「✦ MJ'S KISS LIST ✦ 」

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THE NEXT MORNING. MJ woke up earlier than usual, her nerves buzzing like static electricity under her skin. She stretched out in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the excitement and anxiety inside her. Dating Rafe wasn't something she ever planned—it wasn't logical, it wasn't smart, and it wasn't safe. But logic hadn't stopped her from falling into this whirlwind with him.

By 9:45, she was ready. Her usual shorts and tank top were changed for something more practical: fitted jeans, a black cropped shirt, and boots. She kept the helmet he'd given her weeks ago stashed in a duffel under her bed, pulling it out now with a faint smile.

She crept outside, slipping past JJ and John B, who were arguing about something by the HMS Pogue. Neither noticed her duck behind the house, her heart hammering as she made her way to the end of the driveway.

Rafe's bike rumbled up at exactly 10:00, like clockwork. MJ's heart jumped at the sight of him—his buzzed hair catching the sunlight, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. He looked different now, leaner and sharper than the boy she remembered from school. His usual cocky smirk was firmly in place as he pulled up, lifting his visor.

"You're late," he teased, his voice low and easy.

MJ raised an eyebrow, slipping on her helmet. "You're lucky I even showed up. JJ's been up since sunrise—thought I'd have to climb out a window to get here."

Rafe chuckled, his hand resting casually on the handlebars. "You're sneaky. That's why this works." His fingers brushed hers briefly as she climbed onto the bike, the small touch sending a shiver down her spine.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as the engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through her body. This was their world—speed, freedom, and the brief escape from reality. No judgment, no Kook vs. Pogue nonsense. Just the road and each other.

As they weaved through backroads, the wind whipped past MJ's face, carrying away all the tension she'd felt sneaking out. She tightened her hold on Rafe's waist, feeling his muscles flex under her arms as he leaned into a turn. The thrill of being with him, of being free with him, made her forget for a moment how complicated everything else was.

They finally stopped at a quiet overlook, the spot only locals knew about. Rafe killed the engine, and silence fell around them except for the faint waves crash in the distance.

MJ climbed off the bike, pulled off her helmet and shook her hair. Rafe was watching her, his buzzed hair making his sharp blue eyes stand out even more as he smirked.

"You look good in leather," he said, his tone teasing but his gaze lingering.

"Don't get used to it," she shot back, cheeks flushed under his stare. She glanced at the horizon, the water glimmering in the sunlight. "This where you bring all your girlfriends?"

Rafe stepped closer, his expression softening in a way that made her chest tighten. "No. Just you."

His words caught her off guard, and she looked away, unsure what to say. Rafe Cameron wasn't supposed to make her feel this way—vulnerable, seen. Yet here she was, her defences crumbling a little more every time they were alone together.

"You're dangerous," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "So are you."

For a moment, the world around them disappeared. MJ felt the pull between them, undeniable and reckless, but she didn't care. When Rafe leaned in, she didn't stop him. His lips met hers, and everything else melted away—the Pogues, the Kooks, the danger of their secret. It was just them, and for now, that was enough.

MJ's breath caught as Rafe kissed her, his lips pressing against hers with a hungry urgency. There was no hesitation in how he moved, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to pull her closer. The heat of him was overwhelming, and the world seemed to tilt beneath her feet as she leaned into him, gripping the front of his shirt to steady herself.

When the kiss deepened, she couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. Rafe responded immediately, his free hand finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. She could feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching the rapid beat of her own.

"You drive me insane, you know that?" Rafe muttered against her lips, his voice rough and low.

MJ smirked, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. "Takes one to know one."

Before she could say anything else, his lips were on hers again, more insistent this time. His hands roamed her sides, sliding down to her hips as he backed her up against the bike. The cool metal against her back sent a jolt through her, contrasting with the heat radiating off his body.

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. She teased him, letting her nails rake lightly over his skin before slipping under the hem of his t-shirt. Rafe groaned at the contact, his lips leaving hers to trail down her jawline and to her neck.

"Rafe," she breathed, tilting her head back as his lips found the sensitive spot below her ear.

He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin. "You're not as tough as you act, MJ."

She grabbed his collar, pulling him back up to face her. "And you're not as smooth as you think," she shot back, though the teasing edge in her voice was softened by how she looked at him.

Rafe's smirk widened, and he leaned in, his hands gripping her waist tighter. "You're lying."

