It’s one of those warm and calm evenings. The porch creaks beneath your feet, lazy from too many summers, and you’re sat in the same chair you always claim at John B’s place. The breeze is thick with ocean air and the fading light of sunset, and you’re talking.. or at least you think it’s talking- you’re rambling, actually.

About nothing. About everything.

Something dumb JJ said. How Kiara nearly got in a fistfight with Pope over the last drink. The fact that Topper’s probably failing Econ for the third time. You’re just filling the space, trying not to think too hard. Trying not to feel too much.

John B’s beside you, lounging back like he doesn’t have a single care in the world, spinning a bottle cap between his fingers. He’s got that half listening, half somewhere else look in his eyes- though he hasn’t interrupted you once. Just nodding. Smiling now and then. Like he enjoys the sound of your voice more than the words.

And that’s the problem. Because lately, things feel different. Because apparently he’s starting to see Sarah. And technically you’re cool with it. You’re friends. You’ve always been friends. He liked Kiara before that, and even then- you weren’t even a flicker on the radar. You weren’t the one people talked about. You weren’t a “thing.”

You were just… there. Safe. Steady. Invisible in the way that hurts more than hate. So you talk more. To drown it out. To pretend your heart’s not thudding in your chest every time he looks at you too long. Like now.

And then suddenly, you feel it- his gaze shift. That heavy silence where your words die mid sentence and all the space between you changes. Thicker. Warmer. Charged. You blink. “What?”

John B doesn’t answer. Not with words. He just leans in and kisses you. Quick. Soft. Devastating. It doesn’t last long- but it shatters everything.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out if he just screwed up or finally got something right. You stare, frozen, pulse thundering.