jet-black locks of the last person you wanted to run into that afternoon. You almost dropped the large items in your hands when he came up to you.
“So, I see you brought Maybank here. Looks like he’s really enjoying himself in there,” Max commented dryly beside you. Mrs. Vega must have asked him for a hand as well.
You winced at the oozing criticism in his voice. It was the first time you had spoken to him one-on-one since the breakup.
”Yeah, we’re, uh, kind of together now,” you mentioned, lugging a display. He grabbed the two remaining and rushed to keep up with you, following you back in.
Out of nowhere, he let out disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, y/n, you and Maybank?”
Taken aback by his brashness, you stopped right before the ballroom doors, frowning. “Yeah,” you shot back sternly, “Why not? I get along with him fine.”
“Doesn’t look like it to me. The guy’s a total tool. I’ve told you that from the beginning. Trust me, I know.”
“Know what? What’s good for me?” you pressed, growing more and more exasperated at the sound of his deep and raspy voice.
It was sexy, no doubt, but just the things that were coming out of his mouth made you want to slap him silly. How dare he prance up to you in his gorgeous light blue Armani suit and tell you what’s good for you!
“I just know who you are, y/n,” he went on calmly, with not an ounce of anger present in his tone, “And JJ’s just not a good guy for you.”
You were seeping with outrage at that point. Hiking in a breath, you spoke with the speckles of tranquility you had left in you. “Well I appreciate your concern, though I hardly understand why you have any for me. But we broke up, Max. You completely lost the right to tell me any of that.”
With that, you furiously stomped into the brunch and set the displays at the front for your mom. Max looked dumbstruck as he trailed behind. But you didn’t care.
“Everything okay? Did something happen with Vega?” JJ asked when you got back to your seat. You remained silent. It was the only way to keep yourself from screaming.
It was all too much— the piercing stares, the messy eating, Max.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you informed to JJ as he listened to another one of Warren’s football stories, “And then we’re leaving.”
Before he could respond, you were already racing to the bathroom as fast as your Jimmy Choo wedges could take you.
You needed air. And fast.
Bursting through the bathroom door, you heaved yourself into the biggest stall and flopped down on the toilet seat, taking in deep breaths to calm yourself. It didn’t help much. The room was still twirling like you were on the Graviton at a carnival. Too nauseous from it all, you didn’t even care that you were ruining your new white Valentino dress.
You just wanted to hurl inside the antique-decorated bathroom but couldn’t. It was miserable. But at least the bathroom was empty.
All the seeming success of last night crumbled away with every disapproving look or whisper of the guests. And then Max— that fucking asshole. Your head was thumping endlessly as you felt the stress knots crawl up your spine.
What were you thinking? Maybe you were in over your head. No one was believing it. Not for a second.
Even JJ was terrible at playing along. You should’ve known it was just wishful thinking. You knew you had to throw in the towel and told yourself you would call it off once you found some way to stop the hot tears that were streaming down your made-up cheeks.
As you felt your breathing start to normalize, you slowly lifted from the toilet seat and smoothened out your dress. When the bathroom door slammed open against the wall, you immediately fell back down, wanting to avoid any form of human interaction for the rest of your life.
Titters and snickers echoed the air as two girls stumbled in, mid-conversation. They didn’t seem to notice you in the stall at all. Thank God.
“Would you believe y/n? Bringing that dirty Pogue here? She’s gone insane!” A nasally voice spoke by the sinks.
You scrunched your nose, trying to catch a glimpse of their shoes from the opening underneath the stall. You nearly puked. Nameless brand heels? Unacceptable.
“I know! He’s so disgusting and that suit is just repulsive! Does she not have an ounce of embarrassment?” the other one added.
You didn’t recognize their voices, but assumed they probably went to your school by the way they knew you and JJ. A part of you wanted to charge out of the stall and drag their pitiful selves to the ground. But seeing as you were just recovering from a near panic attack, you didn’t have the energy. And they didn’t deserve your breath.
Nevertheless, they still went on.
