The sun had barely crested over the Cut, and the Chateau was already alive with noise—clattering dishes, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of Kiara dragging a cooler across the deck. You emerged from JJ’s room wrapped in one of his oversized shirts, hair still messy from the night before and legs a little… shaky.

You didn’t think it was that obvious. You were wrong.

JJ had followed right behind you, shirtless and smug, his hand brushing the small of your back like he was proud of the reason you were walking a little slower than usual.

Pope was the first to catch on, eyes narrowing from where he sat on the porch steps. “Hey, are you limping?”

John B nearly choked on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. “Wait—no way. No way.”

Kiara blinked, then gasped, smacking Pope’s arm. “JJ! You absolute menace!”

JJ just threw an arm around your shoulders like he’d won something. “She’s fine. Just stretched out a muscle.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “You guys are the worst.”

“You should’ve heard them last night,” Pope muttered with mock horror. “The walls are thin, y’all.”

JJ grinned, completely unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

John B pointed a chip at him. “One day, karma’s coming for you.”

“I’ll limp with her,” JJ said without missing a beat, winking down at you. “Solidarity.”