You and JJ have kept your arrangement quiet — meeting up after midnight, sneaking off during Pogue hangouts, pretending the two of you don’t exchange heated looks across the HMS Pogue. It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be secret. It was supposed to have no strings. But ever since you hooked up in the Twinkie a week ago, JJ’s been acting like you belong to him — stepping between you and flirty tourists, sitting too close, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident.