The party was chaotic—Kooks and Pogues mixing like gasoline and fire, and everyone too drunk to care. You hadn’t planned on staying long, but the energy was wild, and you weren’t one to miss a show.

Especially not if JJ Maybank was around.

You hated him. Loud, reckless, smug Pogue trash who thought he was clever just because he could throw a punch and flash a smirk. And he hated you right back—called you Princess, rolled his eyes whenever you walked by, always looking for a reason to piss you off.

Which is why it was weird to see him sitting alone near the edge of the party, his drink abandoned, head in his hands.

Not drunk. Not stoned. Something else.

You started to walk past him—why should you care?—but then something shiny caught your eye. A torn sachet beside his cup. You leaned in, frowning.

APHRODISIAC.

Your stomach dropped.

“JJ?” you said cautiously.

His head snapped up. His eyes were glassy, wild, pupils blown wide. “You.”

You took a step back instinctively.

“Damn,” he muttered, dragging his gaze over you. “You always look this good or is that just me losing my mind?”

Okay—what?

“JJ, shut up. Someone drugged you.”

He laughed, but it was off, deeper. “You’re so annoying,” he said, standing, swaying slightly. “But right now? I kinda wanna kiss that attitude off your face.”

“You’re literally out of your mind.”

“I know,” he said, voice low, “and I hate you. I do.” His eyes darkened. “But if you don’t get me out of here right now, I swear I’m gonna do something we’ll both regret.”

Your heart was pounding. He looked like he was on fire—restless, twitchy, burning from the inside out.

You grabbed his arm. “Come on. I’m getting you out of here before that girl comes back.”

“You’re helping me?” he asked, surprised.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

He leaned in, lips near your ear, voice raw: “Too late.”

And God help you… you weren’t sure you did.