“Ever since Vega dumped her for California girl, she’s completely gone off the rails. First the hair change and now she’s dating a Pogue like Sarah Cameron is. It’s so pathetic!”
“Seriously, train wreck of the year if you ask me.”
Train wreck? Pathetic? You’ll show them what pathetic is! Especially with those god-awful shoes. Do they have an ounce of embarrassment showing up here with that kind of atrocity?
You were seconds away from emerging from your ashes to put them in their place. But, lucky for them, they escaped before you could come out of confinement.
Huffing, you stormed out of the stall and towards the mirrors to fix yourself. God forbid you’d ever let anyone see you with smeared mascara!
Dabbing a wet cloth on your cheeks to soothe out the redness, you heard the creak of the door opening behind you and immediately tossed it into a bin. You pretended to fix your hair. Fortunately, the redness faded to a soft pink to look like blush.
Anya strolled in the bathroom behind you. Ugh, the cherry on top of the cake.
You faked a tight smile at her. She threw a cheery one at you, walking up the sink next to yours to toss up her bouncy, voluminous hair. “So, I thought you said that guy out there wasn’t you boyfriend,” she pointed out, not taking her eyes off her own reflection.
“Oh, psh, well you know,” you sputtered, not expecting the sudden inquisition, “One thing led to another that night at the Boneyard and it just kinda… happened.”
It was the first real conversation you had with her, and you wanted to hold your breath at the awkwardness. Anya nodded at your answer, puckering her lips slyly. “I just think it’s cute that you’re trying to make Max jealous.”
You almost did a double take. It was so subtle and smooth, her comment almost flew right over your head. “Excuse me?” you shot back, turning to the blonde-haired home-wrecker.
She didn’t even flinch a muscle at your snub expression, just continued to ogle at herself. It was menacing. Evil really did take form in Anya Carmichael.
“Oh, did I need to spell it out for you?” she blinked, “Y/n, you’ve been out of the picture. If you think showing up with that god-awful guy in his dad’s raggedy suit is gonna change Max’s mind about you, I assure you it won’t work.”
She crinkled her eyes in a hateful smile.
What was with people and their audacity that afternoon? Whatever was in their water, you were not about to have any of it. No one spoke to you like that.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said blandly, wanting to get under her skin.
“Yes you do,” she snarled back, placing both hands on the sink in a threatening manner, “Look. Max and I are together now. You need to get that in your tiny pea-brain head. Do not play dumb with me. I see you looking over at him every five minutes. Get. Over. It.”
“Like I said,” you responded back in a fake-innocent tone just to push her buttons some more, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Anya. I think all the hairspray is really getting to your head.”
Two can play that game.
She narrowed her almond eyes at you and straightened up proudly. Even though she was way taller than you in her six-inch heels, you still stood your ground, blinking up at her tauntingly. At least your swanky parents taught you that much.
She scoffed. “Give it up, seriously. Using that guy to try to get back at your ex is just pathetic. Max was right about you. You’re just a shallow virgin with a handbag.”
With that, she tossed her hair behind her shoulder and strutted out the door. Your blood was boiling, having half a mind to go out there and rip the bottled-blonde right off her head. You should’ve known it was all an act!
Fuming, you treaded back to the brunch table, your face doing a complete one-eighty once you stepped through the doors. A lady never showed her seething anger underneath.
JJ spotted you and promptly stood up, snatching your purse, and getting ready to leave.
“Sit,” you demanded, pushing him down by the shoulder so his ass plopped back firmly on the chair. The look of utter shock flashed on his face, but he just took it.
“I’m feeling better now. We’re staying,” you informed as if you were a commander at war. You glanced over at the Vegas’ table where Anya hung her arm proudly on Max’s bicep as he made some joke to his table. She threw over a glare at you. No one but you noticed.
You draped an arm on one of JJ’s ridiculously large shoulder pads, nuzzling your nose to his neck. He was still as confused as ever though, but still went along with it, digging his fork into your half-eaten dessert which he later finished.
