Yesterday had been unforgettable - yet somehow you'd already forgotten most of it.

Somehow you'd gotten so drunk, you'd ended up at the Château - specifically, in JJ Maybank's bed.

You didn't even know much about him. You'd barely even spoken before last night. But somewhere between the bonfire and the bottles, he'd been all over you cocky comments.

lingering touches, that reckless spark in his eye that felt dangerously irresistible.

---

And now... here you were.

You were lying on the messy bed, propped up on your elbows, still wearing the same clothes from the night before, a red solo cup with leftover booze dangling lazily in your hand.

JJ hovered above you, shirtless, arms on either side of your head, trapping you between him and the mattress. He was smirking, that smug little grin he wore like armor - but up close, you noticed something you hadn't before.

His eyes.

God, his eyes.

The kind of blue you could get lost in without ever finding your way back. The kind of blue that felt like trouble, and you wanted to drown in it anyway.

From somewhere down the hall, you heard the flush of a toilet. The clatter of the others - John B. Kiara, Pope talking outside the door.

You should've cared.

But you didn't.

JJ dipped his face a little closer to yours, eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes - a spark of something reckless lighting between you

Then.

The door slammed open.

John B stood there, wide-eyed like he just walked in on a crime scene.

"DUDE! Get outta here!" JJ barked, grabbing the cup from your hand and whipping it at John B. who ducked with a laugh and pulled the door shut again.

For a second, you and JJ just stared at each other, breathless and frozen.

Then he looked back down at you smirk curling again and god help you, you were already falling.