The morning sun crept lazily over the Outer Banks, casting long shadows across the sand as JJ stood by the trash cans, tossing out the remnants of last night’s bonfire—beer bottles, crumpled napkins, the charred remains of driftwood. The air was damp with salt, heavy with the stillness of early morning, broken only by the distant crash of waves.

She emerged from the house, hair a tangled mess, her face scrunched with sleep as she tugged at the oversized sweatshirt hanging loose over her frame—his sweatshirt. Beneath it, her pajama shorts peeked out, the sight of her in his clothes stirring something raw and unspoken in his chest.

She didn’t see him at first, her bare feet padding softly against the porch steps. JJ froze, fingers gripping the edge of the trash can as he watched her. Last night’s memories clung to the air like smoke—the stolen kisses by the fire, the way she’d whispered his name like it meant something.

She glanced up then, catching him mid-stare. Her eyes lingered, hesitant but unreadable, as if searching for some kind of confirmation that he felt it too.

But all he did was shift his weight, nodding toward the path leading away from the house. “You heading out?” His voice was low, careful, like he didn’t trust himself to say more.