If Anya wanted a war, you’ll give her one. May the best bitch win.
---------------------------------------
note: YES SHE WENT THERE! you kno i had to stir in anya- y/n drama!!!
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yes we love a slow burn fake boyfriend story! it’s so different from all the stories ive read here because jj is actually interested in another character besides the reader lmao it’s so realistic and good 🥺
Awww 🥺🥺 tysm!! I wanted to add a lil *spice* to the story with him liking another girl 😝 And yeah, i plan to make it kinda slow-burny but w lotsa drama bc *hair flip* we all live for that lmao
Hello love! I just wanted to ay a few things. 1) You are an amazing writer!! 2) I haven’t read your other fics yet but I love Dirty Little Secret! 3) I hope you have an amazing day!
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You’re a Kook Princess who has everything you ever wanted... until your handsome Kook Prince dumps you for a hot new fling. To save your reputation, you bribe the one person he hates the most, JJ Maybank, to pretend to be your boyfriend for the summer. All’s fair in love and war. But where do you draw that line when you’re suddenly wishing your fake boyfriend is your real one?
Twirling your spoon inside your half-eaten soup, you slumped back in your chair among the sea of tittering guests. It seemed everyone was having a fine and dandy time except for you. And you knew exactly the reason why.
It was Saturday afternoon brunch at the club, the first one to kickstart the summer-long fundraiser led by your mother. Unfortunately, she was too busy picking out floral centerpieces during the week to remind you that it was a date event. The idea didn’t even cross your mind until you showed up to a table set for seven, and it was far too late at that point.
So, you were stuck with Glossy Posse who all sat smitten with their stellar dates. Two of the guys were six-three prep-school boys from out of town and the other was the star quarterback at your school—Warren Van Doren.
He was beautiful. Even gave Max a run for his money. You remembered in middle school when he worked up the nerve to ask you to the Valentines Day dance. It was all buried in the pre-Max era so pretty much everyone had forgotten, even yourself, until you came across his chestnut locks perfectly done up in a swish above his sculpted face at the brunch table. You cursed yourself for not snatching him up as your rebound before Anne-Marie beat you to the punch.
Under the table, you were viciously texting Sarah who was, no surprise, nowhere to be found that afternoon. You peered across to her empty place setting the table beside you in anger. She promised you she would come! Instead, you caught her just waking up at noon in John B’s Chateau apologizing profusely over text. You even tried to reach Kiara who declined before you could even finish typing and ignored your triple-texts of pleas.
Useless! Huffing, you threw your phone back into your purse and took another sip of mimosa. At least you had that to get you through couples’ paradise. You swore some superior magical force was out to get you.
“So y/n, are you still going to Cabo with us next month?” Warren asked from across the table. You knew he was just trying to be nice and make you feel included because everyone heard you cancelled after the breakup. There was no point spending a week at a resort with all of Max’s friends.
“No,” you smiled weakly, “Decided to just stay home for the summer. Regionals are coming up too, so I gotta prepare for that.” You were referring to the dozens of tennis tournaments you signed up for in attempts to fill your time.
Warren nodded and tried to chat you up about tennis. He was always a sweet kid. Everyone on the Eight knew you were a kick-ass tennis player, always top of your school. You even came in second place at state last year. You tried to keep tennis on the low around friends, but Max loved to brag about how his girl was the next Serena Williams. Or at least, he used to.
The sound of chiming glass brought everyone to silence as Mrs. Vega stood proudly at the front of the ballroom to make her welcome announcement. Your mom stood about a foot behind her; they were both co-heads of the Island Club’s fundraiser committee. A royal honor for her and a royal pain-in-the-ass for you, now that you had to attend the events alone.
“Welcome everyone, to our first brunch of the summer!” Mrs. Vega greeted in her smooth and polished voice. She continued babbling on about the upcoming summer events at the club to support hunger relief— a spiel you heard about a million times from your mother during dinner.