He kissed her again; this time, there was no room for teasing. The kiss was raw, electrifying, and left no doubt about the fire that simmered between them. MJ's fingers found their way into his buzzed hair, tugging lightly, and Rafe growled low in his throat, pressing her harder against the bike.

Their breaths mingled, and the world seemed to blur around them. MJ felt the edge of control slipping, the line between logic and desire becoming increasingly irrelevant. She was caught up in the moment, in how Rafe's hands seemed to know exactly where to touch to make her shiver.

"Someone could see us," she whispered, her voice shaky but not entirely convincing.

Rafe leaned back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite name. "Let them."

His words sent a thrill down her spine, and for a split second, she considered the consequences of being caught. But then his lips were on hers again, and the thought vanished as quickly as it had come.

The sound of another engine cut through the steamy haze surrounding MJ and Rafe, the distinct growl of a motorcycle growing closer. Rafe froze, his lips brushing hers as he tilted his head toward the noise. MJ's heart raced, a different kind of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Rafe stepped back slightly, his body still close enough that she could feel his heat. His brows furrowed as he watched the approaching bike, and MJ swallowed hard, trying to gather herself. The last thing they needed was someone stumbling upon them.

The bike stopped just a few feet away, the rider cutting the engine with a sharp flick of their wrist. As the figure dismounted, MJ's stomach twisted.

Kenyon.

He pulled off his helmet, revealing a face set in a stormy glare. His dark eyes flicked between them, and MJ felt the tension in the air spike to an unbearable degree.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Kenyon drawled, his voice sharp and dripping with sarcasm. He tossed his helmet onto his bike seat and moved closer, his gaze settling on Rafe with a look that could cut steel. "Didn't think I'd find you two out here. Together."

MJ opened her mouth to say anything, but her voice seemed to have abandoned her.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. He smirked, leaning casually against his bike as though Kenyon's arrival was nothing more than an inconvenience. "Got a problem, Kenyon?"

Kenyon's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Yeah, actually, I do," he shot back. His gaze darted to MJ, his expression softening slightly but still tinged with disappointment. "MJ, what the hell are you doing with him?"

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. "It's not what it looks like," she lied, though the words sounded weak even to her ears.

Kenyon snorted, his disbelief evident. "Really? Because it looks like you're making out with him in the middle of nowhere."

Rafe straightened, his smirk fading into something colder. "Careful, Kenyon," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Kenyon ignored him, focusing entirely on MJ now. "He's twenty, MJ. Twenty. What are you thinking?"

MJ flushed, a mix of embarrassment and frustration bubbling up inside her. "I'm thinking you don't get to judge me," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kenyon let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not judging you. I'm worried about you. Do you even realize what you're getting yourself into?"

Rafe stepped forward then, placing himself slightly in front of MJ. "She knows exactly what she's doing," he said, his tone icy.

Kenyon's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, the tension between him and Rafe crackling like a live wire. "Stay out of this, Cameron," he spat. "You don't care about her. You're just using her like you use everyone else."

Rafe's jaw clenched, and MJ could feel the anger radiating off him. She placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for him to back down, but he didn't move.

"You don't know a damn thing about me or what I care about," Rafe said, his voice dangerously calm.

Kenyon scoffed. "I know enough to see that you're bad news. And MJ deserves better than that."

"Stop it," MJ cut in, her voice louder than intended. Both guys turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of anger and concern. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I don't need either of you fighting over me like I'm some prize. This is my decision. Mine."

Kenyon looked like he wanted to argue, but he bit his tongue, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "Just think about what you're doing, MJ. That's all I'm asking."

With that, he returned to his bike, grabbed his helmet and climbed on. He paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. "You're better than this," he said quietly before starting the engine and driving off.

As the sound of his bike faded into the distance, MJ let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging. Rafe turned to her, his expression unreadable.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.

She nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure it was true. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "You don't have to listen to him, you know. He doesn't understand us."

MJ met his gaze, her chest tightening. "Maybe not. But he's right—I need to think about what I'm doing."

Rafe's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stepped back, giving her space. "I'll see you later," he said, his tone neutral, before climbing onto his bike and taking off.

As MJ watched him go, she couldn't shake the feeling that everything was spiralling out of control. 

────

MJ stormed down the dirt road, the crunch of gravel under her boots barely loud enough to drown out her swirling thoughts. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she muttered curses under her breath. Kenyon had no right to show up and ruin things. And Rafe—God, Rafe—why did he have to act like he didn't care about making things worse?

