The neon glow of the city bled into the cracked pavement, rain pooling in the dips, reflecting reds and blues from distant signs. The air was thick with the scent of fried street food and exhaust, a humid summer night pressing against the skin. JJ Maybanks leaned back against his dented car, arms crossed, foot tapping against the curb.

Inside the dim-lit diner behind him, she was ranting into her phone again, voice rising above the static of traffic. He smirked, tilting his head to watch her through the window, the crease between her brows deepening as she paced. Always screaming about something—life, work, the latest injustice. His little firecracker.

His hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, fingers brushing against the crumpled prescription bottle she made him pick up last week. “You should actually take them,” she’d said, eyes soft despite her usual sharp tongue. He never told her that hearing her voice was the only thing that ever made sense in his head anyway.

She spun on her heel, catching him staring, and her scowl deepened. He grinned.

His best friend had dropped out of college last month, sick of rules, sick of the weight of expectations. JJ got it. The world wanted them to be something they weren’t. Success stories. Clean-cut, well-behaved, predictable. But that was never them. They had bigger plans—plans no one else understood.

She stormed out of the diner, still muttering under her breath, shoving past him to unlock the car.

JJ let out a low chuckle, trailing after her. He threw himself into the passenger seat, stretching his legs, pushing back his damp hair. The engine sputtered to life, the radio crackling with static before settling on some old rock song.

“You’re kinda hot when you’re mad, you know that?” he muttered, grinning as she shot him a glare.