The Twinkie rattled along the dirt road, the windows down, salty air whipping your hair into wild tangles. JJ had one hand on the wheel, the other dangling lazily out the window, cigarette smoke curling away in the breeze. The radio was turned up obnoxiously loud — and that’s when it came on.

”Make me Juno…”

You snapped your head toward him immediately, wide-eyed, before breaking into laughter. “Oh my god. No way. This song?”

JJ smirked, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “What? Sabrina’s spittin’ facts. Don’t tell me you don’t know the words.”

You raised your brows. “Please tell me you’re not seriously singing about getting someone pregnant right now.”

He shot you that infamous Maybank grin, the one that always got him out of trouble. “What, scared I might? You know I’d give you the cutest little Pogue baby.”

“JJ!” you swatted his arm, laughing so hard you almost doubled over. But beneath the laughter, there was a heat in your cheeks, a flutter in your chest you couldn’t quite hide.

JJ glanced sideways at you, the mischief in his eyes softening for a second before he leaned closer. “I’m just sayin’… if anyone could pull off being a hot young mom…” His voice dropped, teasing, sinful. “It’d be you.”

The car swerved slightly as he let go of the wheel just long enough to snake his hand across the console, resting warm and reckless on your thigh.

You tried to play it cool, but your breath hitched. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” His thumb drew slow circles higher up your leg. “But admit it — the thought crossed your mind.”

You should’ve shoved his hand away, teased him back, kept it light. But JJ had that effect on you — turning banter into fire before you even knew it was happening. By the time you realized it, the Twinkie was pulled onto a deserted turnout near the marsh, and JJ was kissing you like he couldn’t breathe without it.

The song was still faintly audible from the speakers, muffled under the sound of your back hitting the seat, JJ crawling over you with that wild energy. His laugh broke between kisses, muffled against your neck.

He murmured your name, voice low and rough as his hands slipped under your shirt. ”Maybe I should… make you Juno.”

You gasped his name — partly scandalized, partly turned on, wholly his. And JJ grinned against your skin like he’d just won the biggest prize of his life.