𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 || 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎

      THE SUN HUNG LOW in the sky as the Pogues piled out of the Twinkie, the tension crackling like electricity. Leaves rustled overhead, and the Crain house loomed ahead of them—old, foreboding, and as eerie as the legends said it would be.

Avery Street hopped out of the car and adjusted her tank top. Her little loose denim shorts were faded and frayed at the hem, hanging perfectly low on her hips. Her dark hair was tied in a messy ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face. Her skin had a golden glow under the afternoon sun, and there was something about her presence—effortless and easy—that made the unease of the house seem smaller. She looked over her shoulder at JJ, who stood beside her with his hands on his hips, surveying the decaying house like it was about to swallow them whole.

"Worst-case scenario," Avery quipped with a smirk, breaking the silence.

"Worst-case scenario?" JJ echoed, looking at her sideways. "The worst case is we all lose our heads, literally."

"Relax, Maybank." She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. "You've still got me. I'll drag your headless body out if it comes to that."

JJ grinned, shaking his head as the others started to gather.

"Why'd it have to be here... of all places?" Kie muttered, arms crossed as she stared at the house.

The banter started, one tale after another about Mrs. Crain, JJ leading the charge. "Told me the truth... about her mother and what happened in this house," he began, his voice dropping dramatically.

Avery walked alongside him, watching him tell the story like he was some campfire performer. "Are you seriously telling me you believe this?"

"I swear on my life!" JJ shot back, eyes wide. "It's all true. I'm not even joking."

"Sure, Maybank," Avery teased, but there was amusement in her voice. "A decapitated head in an outhouse? Real believable."

As they broke into groups, John B called out, "I'll search the northeast quadrant. JJ, you and Avery take the northwest."

JJ spun toward Avery, an exaggerated smirk on his face. "You ready for the decapitation quadrant?"

Avery let out a dramatic sigh. "Guess someone's gotta keep you from pissing yourself."

JJ barked a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, tough talk."

The two trudged through the overgrown brush, the heat of the afternoon sticky against their skin. Avery wiped sweat off her brow, her ponytail bobbing as she glanced around. JJ kept stealing glances at her, noticing the way her tan legs moved effortlessly over uneven ground, like she belonged out here.

"You know," JJ started, "I still think about the kiss."

Avery stopped abruptly, turning to face him. "Oh, we're really doing this here? Now? With Mrs. Crain's ghost lurking in the bushes?"

JJ grinned, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his cutoffs. "What? I'm just saying."

Avery arched an eyebrow, but there was no bite in her tone. "It happened, JJ. We kissed. Doesn't mean you need to write a sonnet about it."

He tilted his head, stepping closer. "What if I want to?"

Avery rolled her eyes, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She gave him a playful shove and kept walking. "Focus, Romeo. We're looking for treasure, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, treasure," JJ muttered, following behind her with a lopsided grin. "Still think we should circle back to the kiss later."

The quiet grew heavier as they wandered deeper into the woods. Sounds amplified—rustling leaves, woodpeckers drilling, and the occasional burst of wings flapping. JJ jumped when a bird startled from a branch, nearly smacking into Avery's back.

"Oh, shit—"

Avery turned, her hands on her hips. "You good?"

"Perfectly fine," JJ mumbled, clearing his throat as she laughed softly.

They rejoined the others just in time for Pope to stumble upon the hidden wall. The water's echo bounced eerily through the basement, and JJ instinctively edged closer to Avery.

"This is where she hid the bodies," JJ whispered, leaning close to her ear.

Avery gave him a side-eye. "If you don't shut up, you're gonna be the body I hide."

JJ grinned but said nothing else as the group pried open the boards. Water splashed against the ground, the sound sharp and hollow.

"Well, well, well," Pope said smugly, grinning down into the gloom.

"That was a good dad joke," John B said, deadpan.

JJ's voice was hushed but theatrical as he stared at the water. "This is it, man. The hiding spot."

Avery crouched beside him, her denim shorts brushing against the wood. "Or," she said dryly, "just a really old basement. You ever think of that?"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" JJ teased, turning to look at her.

Avery glanced up at him, their faces close for just a beat too long. "Right here, Maybank," she said softly before standing and brushing dirt off her hands.

JJ watched her walk off to join the others, something lingering in his expression—a mix of frustration, fascination, and something softer he couldn't quite name.

"We're gonna need a really big rope," John B called out, snapping JJ out of it.

"And maybe a priest," JJ muttered, earning a snort from Avery.

The group stared into the water, the promise of answers—and danger—dangling just below the surface. JJ stood next to Avery, close enough that their arms brushed.

"Still think I'm full of shit?" he asked quietly.

Avery smirked, looking up at him with a playful gleam in her eyes. "Oh, absolutely."

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. "You're impossible, Street."

"And yet you keep following me around," she shot back, leaning against him just slightly before pulling away with a laugh.

The group's focus turned back to the water, but JJ couldn't help stealing one more glance at Avery, her dark hair falling loose again, her tank top damp with sweat, and that self-assured smirk still firmly in place.

Even if they didn't find the treasure, JJ knew one thing for certain—Avery Street was already starting to feel like one.