Mrs. Vega looked like she was about to have tea with the queen in her matching salmon tweed skirt and jacket combo. She was always dressed to the nines for every event. Even a quick stop to the grocery store, though she never touched a single pot in their kitchen. You were always her favorite girl ever since she led your cotillion lessons back in the day. But all that seemed to change when she joined her son on the one-way train straight to Anya-ville.
“And now,” the uppity woman at the mahogany podium continued, “I would like to give a special warm welcome to one of our newest young members of the Island Club, she is staying with my family and this summer from Calabasas, California, please welcome Anya Carmichael!”
Everyone broke out clapping giddily as the country club’s newest sweetheart emerged from her seat, striding to the front of the room like she had just won ‘best actress.’ She even had on an aquamarine sundress like you did, but somehow hers seemed brighter and hugged her figure better. The three gutless guys at your table looked mesmerized at the bounce of her flouncy voluminous curls alone. And Max’s face looked like he just won a million bucks when you glanced over.
You took a giant gulp of your drink. Jealousy was an ugly color on you, but you couldn’t help it. The only thing keeping you at ease was Ivy’s scolding look at her date, who nearly choked on his water at the sight of her threatening bitch-face. You had to bite back a laugh.
Throughout Anya’s speech, you decided to stuff yourself with yellow cake, not caring if you looked like a hog. You wished your friends would join you at least, but the Glossy Posse avoided carbs like the Black Plague. The rest of the guests looked awed at Anya’s ability to formulate the most generic sentences.
Two more hours. Two more hours until you could finally crawl out of the hell hole and back into bed where you wanted to be. You shoved another fork full of cake in your mouth and drowned out the noise as best you could.
The next morning, your parents dragged you out of bed and to the golf course at nine o’clock sharp. It was so last-minute, you only had an hour to style your hair! Instead of it being flipped out all seventies-posh, you settled on leaving it natural. You presumed it would just be your dad’s old fart investor friends at the course. But, of course, you presumed wrong.
You were standing with your parents at hole three waiting for the rest to show when two golf carts pulled up next to yours on the side. Lo and behold, Max and Anya emerged from the second one making you want to jump right back into your cart and speed off for the hills at the sight of them.
Why were they here? Some mystical force was definitely out to get you. There was no way!
Catching on to the appalled look on your face, your mom placed a firm hand on your back as if to say ‘control yourself.’ No promises there, mother. It was only the devil and his pet hell-hound.
Two wrinkly old men and their twenty-something-year-old wives hopped out of the first cart along with Max’s parents.
It as another detail you had regrettably forgotten— your dad and Max’s dad were business partners for some hotel resort chain. Ergo, you had to attend all their events to pose as a perfect daughter to complete your parents’ cookie-cutter family image. It was a selling point for the investors, your dad promised. To you, it was bullshit.
Things were easier when you and Max were together. All the dinners, tee times, and yacht rides your parents put on seemed to fly by effortlessly with him by your side. But now, you were left glaring at the crowd around you in agony.
The rest of the afternoon droned on slower than you’d imagined. It seemed time was only going in reverse. All the business men were fascinated with Anya’s stories of modeling in California and their wives glowered at her enviously as if they felt the need to compete with a sixteen year old girl. Well, to be fair, Anya didn’t look sixteen.
On the bright side, everyone seemed to ignore you and not pester you with questions to which you had to come up with some fake witty response. It was the one and only time you were okay with being forgotten. Like brunch, you stayed quiet and waited for everyone to swing before going at it yourself. It still didn’t stop you from brooding the entire time, though, especially when Max did the whole arm wrap thing to teach Anya how to swing.
Max was an excellent golfer. He taught you everything you knew about the sport. It use to be your thing— you were the Serena Williams and Tiger Woods of Figure Eight. You sighed drearily at the memory and took another perfect swing into the distance when it was your turn.
Everyone behind you was too wrapped up in business talk or Anya’s hometown stories to even care. You wished someone would wack you with the golf club instead.
