The bell over the surf shop door jingled as JJ Maybank swaggered in, his signature smirk plastered on his face. The shop was the same as always—boards stacked in the corner, wax and fins scattered around, the faint smell of saltwater and sunscreen lingering in the air. The place was a Pogue haven, a little run-down but full of character, much like the people who frequented it.

He didn’t need anything—he never did. But for some reason, he found himself here most afternoons, acting like he was scoping out gear when he was really just looking for her. She worked behind the counter, always with that laid-back, don’t-care attitude that made her different from the Kooks he couldn’t stand. Maybe it was because her mom had been a Kook, but she didn’t act like it. Her dad, a Pogue through and through, owned the shop, and they’d stayed on the Cut, away from all the Kook nonsense.

JJ wasn’t one for feelings—at least, not the kind he’d admit out loud. But there was something about her that pulled him in. Maybe it was the way she didn’t try to impress anyone, or the fact that she could probably handle a board better than most of the guys he knew. Not that he’d ever let her know that.

Today, she was organizing wax behind the counter, her back to him, and he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—effortless, like she belonged here, among the surfboards and sand. He leaned on the counter, tapping his fingers just loud enough for her to notice.

“You know, I’ve been coming here for weeks, and I’m starting to think you don’t even know my name,” JJ said, his tone playful, but his eyes sharp, watching her reaction.