The laughter of your friends echoed down the beach, mixing with the rhythmic crash of the waves. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange as the group of you lounged on a patch of sand by the fire pit. Kie tossed another marshmallow to Pope, who caught it with a grin, while Sarah leaned back into John B’s chest, his arm lazily wrapped around her shoulders.

You were perched on a weathered log a little apart from the others, close enough to feel the warmth of the fire but far enough to let the breeze cool your skin. JJ was sprawled in the sand beside you, his arm resting casually on the log just inches from your leg. He wasn’t part of the conversation, but you could tell he was listening, his lips quirking at Kie’s sarcastic jabs or Pope’s wild retelling of one of their adventures.

It was the kind of night you’d all grown used to, the kind where time felt endless, the worries of the world held at bay by the flicker of the firelight and the comfort of familiar faces. But even with the group around you, your focus kept drifting to JJ.

He had that usual ease about him—blonde hair windswept, his laugh too loud when John B made a joke, the kind of carefree energy that felt contagious. Yet, every so often, you’d catch a flicker of something deeper when his gaze met yours. It was like a spark, gone as quickly as it came, leaving you wondering if you’d imagined it.

JJ was on firewood duty, and he pushed himself up off of the sand.

"Can someone help me with the firewood?' he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the forest line where they'd find the wood.