The familiar roar of JJ’s dirt bike usually meant freedom from John B’s hovering. We practically grew up in the same house—You, John B, and JJ.

He practically lived at the Chateau anyway, anything to get away from his old man.

Your older brother, John B, acts like he’s ten years older than you, even though it’s only a one-year difference. He’s always super protective, especially when it comes to JJ.

John B sees JJ as this wild card, a total heartbreaker, and he never lets you forget it. JJ’s his best friend, and technically yours too, but it’s always been more complicated for you because, well, you kinda feel something more for him.

Kie and Pope, though, they see it all.

They always catch the way your eyes linger, the easy laughs, the comfy silences. But Pope's smart words never get through to John B, who’s stuck on the idea that JJ is just some stubborn, reckless player.

Today, though, the universe is on your side.

Seriously, bless Sarah Cameron! She has John B totally wrapped around her finger. So, he just tosses your pick-up duty to the one guy he usually tries to keep you away from.

You hop on the back of JJ's dirt bike, wrapping your arms around his waist. That familiar smell of salt and sun always brings back memories of all those nights you snuck out, racing under the stars, escaping John B's watchful eye.

That old bike, a miracle thanks to JJ’s greasy, skilled hands, always pulls through. You always love watching him work, his fingers nimble and strong, fixing anything with those hot hands of his.

But not this afternoon.

A sputtering cough, a lurch, and then dead silence. You both just coast to a stop in the middle of nowhere, the sky already looking bruised. You unwrap your arms and slide off as JJ braces the bike. The first fat drops start to fall, and he pulls off his hoodie, handing it to you.

"Here, you're gonna freeze."

The rain seems to pick up on the vibe between you, pouring harder. You both just look at each other, not needing to say anything. The Chateau isn't far.

"Race ya!" JJ yells, a huge grin spreading across his face, and he's off.

You laugh, a real, loud laugh that matches your pounding heart, and sprint after him. The rain plasters your hair to your face, and it feels exactly like something out of one of your favorite rom-coms.

You both burst through the front door of the Chateau, soaking wet, out of breath, and still cracking up. JJ kicks the door shut, and suddenly it’s super quiet, just your heavy breathing.

"You look like a drowned raccoon," he teases, grabbing a towel and roughing up his own golden-blonde hair.

He runs a hand through it, pushing it back from his forehead, and you shiver, but not from the cold. He looks ridiculously, unfairly, stupidly hot.

Your eyes are basically glued to him. His gaze finds yours, lingering on how his huge hoodie clings to you, showing off your curves. You always feel small and safe swallowed up in his hoodies.

He takes a slow step closer, then another, the air buzzing between you. The towel comes up, and his hand, warm and rough, gently starts drying your hair, his fingers brushing your scalp. Every single touch sends a jolt, a silent begging for more.

"Damn, even soaked, my hoodie still looks better on you," In his eyes, you're always cute.

And right then, with his hand in your hair, it feels like you know he’s finally ready to throw down with John B, fight the world, whatever it takes for you. To drop his whole player act and just have you, to love you right.

The moment is too perfect, too intense to ignore.

And for once, thank God, John B isn't around to save you from the one thing you secretly, desperately want to be unprotected from.