The evening air cooled her flushed skin, but it did nothing to ease her frustration. She pulled out her phone, staring at it momentarily before sighing. As much as she hated to call for help, walking all the way home wasn't an option.

She hit JJ's number and held the phone to her ear.

"Yo," JJ answered after a few rings, his voice casual. She could hear music in the background and the hum of an engine.

"Where are you?" she asked, trying to keep her tone even.

"Driving around with Kie. What's up?"

"Can you come get me?" she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

There was a pause on the other end. "Everything okay?"

"Just—can you, or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're on our way. Where are you?"

She gave him her location, and within ten minutes, the rumble of the Twinkie came into view. MJ stood on the side of the road, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently. The van rolled to a stop, and the passenger window rolled down to reveal Kiara in the passenger seat, her eyebrows raised.

"Trouble in paradise?" Kie asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

MJ glared at her as she yanked the door open and climbed into the backseat. "None of your business, Kie," she snapped, slamming the door shut.

JJ glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. "Are you good?" he asked.

"Peachy," MJ replied curtly, leaning back against the seat and crossing her arms.

Kie turned in her seat, giving MJ a pointed look. "You know, maybe if you didn't hang out with walking red flags like Rafe Cameron, you wouldn't need a ride home in the first place."

MJ's jaw tightened, but she refused to look away from Kie's challenging gaze. "And maybe if you spent less time pretending to be the moral compass of this group, you wouldn't be so insufferable."

JJ let out a low whistle, glancing between them nervously. "Alright, ladies, let's not turn the Twinkie into a battleground."

But Kiara wasn't letting it go. "I'm insufferable? You're the one sneaking around with Rafe like it's some forbidden romance. Do you even realize how dangerous he is?"

The tension in the Twinkie was unbearable as JJ drove, the engine hum doing little to soften the daggers Kiara was glaring at MJ.

"Look," MJ said finally, her voice sharp. "If you've got something to say, just spit it out, Kie. I'm not in the mood for your passive-aggressive BS tonight."

Kiara turned in her seat, her expression hard. "Oh, you want me to spit it out? Fine. You're never there for us, MJ. You only show up when your friends ditch you or you've got some drama you need us to bail you out of. You don't even care about this group."

JJ's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he glanced uneasily between the road and his twin through the rearview mirror. "Kie, come on—"

But Kiara wasn't stopping. Her voice rose, anger and frustration spilling out. "You think you're automatically part of this group because you're JJ's twin? Can you just waltz in and out whenever you feel like it? Newsflash, MJ: you're only here because of him. The rest of us never had a choice in that."

MJ's jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists in her lap. "Careful, Kie," she warned, her voice low.

Kiara let out a humourless laugh. "Careful? Why? You know it's true. You've never put in the effort. John B and Pope? They didn't want you around before Sarah came along. They were too busy trying to get laid to care about your attitude. And now? You think anyone's gonna take you seriously when you're sneaking off with Rafe freaking Cameron?"

The van swerved slightly as JJ's knuckles whitened on the wheel. "Alright, enough," he said, his voice tight with anger. "Both of you, shut up."

But MJ wasn't about to let Kie's words go unchecked. She leaned forward, her glare sharp enough to cut. "You want to talk about effort, Kie? You're always playing judge and jury with everyone else's lives. Like you're so perfect. I might not hang around as much as you want, but at least I don't make everyone walk on eggshells trying to live up to your stupid standards."

Kiara's face flushed with anger. "At least I'm not a selfish, toxic mess dragging everyone down with me."

MJ smirked, the fire in her eyes only growing. "Selfish? You're just mad you can't control me like you try to control everyone else. God forbid someone doesn't kiss the ground you walk on, Princess Kie."

"Enough!" JJ slammed the brakes, pulling the van to a jerking stop on the side of the road. He turned in his seat, his expression a mix of anger and exhaustion. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you two? We're supposed to be a team, not this."

Both girls fell silent, their anger simmering as JJ's words hung in the air. MJ leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Kiara turned back to face the front, her shoulders tense and her jaw clenched.

JJ sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before putting the van back in gear. "I don't care what's going on with either of you. Figure it out, or leave it out of the group. I'm done playing referee."

The ride continued in strained silence, the tension thick enough to choke. MJ stared out the window, her heart pounding with anger and hurt. Kie's words echoed in her head, each one like a slap in the face.

But if Kie thought she could break her, she had another thing coming. MJ wouldn't let anyone—Pogue or not—tear her down. Not without a fight.