Thankfully, the investors had to hurry back to the mainland after the game. It saved you about an hour of the post-game chit chat, so you were able to peacefully escape. You begrudgingly bid everyone goodbye. When you got to Anya, she unexpectedly pulled you into a hug, and you had never felt more suffocated.
“So glad we’re going to be seeing more of each other!” she piped as you awkwardly patted her bony back, “I just know we’re going to be great friends!”
The thought alone made you want to puke out the scone you had for breakfast. You nodded in fake enthusiasm and dashed into your father’s SUV before your cover was blown. It was by far the most miserable weekend you had ever had.
Once you got home, you trekked into the kitchen where you mom was setting up lunch. Plopping on one of the island stools, you threw her an annoyed look as she diced the veggies.
“Mom, can we not hang out with the Vegas anymore? You know after what happened with me and Max, it just makes the whole thing really uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry sweetie, but it’s out of our hands. Isabel and I are on fundraiser committee this year and Amancio and your father have that joint venture. They’re going to be working very closely with each other until the end of the year at least,” she explained, much to your sheer disappointment, “Why don’t you bring a friend along to these events then? Perhaps that could make things less awkward.”
Something clicked in your head the moment she said that. A friend. That was what you needed. The little devil on your shoulder was sly stroking its chin as the thought of a certain shaggy blonde popped into your head.
-----------------------------------------
Strolling about the sidewalks of the town shopping strip, you tossed your newly touched-up hair and inspected your ballerina-shaped nails. You decided to go with an emerald-green color this time. Boris said it was the color of luck... and mischief.
Speaking of, while he was doing your hair, you pitched the idea of recruiting a fake boyfriend for the sake of making Max jealous. You weren’t necessarily aiming to win back your ex, though the thought of him crawling on his knees for you did give you a source of power. It was more to show that you were better off without him. And to save face from the number of occasions you had to attend for the sake of your appearance-obsessed family.
“That is a spectacular idea!” Boris agreed when you informed him of the evil-genius plan you formulated the night before, “I say drag them for all they’re worth!”
You weren’t a hundred-percent dead set on it, but you were strongly considering. Who would it hurt? You were tired of looking like a dumped fool in front of your friends, and since you cancelled all your summer trip plans, you had plenty of free time on your hands.
Passing a number of trivial shops on the shopping strand, you were headed for the boutiques until you spotted a certain head of luscious yet terribly disheveled blond hair in the surf shop just before the street of clothing stores. It almost seemed like fate.
You peered further in the shop window as he ogled at some surfboard displayed in a giant glass container. He was wearing one of his usual chopped sleeve shirts with a pair of shorts that hung low on his hips. You had no idea how he walked in those without tripping.
Not realizing you were indeed staring, you quickly snapped yourself back into reality before he grabbed for a tub of wax and stood in a small line to check out. He was about to leave! Your muscles instantaneously zoomed into the shop door, just as the cashier handed him the receipt.
It was now or never. You lightly tapped him on the shoulder with two fingers.
“Ahh!” JJ’s klutzy shoulder jolted at the sudden contact. He whisked around to meet eyes with you, and it was obvious you were the last person he expected to see on a Monday afternoon— inside a surf and sport shop of all places!
“Oh! It’s just you y/n,” he rasped, “How’s my sweetheart doing?” He added a teasing emphasis on the pet name.
Your nose scrunched in disgust at it. Leave it to him to be so cringey twenty-four seven. You had no clue how on earth you were going to pull this off, but took the leap of faith anyways. Your reputation depended on it.
“Yeah, about that actually,” you sheepishly fiddled with the ends of your fresh curls, “I wanted to talk to you. I kind of need you again.”
“Huh?” JJ responded. You let out an annoyed huff.
Well, this ought to be a challenge. You noticed the nosy cashier leaning his shaggy head any further into your conversation, so you briskly pulled JJ into a secluded back section of the store. Would it kill people to give you some privacy? Sheesh.
You glanced back behind the register to see the guy was still giving you a weird look and your threw him a glare to mind his own business. He quickly obliged and hid in the back.
