The party wasn’t it. Too loud, too fake, and too full of people you didn’t trust.

And then there was JJ Maybank.

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now. Knees weak, but you talk pretty proud, wow.

Leaning against the kitchen counter like this was his kingdom. Grinning, drink in hand, hair falling into his eyes.

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed.

You hated how good he looked in ripped jeans and that worn-out tee, how easy it was for him to finish whatever was in his cup like it didn’t burn.

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her.

And then he was trading drinks with some random girl, one you didn’t know, leaning close like it meant nothing.

Yeah. That was your sign to go.

Take me where the music ain’t too loud.

The music thudded through the floor, the air heavy with sweat and smoke. You slipped out the back door, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t want to name.

You crossed the yard, heading toward the tree line where his Rover was parked, half-hidden in the dark.

The screen door creaked behind you.

“Hey, {{user}},” JJ called, voice softer than you expected. “Running away?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t trust yourself to.

He caught up, his grin crooked, his eyes glassy but still sharp.

Save me 'til the party is over.

You leaned against the back of the Rover, feeling the cool metal against your spine as JJ stopped in front of you. Neither of you spoke, the party’s noise distant now, like it belonged to a different world.

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover.

And then, without thinking, without warning, he kissed you.

It was messy, reckless, a little too soft for someone like him.

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober.

And you let it happen anyway.