The silence in the van was suffocating, the kind of quiet that thrummed with unspoken tension. MJ glared out the window, her mind spinning with Kie's words. Every accusation, every jab, boiled her blood. She clenched her fists, taking deep breaths to calm herself, but it didn't work.

"Y'know what, Kie?" MJ finally snapped, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "You've got some nerve talking about effort and loyalty when you're the biggest hypocrite here."

Kiara stiffened, her jaw tightening, but she didn't turn around.

"Oh, you don't like that? Tough." MJ leaned forward, her voice laced with venom. "You're always preaching about how we're supposed to stick together, about loyalty, but you're the first to turn on someone when they don't fit your little mould. You've been riding some high horse since Sarah came along, acting like you're the queen of the Pogues. Newsflash: you're not. You're just a spoiled rich girl pretending to slum it with the rest of us to feel good about yourself."

JJ groaned, but MJ wasn't done.

"You want to call me selfish? Let's talk about you for a second. You make everything about you. Every fight, every plan—it's all about how it affects you. Pope, John B, and even JJ—they all bend over backward to make sure you're happy and that you act like it's your God-given right. And if anyone dares to call you out? Boom. They're the problem. You're exhausting, Kie."

Kiara's breathing grew uneven, and when MJ glanced at her, she noticed her lip trembling.

"You want to go there, MJ?" Kiara's voice cracked, though she tried to sound tough. "At least I care. At least I'm here. You're just some sad little loner clinging to people who don't even like you!"

MJ laughed, but it was cold and humourless. "Really? That's what you've got? I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I don't need anyone to like me. I'm not insecure like you, desperate for attention and approval. The only reason people put up with your crap is because they're too nice to tell you the truth."

Tears were streaming down Kiara's face, and her voice was shaking. "You don't know anything about me."

MJ shrugged, her expression hard. "Trust me, I know more than enough about you. You're just like the Kooks you claim to hate—judgmental, self-righteous, and obsessed with control. The only difference is you wear thrift store clothes and call it rebellion."

That was the breaking point. Kiara turned her face away, her shoulders shaking as she quietly sobbed.

JJ cursed under his breath and pulled over again, throwing the Twinkie into the park. "Jesus Christ, MJ," he said, his tone sharp but not without sympathy. He slid an arm around Kiara, his voice softening as he tried to console her. "Kie, it's okay. Don't let her get to you."

Kiara sniffled, wiping at her eyes as JJ held her close. "I didn't mean for it to get this bad," she whispered, her voice broken.

JJ rubbed her back soothingly before glancing at MJ, his expression caught between frustration and resignation. "Look, Kie didn't have to go there earlier, but damn, MJ—you didn't have to take it that far either."

MJ crossed her arms, her eyes still cold. "She started it, JJ. I just finished it. Don't blame me for calling her out when she can't handle the truth."

JJ sighed heavily, his jaw clenching. "Yeah, and sometimes people need the truth, but you didn't have to crush her with it. She deserved to get checked, but not annihilated."

MJ shrugged again, unbothered. "Maybe now she'll think twice before running her mouth."

JJ shook his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and weariness. "God, you're ruthless."

"Better ruthless than a doormat," MJ shot back, leaning back against her seat as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for Kiara's soft sniffles. JJ kept his focus on the road, occasionally glancing at Kiara to ensure she was okay. But now and then, his eyes would flick to MJ, a mixture of respect and frustration simmering in his gaze.

For better or worse, MJ had made her point. Whether Kie could forgive her or JJ even wanted to pick a side wasn't her problem. Not tonight.

The Twinkie pulled up in front of Kiara's house, its brakes squeaking slightly as JJ threw it into park. Kie sniffled, still wiping at her eyes, her cheeks blotchy from crying. JJ gave her a quick hug before she slid out, muttering a soft "Thanks" without meeting MJ's gaze. She slammed the door harder than necessary, and the van jolted slightly.

MJ stayed silent, watching Kie disappear into her house before unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing into the front seat. She didn't look at JJ immediately, instead staring out the windshield as if the streetlights held the answers to the universe.

JJ sat back, gripping the steering wheel loosely, his knuckles brushing against his lap. The tension in the car was palpable, but the quiet hum of the engine was enough to keep it from suffocating them entirely.

"So," JJ finally said, his voice low but not as sharp as before, "you gonna tell me what the hell all that was about?"

MJ sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. "What do you want me to say, JJ? She came for me first."

