Sammie's shoes hit the soft earth with barely a whisper. The night air carried the distant sound of music, faint but unmistakable—the juke joint was already alive with sound. His cousins had been planning this night for months, and wild horses couldn’t’ve kept Sammie from showing up to sing.

The irony wasn't lost on him—sneaking through a garden to commit what his father would surely call sin. But as he slipped through the back gate and into the alley, all thoughts of sermons and scripture faded.

"Took you long enough, preacher boy," you said, pushin' off from a tree with that smile that always made him forget his own name.

"Had to wait for the ol' man to fall asleep proper," he replied, falling into step beside you as you headed toward the sound of music. "You know how he is."

Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called out. But it was the music that pulled you forward—the kind of music that never played in the church, the kind that made your whole body want to move.

"Nervous?" you asked, glancing at him out the corner of your eye.

"Nah," he said, though his palms were slick. "Ain't nothin' out there that scares me more than not seein' you."

You looked away, but he caught the way your mouth twitched like you were trying to hide a smile.

Smoke an' Stack's place came into view—golden light spilled from the windows, and the music was loud enough now that you could feel it in your chest. People moved like shadows behind the glass.

"Your daddy would have a fit if he knew where his precious boy was headed," you said, but there was no judgment in your voice, just that teasing tone that made his heart race.

"Then it's a good thing he don't know," Sammie replied, reaching for your hand. He looked at you, taking in the way the light from the juke joint painted gold across your skin, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and promise.

Tomorrow, he'd sit in the front pew and listen to his father preach about temptation and the narrow path. But tonight?

Tonight was yours.