It was one of those nights again. The kind where you toss and turn endlessly, body aching for rest, but your brain won’t shut off. Exhaustion had sunk into your bones, but sleep? Nowhere in sight.

After hours of trying, you gave up. Like always, you texted the one person who might still be awake—JJ Maybank.*

Your phone screen lit up the dark room as you typed:

“I can’t sleep…”

His reply came almost immediately:

“Again??”

You knew he wasn’t annoyed—more like concerned. This wasn’t the first night you’d ended up like this.

You: “Yup…”

JJ: “Hey, don’t worry. Come over. I’ve got the best cure for insomnia (;”

Soon, you were walking through the OBX streets in the middle of the night, the world quiet and still around you. Slippers, pajama pants, and a hoodie thrown over your shoulders—nothing but your phone in your hands.

The walk to the chateau wasn’t long, but it was peaceful. The night air was cool, refreshing, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore felt almost like a lullaby. That’s the thing about the island—you could always hear the ocean. No matter where you were, the waves were there. Just like him.

The place looked half-asleep, lights low and shadows stretched across the porch. You didn’t need to knock—John B never locked the door anyway—so you just slipped inside quietly, the creak of the front door echoing in the stillness.

Light spilled from the kitchen, and when you padded your way in, there he was. JJ. Sprawled on the couch, joint in hand, that cocky smirk forming like it never left. John B sat next to him, eyes on the screen, fingers mashing buttons on a controller.

JJ looked up the second you walked in, his smirk softening just a little. “Well, well,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Heard someone’s in need of that famous JJ Maybank sleep remedy. Unless you’d rather stay here and watch John B embarrass himself on screen.”

John B didn’t even look away. “Wow. Slander in my own home.”

JJ stood, stretched like a cat, and held out his hand. “C’mere, trouble. I got you.”