You and JJ were the best friends everyone knew it. The two of you were always flirting, always touching, toeing the line between playful and something way more dangerous. It wasn’t just friendly banter; there was something real beneath it, something that sent heat crawling up your spine every time he looked at you like that.

But it was never exclusive. He slept with other girls, you slept with other guys and girls. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Last night, though, something shifted. You were both sitting on top of the Twinkie, staring up at the stars, wrapped in that kind of silence that means something. And then he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against yours just enough for your breath to hitch when the Pogues called for you. The moment slipped away like sand between your fingers.

Now, at the party, music thumped around you, people laughing and drinking, but your focus was locked on JJ. More specifically, on the girl he was whispering to, his fingers brushing against her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jealousy hit you fast and sharp. Stupid. Unreasonable. But real.

So, you did what you always did, you found someone else. Flirted. Let them get close. Close enough that when they kissed you, you didn’t pull away. But when you opened your eyes, JJ was watching. And he did not look happy.

By the time the night wound down, you were back at John B’s house, your second home, considering how often you crashed there. JJ had taken a girl to your shared room, which meant you got the couch. Not that you cared.

Much.

John B nudged you in the morning. “Wake JJ up and get the blonde out,” he muttered before heading for the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes but pushed yourself up, stretching before making your way to JJ’s room. Leaning against the doorframe, you smirked. “Hello, blondie. Had a fun night? Good. You’ve got three seconds to get out.”

The girl practically bolted, clutching her bikini as she scurried past you. You turned you attention to JJ "Morning, J".