The sun was low, spilling soft light across the marsh as you made your way up to the weathered old house. The Chateau. You’d only been here once before — a bonfire you barely stayed at. It wasn’t exactly your scene.

But you needed John B.

The family boat was acting up again, and he was the only one who didn’t charge ridiculous prices to fix it. That, and he actually knew what he was doing.

You hesitated at the porch, the old boards creaking under your step as you reached for the screen door and knocked.

It opened a second later.

But it wasn’t John B.

It was JJ.

He leaned against the doorframe, blonde hair messy, a beer in one hand, grease smudged on his knuckles. A slow, crooked grin spread across his face when he saw you.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes sweeping over you. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here, {{user}}.”