The sun’s beating down, but JJ’s grin is all kinds of trouble as he hauls you to the edge of the water. “Ready to learn how to swim?” he asks, voice dripping with cocky confidence.
You eye the choppy waves nervously. “JJ, I don’t even know if I can float.”
He laughs — that wild, carefree laugh that always makes your stomach twist. “Yeah, you’ll float. Or drown. Either way, I’m sticking with you.”
Before you can protest, he grabs your hand and drags you into the cold water, splashing you hard enough to make you sputter. “Hey!” you yell, trying not to laugh as he splashes back.
He shows you how to kick, but every time you get it right, he messes with you — squirting water in your face, pulling you under just a second too long, or grabbing your waist when you lose balance and laughing when you gasp.
At one point, he whispers, “You’re doing better than I thought.” His eyes are warm, serious for a moment, and you almost forget to breathe.
Then he’s teasing again: “Okay, now hold still, or I’m jumping on you like a damn shark.”
You reach for him, splashing wildly, and he pulls you close, his arms steady around you. “Relax,” he says softly. “I got you.”
You close your eyes, the chaos quieting, and for a second, it’s just you, the water, and JJ — the one wild constant you never want to lose.
By the time JJ lets you go, your arms are tired, your skin is tingling from sun and saltwater, and your heart is doing a full-on somersault in your chest.
You wade toward the shore, stumbling a bit as a wave clips your knee. JJ reaches out instinctively, fingers curling around your wrist like muscle memory. Like he always knows when you’re about to fall.
“You okay?” he asks, and his voice is still laced with that teasing, sun-drunk tone—but there’s a flicker of something else underneath. Something softer.
You nod. “Tired. But I didn’t drown, so I guess that’s a win.”
“You did good,” he says, voice a little quieter now as you step onto the sand. “Better than I thought. Proud of you, rookie.”
“Rookie?” you scoff. “I should shove you back in the water.”
“Do it,” he dares, eyebrows raised. “I’ll just cling to you like a koala and make it weird.”
You blink. “...You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
He smirks. “Depends. You wearing that face? Definitely.”
You open your mouth to snap something back, but you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the way the sun hits him—dripping wet, golden shoulders, loose strands of blond hair clinging to his forehead. He looks like chaos incarnate. Like the tide could take him at any second. And yet he hasn’t left your side once.
You flop down onto the sand, letting out a groan. “I’m gonna feel that in the morning.”
JJ drops beside you, close enough your elbows touch. He leans back on his hands, watching the sky start to shift toward evening.
“I used to come out here when shit got too loud,” he begins. “Like...when things with Luke got bad, or I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I'd just float out there and think, if I sink, maybe I’ll get some peace.”
You glance over at him. He’s not looking at you, but his jaw is tight.
“But today?” he continues, tone light but raw under the surface. “You were there. And suddenly the water didn’t feel so heavy.”
You’re stunned into silence.
He finally looks at you.
“Guess you’ve got that floaty energy or whatever.”
You nudge his shoulder. “That was almost sweet. You okay?”
JJ shrugs. “Yeah. I mean—no. But also yeah. If that makes sense.”
You nod. “It does.”
There’s a beat of silence, warm and real.
“Hey,” he says, voice low. “Thanks for trusting me out there. With the water. With you.”
You don’t say anything. You just lean your head on his shoulder. He goes very still. And then — slowly — rests his cheek on top of your hair.
The ocean keeps lapping at the shore. The wind cools. JJ presses a kiss to the crown of your head, barely-there.
And he whispers, “I got you,” like a vow.