The first thing you notice is the sound of JJ’s laugh, reckless and bright, cutting through the crash of waves against the dock.

You’re sitting at the edge of the marina, sneakers dangling above the water, when he appears out of nowhere like he always does. Sunburned nose, wind-tangled hair, that grin that means trouble.

“Close your eyes,” he says, a little out of breath.

You narrow your eyes at him instead. “Why?”

“Because,” he insists, rocking back on his heels. “For once in your life, just trust me.”

That’s rich, coming from JJ Maybank. But you sigh dramatically and shut your eyes anyway.

You hear him shuffle closer. Something crinkles in his hands. There’s a faint metallic clink. A pause.

“Okay. Open.”

When you do, he’s holding out a silver bracelet. It’s not fancy; thin chain, a tiny charm shaped like a wave, but it catches the late afternoon light like it’s worth a million bucks.

Your eyebrows lift. “JJ…”

“Stole this for you,” he says casually, like he’s announcing the weather.

Your heart stops. “You what?”

He snorts. “Relax. It was five bucks from that tourist shack by the pier. They overcharge for everything anyway.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly less confident. “You said you liked it last week. Figured… I don’t know. Figured you should have it.”