No one could withstand your bitch face.
“Hello y/n?” JJ snapped his fingers, reminding you of his presence, “What the fuck is going on?”
Before proceeding, you shut your eyes and hiked in a breath in hopes of regaining any ounce of dignity you had left. They fluttered back open in shame. JJ still looked as muddled as ever. “I need you to... pretend again.” You whispered the last part.
“Like to go on a date with you?”
“No,” you hissed and spoke again through gritted teeth, “Like to be my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend!” he repeated incredulously, eyebrows shooting for the moon.
“Shh! This is embarrassing enough already!” you warned, taking note of all the customers creeping by, “But yes. That. Just for a little while though. I need someone to accompany me to a few events so it’s not so awkward with Max and his new girlfriend.”
“Well...how long is a while?” he asked wearily.
“Like a month. Or at least til Midsummers, actually. That’s pretty important.”
Was JJ actually considering it? You couldn’t believe it was that easy!
“Uh yeah no,” he shot you down, much to your dismay and annoyance.
“Why not!” you stomped, sticking your chip up to him sternly.
“Uh, Kook conventions for an entire month? Yeah no thanks, I’ll pass. Why don’t you just ask one of the Kook guys to take you? At least one of them gotta be single! If you’re bold enough to ask me to do it, which by the way I’m never gonna let you live down, then you can ask one of them no problem,” he pointed out. You wanted to smack the living daylights out of him for his smart-ass comment but refrained.
“Come on!” you urged, as if your begging would have any kind of effect on him, “You’re the perfect person for the job! Did you see how pissed Max was at the Boneyard the other night? No one’s gonna get under his skin like you! And it won’t even be that bad. It’s free food and alcohol!”
You were hoping the boy could be moved by the promise of fancy dinners and drinks, but this was JJ you were dealing with. In the little time you spent with him you knew he was content with cheap beer and a half-ass burger. You needed a better bribe.
“No, nope, not a chance princess,” he said, refusing to budge, “One, I have a rep to maintain. And two, what do you think everyone will say when they see I’m chasing some Kook princess around like a puppy to go to fucking tea and crumpets!”
“It’s foie gras and mimosas you dimwit!” you corrected, crossing you arms. You contemplated adding on the fact that he’d be lucky to even be seen with you around town, but decided to hold back that fact for the sake of persuasion.
“Well whatever it is I want no part of it. Count me out of your frog legs and mimosas,” he said adamantly.
You pouted at his stubbornness, wanting to throw a hissy fit just to embarrass him. But, as you were scanning the store premises, your eyes zeroed-in on the surfboard on display. The one was checking out before you arrived.
“What if I buy you that?” you offered, pointing at the extravagant item hanging tall above the other boards.
“That thing? Psh, good luck! It’s a groveler. That shit’s like nine hundred dollars.”
“That’s it? Only nine hundred?”
He scoffed. “What do you mean ‘only nine hundred’?”
“Well, that’s like a third of my allowance,” you disclosed pondering on it for a bit before pressing him further, “I can make it happen if you agree to my terms. What do you say?”
JJ narrowed his eyes. “You Kooks are too spoiled for your own good! What the fuck? People are starving you know?”
“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, “I’ll be a little more charitable. How about I throw in an extra five-hundred in cash?”
His eyes bolted out of his head at the amount. “Five hundred? Are you fucking with me?”
Your brows furrowed. “No, I’m actually serious. I’m tired of seeing Max flaunt that bitch around like some trophy. And if you must know, now that he’s out of the picture, I cancelled all my trips with him. So I have a little more in savings.”
He sputtered for a little bit, taking a moment to contemplate the whole proposal.
“So how many dates do I have to go on with you again?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.
Bingo! He was cracking. You didn’t even have to throw in letting him drive your dad’s sports cars.
You tapped your chin in thought. You really should have thought this through more before scrambling it all onto him. “Well, every week there’s a Saturday brunch that my mom sets up. I also have tennis matches Saturday mornings before brunch. And there’s a few random golfing days and dinners here and there for my dad’s company,” you went on, calculating them in your head.
