you and jj maybank had always been close. growing up in the obx, surrounded by sand, salt, and reckless adventure, it was impossible not to be. from the moment john b brought you into the pogue chaos, jj had been there—your partner-in-crime, your loudest defender, the boy who could make you laugh even when the world felt too heavy.

but somewhere along the way, things changed. maybe it was the late-night talks when everyone else had passed out, or the way he started looking at you a little too long, his blue eyes lingering like he was memorizing you. maybe it was the way your heart started to race whenever he got too close, or how his touch—so casual, so normal—suddenly felt like something more.

you both knew the rule. no pogue on pogue macking. and neither of you ever talked about what was shifting between you. but that didn’t stop it from happening. secret glances. lingering touches. moments alone that felt like stolen time. it was dangerous, unspoken, and yet, neither of you could stop.

and then jj slipped up.

you were searching for a swimsuit top before a beach day, rifling through drawers when you gave up and walked into the room where the pogues were gathered. “has anyone seen my top?” you asked, expecting nothing but shrugs.

but jj, without thinking, blurted out, “on my bed.”

silence. absolute, deafening silence.

you felt every set of eyes snap to jj as realization sank in. you went still, heartbeat hammering.

john b’s voice cut through the quiet. “what did you just say, jj?”

jj’s jaw clenched. you saw it—the flicker of panic in his eyes, the way he hesitated like he was calculating whether to lie or own it.

the thing was, there was no taking it back. and just like that, the secret was out.