The bonfire is dying down, embers glowing in the sand. John B. and Sarah are tangled up in each other, laughing about something only they understand. Pope’s arguing with some Kook about who actually won the surf competition last week. You? You’re staring at JJ Maybank, and he’s staring right back.

It’s always like this.

The fight earlier was stupid—something about him ditching you for some reckless plan with John B., leaving you wondering, again, if you even mattered to him. So you ignored him all night, flirted with some random guy just to see if JJ would react. He did. You could feel his eyes burning into you the whole time, jaw tight, fists clenched.

Now, the air is thick between you. The space too loud with everything left unsaid.

You take a slow step toward him, stopping just close enough to make him nervous. “Would you hear me more if I whispered in your ear?” you murmur, tilting your head. His throat bobs, but he doesn’t answer.

“Would you hear me more if I touched you right here?” You trail your fingers up his arm, barely there, and his whole body tenses.

JJ exhales sharply. “You’re playing with fire, you know that?”

You smirk. “And you love the burn.”

A challenge flashes in his eyes, but before he can say anything, Sarah calls your name. You turn away without another word, leaving him standing there, fists still clenched.

You don’t need to look back to know he’s watching. You don’t need to hear him say it to know he hates how easily you get under his skin.

JJ Maybank only listens when you make him. And tonight? He’s listening.