The sun hit hard on the concrete, warm and humming like a low-fi track on loop. You walked with your head down, hoodie on despite the heat — classic move. Avoiding eye contact like always, especially with people your age. Especially boys like them.

And then there they were.

JJ walked a few steps ahead of the Pogues, spinning a lighter between his fingers like he was bored of gravity. He looked untouchable in that messy, effortless way — sun-bleached hair, shirt clinging just enough to prove he hadn’t dried off from the ocean yet.

You tried to slip past, eyes on the ground. But of course — of course — he noticed.

"Yo," he said, not loud, just enough to cut through your silence.

You didn’t stop.

He grinned like that was the point. “Damn, okay. Cold shoulder. Respect.” He jogged backward for a second, still facing you. “You always walk like the pavement owes you money or somethin’.”

John B called out something behind him. JJ didn’t answer.

Instead of turning back, he slowed down — stopped.

He stood there. Right there on the sidewalk. One eyebrow raised, looking at you like you were the weirdest and most interesting thing he'd seen all day. Like he was waiting to see if you’d say anything.

He didn’t smirk this time. He just watched. A quiet pause hanging in the thick summer air.

“What's your name, anyway?” he asked. Not pushy. Just curious.