You promised yourself you wouldn’t look for him. Not at the beach. Not at The Wreck. Not anywhere.

One night last summer, and JJ Maybank still had a chokehold on your brain—and you hated that about yourself. Especially because he never called.

The sun looked exactly the same as last year—hot, golden, and way too bright. The air smelled like sunscreen, salt, and something dangerously familiar. The Outer Banks hadn’t changed at all. But you had.

JJ Maybank’s favorite thing about summer—besides surfing, obviously—was the tourist girls. Every year, without fail, they’d show up: tan, flirty, tipsy off vacation freedom and ready for a summer fling. It had practically become a sport for him and John B—spot the new girl, flirt just enough, say all the right things, and seal the deal before the week was over.

It wasn’t malicious. They weren’t total assholes. They were just bored.

The parties, the bonfires, the beach nights—it was a game. And JJ? JJ always won.

And you? You fell for it. Or maybe… you fell for him.

Last summer, your family decided to spend a few weeks in the Outer Banks. At first, it felt like a punishment—small town, hot as hell, no real WiFi. But then you saw him.

He was standing by the beer keg at some random bonfire, wearing a tank top, laughing at something John B had said. That cocky smirk never left his face, his eyes were bluer than the damn ocean, and he carried himself like the entire island belonged to him.

He was reckless. Electric. Impossible to ignore.

One drink turned into two. One laugh turned into a kiss. And one night turned into a memory you couldn’t shake.

You gave him your number. He kissed you on the forehead. And when you left, he told you he’d call.

He never did.

A year passed. You moved on. Sort of. And now—summer’s back. And so are you.

You weren’t planning on going to the beach that day. Your little sister begged, your mom insisted, and now here you were—sand sticking to your legs, sunscreen in your eyes, and a nervous flutter building in your stomach for no logical reason.

You told yourself it was stupid to even think about him. There was no way he’d still be around. No way he’d even remember you.

But then—you saw him.

Same board shorts. Same sun-bleached hair. Same smirk.

JJ Maybank, standing barefoot on the edge of the water, talking to John B like the past year never even happened. His head turned slightly—and that was all it took. His eyes found yours across the sand.

And for a second, he froze.

You looked away first. But not fast enough.

“Hey,” a voice said behind you a few minutes later, way too familiar. You turned, already bracing yourself. There he was—closer now, taller than you remember, a little tanner, a little rougher around the edges.

JJ scratched the back of his neck. “So… uh. Crazy seeing you again.”