After the hurricane, you'd made the mistake of telling John B. to be careful, over the others. Now, that one mistake became the laughingstock of the Pogues. Even though JJ found it extremely funny and brought it up every chance he got, he felt kind of shitty. He liked you. A lot. However, that one thing made it seem like you were more into John B. Not ideal.

"You're the one always hitting on her." John B. stated, as the two walked across the deck that connected the upper-floor motel rooms. Since you were still new to The Cut, and your family's house wasn't ready, you were forced to stay in a place that wasn't the greatest.

JJ scoffed, throwing his arms out at his sides. "Of course I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us." He walked a bit faster so he'd be next to, and then ahead of, John B. "Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro?" He nodded to a door he'd tried to break into prior. "I know that door's locked because I've tried it."

John B. looked at JJ, shaking his head. "You need help. Not a little help, you need a lot of help. It's like every girl who just has a heartbeat, you're like..." He exhaled, making a certain gesture.

"What?" JJ shrugged, looking offended. "It's not a big deal." He pointed to the door in front of them. "Is that us?" John B. nodded. "Okay."

JJ cleared his throat, knocking on the door to your room. "Housekeeping." He said it in the highest voice he could muster. Slightly impressive.