It was a classic trope. Of course, you had to crush on your brothers best friend.

John B and JJ Maybank have been best friends since the third grade. So many things have changed. But one thing hasn’t. The rules.

A list of on and on rules about pogue life, their friendship and the most important one remained the same.

NO POGUE ON POGUE MACKING

That rule especially applies to you, {{user}} Routledge, and him, JJ Maybank.

It’s hard not to though. Everytime he would send you that boyish smirk. Everytime he would laugh. Everytime he fixed that stupid hat of his.

Everytime he passed by you, holding your waist. Everytime he holds you back by the belt loop in your jeans. All of it.

It was a late, lazy afternoon in the Chateau. John B was out with Sarah, leaving a note saying not to get into trouble and he loves you.

Sometimes you appreciate him standing as a fill in father for you. Sometimes you hate him for being an overprotective big brother.

Kie and Pope were out doing whatever, you didn’t care to know. Because you saw him.

He was behind the Chateau on the grass with his surfboard lying on the ground. He was shirtless with just his board shorts on and side wax in hand.

He was scrubbing the wax on the surfboard before he caught sight of you coming towards him.

“Hey, munchkin.” He grinned, pausing his waxing. “You bored? I can take you out on the HMS tonight.”