"Yeah, and you went for her throat," JJ replied, giving her a pointed look. "Look, I get it. Kie's been... a lot lately, but damn, you didn't have to torch her entire life in one go."

"I know," MJ admitted, her voice softer now, her earlier fire extinguished. "I shouldn't have gone that far. But... she wasn't wrong."

JJ frowned, glancing at her. "What do you mean?"

MJ hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. She rarely let her guard down, even with JJ. But something about the weight of the night made her feel like she owed him an explanation.

"She's right about me not being around," MJ admitted, her voice tight. "I've... been a crappy friend to all of you. I just... I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I don't belong with you guys."

JJ turned to face her more fully, his brow furrowing. "What? MJ, come on. You're my twin. Of course, you belong."

She shook her head, her laugh bitter. "No, JJ. I'm just... there. Like Kie said. You and John B and Pope—you've always been a trio. Sarah fits in because, well, she's Sarah. And Kie, as annoying as she is, you guys love her. Me? I've just always been... extra. Like an afterthought. Even John B didn't want me around in the beginning."

JJ frowned. "That's not true."

MJ turned to him, her expression hard. "He didn't, JJ. He hated having me around until I gave him a reason to keep me close."

JJ blinked, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

MJ hesitated for a beat, then looked him dead in the eye. "I slept with him."

JJ froze, his hand slipping from the wheel. "What?!" he barked, his voice cracking halfway through the word. He sat up straighter, staring at her as if she'd just told him she was moving to Mars. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking, MJ."

"I'm not," MJ said flatly, though her voice carried a note of regret. "It was... stupid. I was fifteen, JJ. I thought I had to do that to make him like me."

JJ's face went pale, then red, his jaw clenching so tightly she thought his teeth might crack. "Jesus Christ, MJ!" he exploded, running a hand through his hair. "Fifteen?! What the—why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say?" she shot back, her voice rising defensively. "Hey, JJ, guess what? Your best friend finally decided I was worth keeping around after I let him screw me in the hammock?!"

JJ flinched, his hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. "You're my sister, MJ! How the hell could he—how could you—ugh!" He groaned loudly, shoving a hand through his hair again, clearly trying to process.

MJ's voice softened. "It wasn't like that. I mean, it wasn't good, but... he didn't force me or anything. I just... I wanted to feel like I mattered."

JJ closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to calm down. When he finally opened them, they were filled with anger, hurt, and protectiveness. "You've always mattered," he said quietly but firmly. "To me, at least. Screw what John B thought back then. He was a dumbass kid, and so were you. But you didn't need to do that, MJ. You didn't need to prove yourself to anyone."

She looked away, her throat tight. "Maybe. But it's done now. I can't change it."

JJ sighed, running his hand down his face. "God, MJ. You should've told me. I would've—"

"What? Fought him? Killed him? Made it worse?" She shook her head. "No, JJ. I didn't need you to fix it. I just needed... something. I don't even know what."

JJ leaned back in his seat, staring at the van's roof. "This is... a lot," he muttered. "But I swear to God, if he ever tries anything with you again, I'm putting him in the ground."

MJ snorted, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. "Relax, big brother. That ship sailed a long time ago. We've both moved on."

JJ didn't respond, his jaw still tight as he stared at the road. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "You don't have to prove yourself to anyone, MJ. Not me, not Kie, not John B, not anyone. You're my twin. That's enough. You're enough."

MJ blinked, her throat tightening again, but this time for a different reason. "Thanks, JJ," she said quietly.

He nodded, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. "Just... don't keep stuff like this from me again, okay? We're in this together, no matter what."

"Okay," she agreed, her voice soft. "I also kissed Pope when we were twelve." 

JJ nearly slammed on the brakes, swerving slightly before regaining control of the Twinkie. He whipped his head toward MJ, his face mixed with disbelief and exasperation. "Holy fuck, MJ. Is there anyone in the group you haven't kissed, or am I about to find out you've got a thing for Kiara too?"

MJ rolled her eyes, leaning back against the seat. "Relax, JJ. It wasn't like that. We were twelve. It was one of those stupid 'let's practice kissing so we're ready when it matters."

JJ groaned, running a hand down his face. "Twelve-year-old Pope? Practicing? God, that's an image I did not need." He shot her a look. "Did John B know about this?"

She snorted. "Of course not. Do you think Pope would survive that conversation? John B would've roasted him alive. He already teased Pope about not knowing how to flirt."

