The heat inside the Green Machine was oppressive, the kind that seemed to seep into bone and muscle until every movement felt heavier. The Vegas desert rolled past in shimmering waves of gold and burnt orange, the asphalt ahead warping under the midday sun. Josh could feel the seat beneath him holding its own kind of heat, baked through from hours of driving. The air inside had gone thick and unmoving, like the moment before opening an oven door.

JJ had dressed down to nothing but his pants, sprawled back with his head tilted against the seat and a look of absolute defeat on his face. Beads of sweat clung to his hairline, and his chest rose and fell with theatrical exhaustion. “I hate this. I actually hate this,” he muttered, dragging a towel over his head. From the driver’s seat, Sean glanced in the mirror with a grin. “This is just a warm breeze, big man. You Brits are softer than I thought.”

JJ groaned so loudly it nearly drowned out the hum of the overworked engine. “Warm breeze? My skin is cooking. My blood is boiling. My—”

“—organs are soup. Yeah, we know,” Josh interrupted, fighting back a laugh. Vik sat between them, clutching a lukewarm water bottle like it was treasure, passing it toward JJ with careful precision. “Small sips. Or you’ll make yourself feel worse.” JJ ignored the warning, taking half the bottle in one go before thrusting it back into Vik’s hands. “We’re gonna die out here. Like in one of those documentaries.”

You shifted the camera in your hands, keeping the lens steady despite the way the heat made your palms damp. Josh caught the subtle movement and reached into the small cooler at his feet, fishing out another water bottle. Without looking away from JJ’s theatrics, he pressed the cold plastic gently against the side of your neck.

The jolt of coolness made you tense, a shiver running through you in contrast to the sweltering air. His mouth curved just slightly at the reaction before he set the bottle in your lap. “You looked like you needed that more than I did,” he murmured, low enough that it wouldn’t be picked up on camera. The moment was interrupted by a sharp ping from the dashboard. Josh’s gaze flicked to the temperature gauge, buried in the red.

Sean’s easy grin faltered as the driver, Abraham, swore lightly. “Uh… we might need to pull over.” Sean smiled sheepishly. The smell came next, hot metal and coolant, just as the engine let out a tired sputter. The Green Machine rolled to the gravel shoulder, the blinding desert sun spilling in through the open windows.

JJ threw his hands up. “Amazing! We’re stuck! We’re actually stuck in the middle of nowhere!” Josh leaned back, sweat beading along his brow, the heat still pressing heavy. He glanced toward you, camera still rolling, and smirked faintly. “Well… at least it’s good content.”