The bonfire raged on, flames licking the night sky as Kooks and Pogues alike stumbled around, wasted beyond reason. The party was one of those rare nights where both sides coexisted—well, barely.

JJ Maybank leaned against a driftwood log, Olivia draped over him, laughing at something stupid. Across the fire, you stood with Rafe Cameron’s arm slung around your shoulders, both of you equally as intoxicated. The tension between you and JJ had been there for years—constant bickering, fights that nearly turned physical, and a hatred that felt personal.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way the fire flickered between you two. Maybe it was fate being an absolute bitch.

At some point in the chaos, JJ found himself outside the party, stumbling along the sand, and somehow—you were there, too. Alone.

“You lost, Princess?” he slurred, smirking.

“You wish,” you shot back, eyes narrowing. The world spun a little, and you weren’t even sure how the conversation started, but suddenly you were chest-to-chest, trading insults.

And then, before either of you could process it, his lips crashed against yours. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t sweet—it was desperate, reckless, fueled by years of anger and something neither of you wanted to name.

The next morning, the sun was cruel, beating down on you as you stirred awake. The pounding in your head was nothing compared to the horror that settled in when you turned over—JJ Maybank, passed out beside you, shirtless, the memories of last night flashing back in pieces.

“Oh, hell no,” you muttered, sitting up so fast the world tilted.

JJ groaned, rubbing his face. Then he peeked one eye open, took in the situation, and let out a groggy laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, shaking his head.

This? This was going to be a problem.