“So, I would expect three to four days a week for the next month,” you finalized. That seemed like a fair number to you.
JJ groaned and sunk his face. But you knew he was giving in just by the glitter in his eyes.
“F-Fine! You have a deal. I’ll be your stupid fake boyfriend or whatever. But I expect that board and the money to be in my hands the day after Midsummers,” he grumbled.
You happily cheered and clapped your hands, bouncing up and down like a kid who just got their way. The other customers were now throwing weird looks at you, but you didn’t care. Not one bit. Looks like you won’t be looking like a fool after all.
“You have yourself a deal Maybank! Oh, and before I forget, do not tell anyone about this agreement. Even the Pogues. I want to save myself the embarrassment,” you added.
“You really expect them to believe I’m actually dating a Kook out of the blue like this? Get real, y/n.”
“Well just make something up! Say we started talking magically or something,” you suggested.
“They’re gonna see right through it,” he shot down again.
Ugh, what a total drag! You hoped this pessimistic attitude would vamoose when it was time for him to play the actual part.
“Like you alway say, deny deny deny,” you almost sang, arching a brow. He rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.
“And what about Vega and all the other Kooks? You really think they’re gonna believe we’re together? You’re like the richest spoiled-est one of them all. We’ll never pull this off!”
“Hey, hey, hey Negative Nancy! We can totally pull it off,” you retorted, “If John B can pull Sarah then you can pull me. Don’t worry about the Kooks, they’ll come around to it eventually. I don’t think they’re that smart to figure us out. And with Max, the more snarky comments he makes about us, the more jealous he is. Trust me.”
Two years with the guy and you could read him like an open book. You knew all of his nuts and bolts and weren’t afraid to use them against him.
“I know I’m gonna fucking regret this,” JJ sighed, “You Kooks are fucking crazy you know that? All this for fucking Vega.”
You ignored his whining and patted him on the shoulder with the brightest, widest grin. Remembering the potential wrinkle lines though, you quickly went back to your normal face as JJ grudgingly led you outside before anyone else could stare. He looked like a kid who lost his last quarter to a dumb bet.
“So here is my phone number,” you handed him a sparkly pink post-it note as you exited the shop. “First event is Friday night at eight. Actually, scratch that, make it six-thirty. I would like for you to pick me up from tennis practice at the club. Try to make a grand appearance if you can so everyone can see. Then, we can eat dinner real quick at my place. Alfred’s making filet mignon so you’re in luck,” you informed, laying out the game plan.
“Who’s Alfred? Your dad?”
“Butler,” you corrected and he grimaced. You ignored him again.
“Are you sure you want me to pull up to your fancy country club in my dad’s clunky old truck? Not sure if that’s the Kook definition of one-upping someone.”
You shrugged. “It’ll surely give those assholes something to talk about. And, you’ll be in the car. That’s all that matters. Max will absolutely love it! Anyways,” you checked your rose-gold Rolex, “I gotta run. I have a dress fitting in ten. See ya later boyfriend!”
You wanted to give him a little nudge but settled on a salutatory tap on the shoulder before skipping off. About five steps in, however, you forgot to mention to him that the tennis courts were a little further down the street from the club entrance. It always tripped people up.
Whipping around, you hoped to catch JJ before he ran off, but instead you caught him staring into the window of a small boutique next door to the surf shop. He hardly noticed you turned around as he was kind of angled away from you.
Your nosy self was curious to see what he was so fascinated with. You inched closer behind him to see he was gazing at one of the associates working in there.
It was a girl!
She was petite and brunette with straight long hair. You had never seen her before, so you assumed she was from the south side of the island. Her eyes were concentrated on writing something at the register, paying no mind to the entranced boy making doe eyes at her from outside.
Interesting.
So, JJ had a little crush. It was actually kind of cute but creepy at the same time. Instead of interrupting his trance, though, you decided to just text him about the tennis courts later and be on your way.
