The fire pit crackled in the center of the chateau terrace, casting warm light over the group sprawled on cushions and low chairs. You were sitting cross-legged on a cushion, reaching for the beer bottle when John B’s hand brushed yours as he grabbed his own left next to yours. He didn’t pull away. Fingers lingered against yours for a second longer than necessary, and that little smirk tugged at his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.

The rest of the group erupted into another round of laughter at something JJ had done, but John B stayed just looking at you for a beat longer, tension buzzing, impossible to ignore. He leaned back slightly, smirk softening just a touch.