JJ shook his head, muttering under his breath. "You're a damn menace, MJ."

MJ grinned, shrugging. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

JJ's laughter was dry but genuine. "Yeah, no kidding. Jesus. My twin sister, wreaking havoc on the Pogues' romantic lives since middle school."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, come on, like you're one to talk. You've been kissing every girl with a pulse since... I don't know, forever?"

"Not every girl," JJ shot back, smirking slightly. "I've got standards."

"Sure you do," MJ teased, giving him a sidelong glance. "Just not high ones."

JJ laughed, the sound warm and familiar, cutting through the lingering tension from earlier. "You're lucky I love you, MJ. Anyone else, I'd be kicking out of this van."

She smiled softly, the playfulness fading into something more sincere. "I'm lucky you're my brother."

JJ glanced at her, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Damn right, you are."

The rest of the ride was quiet but comfortable, the weight of their earlier conversation lifting as they settled into the easy rhythm that only siblings could share. When they finally pulled into the driveway, JJ turned off the engine and looked at her again.

"Hey," he said, his tone serious but gentle. "You're more than enough, MJ. Don't forget that, okay?"

She nodded, her throat tight as she smiled. "Okay."

────

The silence between MJ and JJ stretched as they sat parked in the Twinkie in the dim glow of the porch light. JJ had turned off the engine, but neither of them moved to get out. He leaned back in his seat, his head resting against the headrest, his hand drumming lightly on the steering wheel. MJ stared out the window, her thoughts drifting.

"I think I'm gonna go out for a bit," MJ said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

JJ frowned, tilting his head to look at her. "It's late, MJ. What's the deal?"

She hesitated, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I just... I need to clear my head. It's not far."

He studied her for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing. "You're not going back to Rafe, are you?"

Her jaw tightened. "No, JJ. This has nothing to do with him."

He didn't push, sensing the edge in her tone. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. ... text me when you get there, okay? Wherever 'there' is."

She nodded, her throat tight. "Thanks, JJ."

Sliding out of the van, MJ started walking down the quiet road. The cool night air nipped at her skin, but she didn't care. Her feet carried her on autopilot, her heart pulling her to a place she hadn't visited in months.

It wasn't long before she stood in front of Zaza's grave, the small headstone glistening faintly under the moonlight. Her breath hitched as she crouched down, her fingers brushing against the engraved letters of her friend's name.

"Hey, Z," MJ murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while, huh?"

Her lips quirked into a sad smile as she sat cross-legged in the grass, the earth cool beneath her. "I screwed up again. Big surprise, right? Got into it with Kie tonight. She said some stuff that stung, but I returned it. And I hurt her, Z. I hurt her bad."

She exhaled shakily, the lump in her throat growing. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I feel like... I'm just floating like I don't belong anywhere. Not with the Pogues, not with my friends. Hell, not even with JJ sometimes. And then there's Rafe..." Her voice cracked at his name, and she shook her head, wiping her eyes. "You'd hate him, Z. You really would. But he makes me feel seen in a way I haven't. And it scares the hell out of me."

The silence around her felt deafening, the weight of her confession pressing heavily on her chest.

As the night stretched on, MJ remained by Zaza's grave, her heart heavy but a strange sense of peace settling over her. The sky was an inky black, and the faint pinpricks of stars barely broke through the thin canopy of trees. She traced her fingers over the name etched into the headstone, whispering.

"Why'd you have to invite me to that first party," she murmured.

The distant hum of an engine broke the stillness, her body tensing as the crunch of tires over gravel echoed through the cemetery. MJ froze, her breath catching as headlights swept over the gravestones, casting eerie, dancing shadows.

Her eyes darted toward the entrance, where a dark SUV stopped just a short distance away. Two men stepped out, the beams of the headlights obscuring their faces. MJ instinctively shrank back behind the headstone, her chest tightening with unease.

The taller two men reached into the backseat and pulled out a small bundle. MJ's stomach dropped as she recognized the white petals of lotus flowers, almost glowing in the faint light.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath, staying as still as possible.

As they approached Zaza's grave, the light shifted just enough for MJ to catch a good look at one of them—the broader man with a slight swagger to his step. Her blood ran cold.

Barry.

She'd know that scumbag dealer anywhere.

MJ pressed herself lower behind the headstone, her mind racing. Why the hell was Barry here? And why Zaza's grave?

Barry handed the flowers to the taller man, who knelt and placed them delicately at the base of Zaza's headstone. The act seemed almost reverent, completely at odds with everything MJ knew about Barry and his world.

