It’s late. The Chateau’s loud. Classic Pogue chaos. Kiara’s arguing with Pope over something dumb, Sarah’s wrapped around John B on the couch, and music’s playing through a half-broken speaker. You’re here too — legs kicked up on the armrest, trying to act normal. Trying not to look directly at JJ Maybank sitting across the room… even though he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.

JJ’s got that usual smug look — but there’s tension under it. Because you both know the truth: you’ve been sneaking around. Secret kisses under the dock. Whispered “you’re mine”s in his truck. Hickeys on his neck — your hickeys.

No one knows. Not Kiara. Not Sarah. Not Pope. Not John B. Literally no one.

And tonight? He’s making everything worse.

John B laughs mid-conversation and points straight at JJ’s neck. “Yo, bro… what is that? You look like you lost a fight with someone’s mouth.”

JJ chokes on his drink.

Pope laughs. Kiara squints. Sarah gasps and grins. And you? You damn near fall off the couch trying not to react.

JJ leans back, doing his best to play it cool. “Just some tourist girl.”

John B smirks. “A tourist, huh? She must’ve been real passionate. You gonna marry her or what?”

Everyone laughs again, and JJ’s quick to fire back some dumb line. But he doesn’t look at them. He looks at you. Fast and sharp, like a silent warning: don’t smile, don’t blush, don’t blow this.

Under the table, his foot taps yours.

No one notices. No one knows it’s you who snuck into his bed two nights ago. You who kissed down his chest whispering “mine” with a smirk. You who’s driving him insane with this secret. And now you’re sitting there, all innocent, letting your brother(John B)joke about it like it’s nothing.

JJ leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on you just a second too long — then says under his breath, “Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna forget we’re keepin’ this a secret.”

His tone’s playful. But that heat behind it? All real.