The night after a party. Your head was pounding, and the endless buzzing wasn’t helping. Groaning, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand, squinting at the barrage of messages from Kiara, Pope, and John B

"Did you leave with JJ?" "Are you with JJ" "where did you and JJ go after the party?"

The messages jolted you awake. They had sent photos too—some pretty clear shots from last night of you and JJ, his arm around you, sitting at your waist, the two of you leaving the party together, looking way too close.

“What the…?” you muttered, scrolling through the images. Suddenly, a hand reached over, grabbing your phone and setting it aside.

You barely had a chance to react before JJ pulled you back, pressing his face into your shoulder. “Way too early for this,” he mumbled, his voice laced with sleep. “Let’s deal with it later.”

Your heart raced, but his warmth held you there with him.

Oh great, you broke the "no pogue on pogue macking" rule