"This all she gets?" Barry muttered, his tone low but laced with irritation.

The taller man glanced back at him and shrugged. "She's lucky she's gettin' this."

Barry scoffed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. The faint glow of the embers illuminated his face, and MJ's fists clenched as she fought the urge to leap out and confront him.

The two men lingered longer, exchanging a few hushed words before Barry flicked his cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out. They turned and headed back to the SUV without another glance at the grave.

The engine roared to life, and the vehicle disappeared down the dirt road, leaving MJ alone with her racing thoughts.

Her hands trembled as she stepped out from behind the headstone, her gaze fixed on the flowers now resting at Zaza's grave. They looked so out of place here—too deliberate, too calculated.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her stomach twisted with a mix of anger and unease. Barry showing up here meant something—something she probably didn't want to be a part of but now had no choice but to figure out.

Grabbing her phone, MJ dialled JJ. The line rang twice before he picked up, his voice was groggy but instantly concerned.

"MJ? Where the hell are you? You were supposed to text me."

"I'm at Zaza's grave," she said quickly, her voice shaking. "And I just saw Barry here. He dropped off flowers for her."

There was a beat of silence before JJ exploded. "What? Barry? What the actual—why would he—"

"I don't know," she interrupted, her words tumbling out in a rush. "But it felt... weird. Like he wasn't just here for her, can you get me? Please?"

"I'm on my way," JJ said without hesitation, his voice hard with determination.

As the line went dead, MJ stuffed her phone into her pocket and wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes lingered on the lotus flowers, her mind swirling with questions.

The rumble of JJ's truck hummed through the night as they headed back toward the house, the events from the cemetery replaying in MJ's mind. Her phone buzzed in her lap, breaking her concentration. She glanced down to see a message from Kenyon.

Kenyon: 

We need to talk.

She scowled at the screen, frustration bubbling up. She wasn't in the mood for him. The last thing she wanted was to revisit that night. She quickly typed back, her fingers trembling slightly.

MJ:

No 

Almost immediately, Kenyon's reply popped up.

Kenyon: 

It's about Zaza's case.

Her breath hitched. Zaza's case? She hadn't heard anything new about it since the initial report ruled her death as an overdose.

MJ: 

What about it?

JJ glanced over, sensing her tension. "Who's texting you this late?"

"Kenyon," MJ muttered, staring at the phone, trying to process what he could want.

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Kenyon? Are you sure you wanna talk to him? The last time he was involved in anything, it ended badly."

MJ shrugged it off, ignoring the chill in her gut. "It's fine. He's just—" She trailed off as a new message from Kenyon came in.

Kenyon: 

Her family pushed for another forensic report. It came back an hour ago.

Her pulse quickened. What the hell was that supposed to mean? MJ typed back quickly.

MJ: 

What does it say?

JJ turned to her, voice softening with concern. "What's going on?"

MJ barely noticed him. She was too focused on the screen before her, waiting for Kenyon's response.

Kenyon: 

The report came back. 

It's not an overdose. 

Zaza was assaulted. 

She had head trauma.

Her heart dropped. The world seemed to tilt for a moment as the message sank in. Assaulted. Head trauma. Her mind raced—none of it made sense. Why would anyone hurt Zaza?

"Shit," she whispered under her breath. "It wasn't an overdose."

JJ frowned, clearly sensing the change in her mood. "What? What did he say?"

MJ blinked, suddenly aware of how tightly she was gripping her phone. She read Kenyon's message aloud, her voice trembling. "It says... it says Zaza wasn't an overdose victim. She was assaulted. She had head trauma."

JJ's expression shifted instantly, his face hardening. "What the hell? That doesn't make sense. How could they miss that before?"

"I don't know," MJ muttered, feeling the weight of it all crash down on her. "But it changes everything."

JJ gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. "This is bullshit. Why would they cover it up like that? First, it's an overdose, now it's assault? Something's off here, MJ."

"I don't trust Kenyon," MJ said quietly, staring at the phone in her lap. "Something doesn't feel right."

Just as she said that Kenyon's name flashed on the screen again, she frowned, almost afraid to read what he'd say next.

Kenyon: 

I didn't know they would push for another report. 

I thought everything was settled. I swear, I didn't know this would come back.

MJ's chest tightened as she read the message. There was something too defensive in his tone, too much like he was trying to convince her. The words didn't sit right.

MJ: 

What do you mean by "settled"?

