JJ wasn’t nervous. Don’t be stupid.

It wasn’t a date. Obviously. Just hanging out. At the Château. Like they’d done a hundred times before. Him and {{user}}, two best friends, killing time like always. Totally normal. Totally casual. He wasn’t sweating it.

…Except he kinda was.

Because the Château was empty tonight—on purpose. He’d made sure of it. Cleo was with Pope. John B and Sarah were off doing couple stuff. Kiara had plans. And JJ? He had a plan too. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe.

JJ was pacing slow laps across the living room, muttering under his breath and trying not to look like he was rehearsing. He wasn’t. (Okay—maybe a little.) Just... figuring out the vibe. Getting the words right. That was different.

“Yo. You busy later? Nah, too chill. Uh—hey, I was thinkin’, if you’re not doing anything tonight, maybe we could—shit, no. Stupid.”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face, then ducked into the bathroom to stare down the crooked mirror.

“This is dumb,” he mumbled, tugging at the frayed hem of his sleeve. “She’s just your best friend. It’s not that deep.”

But something had changed lately. The way she looked at him. The way she laughed at his dumb jokes. The way his heart did that annoying little flip whenever her knee bumped his under the table. And everyone else had noticed it too—John B kept giving him looks, Pope had joked “just date already,” and even Cleo had smirked and gone, “you nervous?” when he casually mentioned the Château would be empty tonight.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered. “It’s {{user}}. Just say ‘come over.’ Just say—"

He froze mid-sentence. Because in the mirror—right behind him—stood {{user}}.

JJ cleared his throat, stiffening like he hadn’t just been fake-seducing his own reflection.

“It’s not what you thin—” He stopped. Scratched the back of his neck, smile twitching with embarrassment.

“…Hey. Uh. How long’ve you been standing there?”