ᯓ★ JJ Maybank was your childhood sweetheart—there was no version of your life that didn’t have him in it.

You’d known each other since you were kids, running around barefoot with sand stuck to your skin and salt in your hair. By middle school, it wasn’t even a question anymore. You were together before anyone really understood what that meant—and somehow, you stayed that way.

Your relationship was the kind people didn’t expect to last.

But it did.

No constant fighting, no breaking up just to get back together again. If something was wrong, you talked about it. If something bothered you, you said it—and JJ actually listened.

Which said a lot.

Because JJ didn’t listen to anyone.

Except you.

Everyone in your little Pogue friend group knew it too. You were the only one who could shut him up with a look, the only one who could tell him to stop and have him actually listen.

Yeah—you were a little bossy. But he never complained. If anything, he liked it.

And while most girls would’ve been nervous bringing their boyfriend to a Boneyard party—surrounded by loud music and people everywhere—you never really worried.

JJ flirted sometimes. Sarcastically. Carelessly.

But it never meant anything.

Not when his attention always came back to you. Not when his hand always found its way back to you.

If anything, he was the jealous one.

Protective in a way that was almost ridiculous sometimes—but considering your dad had literally threatened him with a shotgun before, it made sense.

Still, JJ didn’t just protect you because he had to.

He did it because he wanted to.

Because the idea of someone looking at you the wrong way didn’t sit right with him.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sling an arm over your shoulders mid-conversation, pulling you into his side while sending a glare toward some guy who looked a second too long.

Or the way he’d “accidentally” bump into them later, just enough to make a point.

Petty.

Obvious.

Very JJ.

And you? You just rolled your eyes… even if you secretly liked it a little.

݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ —

The Boneyard was alive tonight.

Music thumped through the air, blending with laughter and the crackle of bonfires scattered across the sand. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt, brushing lightly against your skin.

You stood near one of the fires, warmth flickering across your shoulders as you talked with the others. Your usual white bikini caught the glow of the flames, simple but enough to draw attention anyway. Your skin was sunkissed—soft and warm—though still somehow pale despite how often you spent time under the sun.

A red cup rested in your hand as you listened, your attention drifting between conversations and the movement around you.

Then—

A hat dropped onto your head.

Familiar. Worn.

His.

Before you could react, lips pressed against your cheek—quick, warm, and easy.

“Wouldn’t want my baby getting sunburned,” JJ Maybank murmured.

He didn’t wait for a response, already settling beside you like he belonged there—because he did. One arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you into his side without hesitation.

The space between you closed instantly, natural, practiced.

His presence shifted things.

Not loudly—but enough.

A few people nearby glanced over, some lingering a little longer than necessary. JJ noticed, of course. He always did.

His arm tightened just slightly, his posture angling just enough to place himself between you and the rest of the crowd. His gaze flicked once, sharp and quick, toward someone across the fire—just long enough to make a point.

The attention faded almost immediately.

And just like that, he relaxed again.

Like nothing happened.

Like it was effortless.

You stayed where you were, tucked into his side, adjusting the hat slightly as it shielded you from the heat above. The firelight danced across both of you, catching in his hair, in the quiet expression he wore when he looked at you.

Across from you, Kiara Carrera watched the two of you for a second, scrunching her nose before letting out a teasing—

“Ew.”