Kenyon didn't reply for a moment, then his message came through, a little slower this time.

Kenyon: 

Look, we all thought it was just an overdose.

 I had no idea the family was still digging into it. I

 didn't know this report would say that.

"That sounds like he's hiding something," JJ muttered, his voice low but filled with suspicion. "He's acting like he's covering his ass."

MJ's gut twisted. She couldn't shake the feeling that Kenyon knew more than he was letting on. Her mind was racing with possibilities—Zaza was pushed, assaulted, and somehow, it was all tied to someone who had been too close, too involved. The way Kenyon phrased things made it sound like he was caught off guard, but MJ didn't buy it.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her voice betraying her unease. "It's not adding up."

They drove silently for a moment, the weight of the new information pressing down on them. The images of Zaza's grave, the flowers, Barry showing up were all starting to connect in a way that made MJ's skin crawl.

"Kenyon's hiding something," JJ finally said, his voice sharp. "I don't care what he says. Stay away from him."

"I know," she murmured, staring out the window, lost in thought. "But it's not just him. The more I think about it... I'm not sure we can trust anyone right now."

The truck rolled through the darkened streets, the silence between them thick with unspoken questions. MJ's mind was filled with unanswered questions: Who killed Zaza? And why were they covering it up?

She felt the weight of it all, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if the truth would set her free—or bury her deeper.

The truck's tires hummed against the pavement, the steady sound almost rhythmic in the thick silence between them. MJ's phone was still clutched in her hand, the glow from the screen casting a faint light on her furrowed brow.

"JJ..." she started, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. "Do you think Kenyon had something to do with it?"

JJ shot a quick look her way, his jaw tight. He hadn't been fully on board with trusting Kenyon for a while, but hearing the new details about Zaza's death only intensified his suspicion. He had that edge in his voice, the one that always showed up when he was thinking something through but didn't want to say it out loud. "I don't know, but it sure looks like it. Why else would he be so defensive? People only get that way when trying to cover their tracks."

MJ bit her lip, trying to suppress the swell of panic rising in her chest. "You think he could've... hurt her? Or know who did?"

JJ's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I don't know, but it's not adding up, MJ. And the way he's acting? That doesn't sit right with me."

They both fell silent again, the weight of what they'd uncovered settling like a storm cloud between them. MJ's mind reeled as she tried to piece together the details. Barry dropped the lotus flowers, Kenyon's strange reaction, the new forensic report—everything felt like it was coming to a head. Too many things didn't make sense.

"Do you think we should tell the others?" MJ finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

JJ's eyes flicked to her. "I'm not sure it's the right time. If Kenyon's hiding something, it could worsen things, especially if we don't have the whole picture. We need more."

MJ nodded, though a part of her still wanted to tell the others, wanted to feel like she wasn't carrying the burden alone. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous, like everything would fall apart if she moved even an inch.

As they neared the house, JJ glanced at her, his face softening just a bit. "I know you're worried about all this, but you don't have to do it alone, okay? We'll figure it out."

She smiled faintly, appreciating the offer but not quite able to shake the feeling that they were already too deep. "I know, but sometimes, it feels like I'm the one who always has to pick up the pieces."

"You're not alone in this, MJ," JJ reiterated, his voice firm. "You've got me. You've got all of us."

The truck slowed as they pulled up to the driveway. MJ stared out the window for a moment, lost in thought. "I just wish I knew what happened. It's like... Zaza's death is connected to everything that's been going on. And I don't know who I can trust anymore."

JJ didn't answer right away. Instead, he killed the engine and got out of the truck, coming around to MJ's side and offering his hand to her. "Come on. Let's get inside. We'll figure this out. Together."

She took his hand and stepped out of the truck, her mind still racing, the weight of everything pressing on her chest. But as she followed him up to the porch, she felt a small relief, knowing that at least for now, she had someone by her side.

When they walked into the house, the dim light of the living room barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the furniture. JJ headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a beer and popping the cap. MJ lingered near the door, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"You're gonna be okay," JJ said, his voice quieter now. "We'll figure out who's behind this. And if Kenyon's involved, we'll ensure he gets what's coming to him."

MJ met his gaze, her heart heavy but grateful. "I hope so, JJ. I hope so."

Before she could say anything else, her phone buzzed again, startling her. She hesitated for a moment before checking it.

Kenyon: 

They're still digging into the case. 

I don't know how much longer I can keep up this lie.

The message sent a chill through her veins.