The sound of cicadas hummed in the background as JJ leaned back on the porch steps of The Chateau, his surfboard propped up beside him. {{user}} sat cross-legged next to him, her hair still damp from their impromptu swim in the creek. Neither of them spoke much. They didn’t have to. It had always been that way—easy, comfortable, like the spaces between their words didn’t need filling.

“You remember that time we snuck out to the docks when we were kids?” JJ asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

{{user}} tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “You mean the time you dared me to jump in, but you were too chicken to do it yourself?”

JJ shot her a mock glare, but he couldn’t hide the grin that followed. “Hey, I went in eventually!”

“After I dragged you,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I let you. Wanted to make you feel like a hero.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. It was moments like this—small, unremarkable on the surface—that meant the most. The kind where the world fell away, leaving just the two of them and the kind of connection that felt rare.

“I’m glad we still do this,” she said softly, glancing over at him.

“Do what?”

“This,” she gestured to the stars above them, the quiet creek in the distance, and the worn wooden steps they sat on. “Just… hang out. Be us.”

JJ’s smile softened, something unspoken passing between them. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s nice to have someone who gets it. Who gets me.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, but {{user}} didn’t press. She just rested her head on his shoulder, and they stayed like that, watching the fireflies dance in the distance.

It wasn’t fireworks or grand confessions. It was something simpler, steadier. The kind of bond that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt. And in that moment, they both knew: it was nice to have a friend.