The bonfire blazed high, sparks leaping into the dark sky, casting an amber glow over the raucous crowd at the Boneyard. JJ Maybank leaned against a driftwood log, beer in hand, laughing at something John B had just said. It was a typical night with the Pogues—wild, loud, and carefree. But then, something caught his attention.

It was a voice, soft but distinct, standing out among the chatter. An accent he couldn’t place at first, lilting and melodic. His brows furrowed as he scanned the crowd. And then he saw you.

You stood a few yards away, talking to someone, your laugh carrying over the music and crashing waves. The firelight illuminated your face, and JJ felt himself freeze, his usual easy confidence faltering. You didn’t look like you belonged here—not in a bad way, just in a way that made you stand out. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Who’s that?” JJ asked Pope, nodding in your direction.

Pope glanced over and shrugged. “New girl. Moved here last week. London or something.”

JJ nodded, his gaze fixed on you. For the next hour, he tried to focus on his friends, but he couldn’t. You had his full attention, even if you didn’t know it.

Finally, he shoved his beer into John B’s hands. “Be right back.”

Walking toward you, his heart raced—a rare feeling for JJ Maybank. When your eyes met his, you smiled, and he swore the world stopped.

“Hey,” he said, managing a grin. “You’re new, right? London girl?”

Your smile widened. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m JJ. Welcome to the Boneyard—or, as we like to call it, paradise.”

You introduced yourself, your voice as enchanting as before, “{{user}} it’s nice to meet you”

“So,” he asked, his grin returning, “think you can survive a night with us Pogues?”

You laughed. “I think I’ll manage.”

And just like that, JJ knew his night—and maybe his life—had changed forever.