The humid Outer Banks air clung to your skin as you sat on the dock, legs dangling over the edge. JJ Maybank sat beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours, but not close enough to mean anything. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He always hovered in that gray area, never giving too much, never pulling away entirely.

“You know I don’t do relationships, {{user}},” he had told you once, casually tossing the words out like they meant nothing. But then he’d kissed you under the moonlight, murmuring your name like it was a prayer. You should’ve walked away then, but you couldn’t. He had this way of pulling you back, like the tide—relentless and impossible to escape.

Tonight was no different. You stared at the reflection of the moon rippling in the water, trying to summon the courage to ask. “What are we, JJ?”

He leaned back on his elbows, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Why do we have to be anything?”

Your chest tightened. “Because I can’t keep doing this—wondering what I mean to you, or if I mean anything at all.”

JJ sat up, his face shadowed in the dim light. “You mean something,” he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. But then he added, “Let’s not ruin it by putting a label on it, okay?”

There it was again—the blurry line he refused to cross. You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “No matter how much you apologise it doesn’t help the situation, I can’t live in this in-between anymore.”

He reached out for you, but you pulled away, standing up on shaky legs. “I hope you figure yourself out, JJ,” you whispered, turning away before he could see the tears fall.

As you walked down the dock, you swore you heard him whisper your name, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t follow.