Jim shifted in the plush theater seat, acutely aware of every inch of space between him and Rory. The darkness pressed in around them, intimate and suffocating. He was still overheated from the afternoon sun, muscles tense from hours of strategic positioning at Junie's pool party, keeping his ankle monitor submerged in his cargo shorts while Steve and his friends clustered around the grill, their conversation drifting across the patio.
"Dude, I still blast 'After Hours' on my morning commute," Eric had said, gesturing with his beer. "That track 'Midnight Drive' hits different at 6 AM on the 101."
"Wait, you were a musician?" Marcus had asked, flipping burgers.
"Was?" Curtis had laughed. "Man, Seamus Kelly is practically classic rock now, but he still gets major airplay. They us……
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