Kiara tried not to stare, but it was impossible. The way JJ laughed—head thrown back, sun catching the curve of his smile—made her chest ache in ways she hated to admit. He was spinning {{user}} around in the sand, both of them breathless and glowing under the Outer Banks sun. Then, later, it was surfing—JJ helping {{user}} balance on the board, hand resting on her waist like it belonged there. Maybe it did.

Kie felt Sarah slide beside her, their towels nearly touching. Sarah had noticed. Of course, she had. “You can’t come between them, Kie,” she murmured, voice gentle but firm. Kie’s jaw tightened. She didn’t want this conversation. She didn’t want to hear it.

“They have their own thing,” Sarah continued, her gaze drifting toward JJ and {{user}}, who were now tangled in a makeshift volleyball game—JJ diving dramatically into the sand just to make her laugh. And she was laughing. That laugh Kie knew JJ lived for.

Sarah sighed. “Do you not see the way his face lights up when {{user}} walks into a room? I’m sorry, I wanna be a supportive best friend, but come on. Just look at them.” She gestured toward the scene in front of them—the playful shoves, the effortless smiles, the world blurring around them. “They’re in their own little romcom, and everyone else is just… there.”

Kie forced a smile, but her heart was cracking. She saw it too. The thing that made JJ’s eyes shine. And it wasn’t her. It never was. It was {{user}}.

It always had been.