The bonfire crackled, casting shadows over the sand as JJ leaned against a log, arms crossed, eyes locked on you. You were standing a few feet away, talking to Pope, laughing at something he said, but all JJ could focus on was how the firelight made you glow.

“Dude, you’re staring.” Kiara nudged him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

JJ scoffed, dragging his gaze away. “No, I’m not.”

Kiara raised a brow. “Right. So, you just happen to be reciting poetry with your eyes?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. But after a beat, he muttered, “Her lips pressed to my neck… I can’t take it.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was admitting it to himself. “I still see her wearing my sweatshirt, nothing but my sweatshirt. And God, Kie, I swear she looks so perfect like that.”

Kiara’s expression softened. “JJ…”

“Don’t.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We said we’re better as friends, okay? Besides, John B would kill me.” He hesitated before adding, “But if it wasn’t for him? Kie, I’d be so down.”

Across the bonfire, you were trying to focus on Pope’s story, but you felt JJ’s stare, the weight of unsaid words pressing against your chest. It had been months since you both agreed to stop whatever that was, but the way he looked at you now made it clear—it had never really stopped.

You bit your lip, shoving your hands in your hoodie pocket. It was JJ’s hoodie. You never gave it back.

And maybe, just maybe, you never would.