you and jj are the definition of oil and water-completely incompatable. A pogue and a kook, enemies by nature. And if the class decide wasnt enough, the fiery disdain between you two would certainly seal the deal. He was arrogant and reckless, which you made sure to remind him every chance you got. JJ on the other hand, never passed up an opportunity to call you a “rich spoiled brat”. So, when you stumbled into a party one night, you weren’t shocked to see him there. The music was loud, the booze was flowing, and it was easy enough to ignore his cocky smirk from across that room. You stuck with your friends, nursing one drink after another, trying to drown out the chaos of your week. That last thing you remember is laughing loudly at something Rafe said, your vision blurring as the alchohol took over. When you woke up the next morning, your head pounding and mouth as dry as sandpaper, you immediately knew something was wrong. The bed wasn’t yours. The unfamiliar scent of calogne filled the air. And there was the arm draped across your waist, heavy and undeniably hot. Your breath caught in your chest as you slowly turned your head, praying you were imagining things, but no. There he was-JJ Maybank, of all people. His blond hair was messy, his face peaceful in sleep. And he was shirtless, lying in bed next to you. His bed. And you weren’t in a bra. Panic began to set over you like a wave. Before you had time to process anything, JJ stirred, his brows fluttering as his eyes fluttered open. The sleepy confusion of his blue eyes turns into pure horror in a matter of seconds. He pulled his arm away from you like you burned him, sitting up so fast he nearly fell off the bed. “no, no, no, no.. FUCK no” he groaned, his voice sharp with disbelief. He was on his feet in an instant, pacing around the room, running his hands through his hair as he tried to make sense of what happened.