The next morning felt unusually slow.

Mia had barely sat down with her coffee when her phone rang again.

She glanced at the screen and sighed.

“Mom…”

Her mother didn’t waste time. “Did you sleep well?”

Mia narrowed her eyes. “That’s a suspiciously specific question.”

“I’m your mother.”

“That doesn’t answer it.”

A soft laugh came through the line.

“I spoke to Alex’s mother again,” her mom said casually.

Mia froze slightly. “Why does that sound like a recurring meeting?”

“Because it is,” her mother replied. “We’re finalizing the trip.”

Mia leaned back. “There’s more?”

“Yes. We’ve decided to go together. All of us. Like old times.”

Mia already didn’t like how organized that sounded.

“Old times?” she repeated.

“College days,” her mother said warmly. “Your father, Alex’s father—they were close friends. And we—your mother and I—were best friends at university.”

Mia blinked. “So this is… a reunion.”

“Call it a family trip,” her mother corrected. “We’ve already arranged everything. Leave approved, resort booked.”

We already arranged leave with your office contact.”

Mia froze. “You WHAT?”

Her mother didn’t even hesitate. “Don’t worry. Everyone agreed.”

Mia turned her head slowly toward Alex.

He was already listening.

Of course he was.

“That was fast,” Mia muttered.

“Efficient,” her mother corrected proudly.

Mia sighed. “You people are dangerous when you coordinate.”

“You’ll thank us later.”

“I doubt it.”

“You won’t,” her mother said cheerfully. “Pack properly. We leave this evening.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Mia stared at her phone.

“…I didn’t agree to this emotionally.”

By evening, everything was already moving.

Two cars, one destination, and far too much shared history packed into polite conversation.

The parents were in their own world almost instantly.

Laughter came easily between them, like time hadn’t passed at all.

Mia leaned against the car window as Alex drove, watching the road stretch ahead.

“This feels planned,” she said again.

“It is planned,” Alex replied calmly.

“That doesn’t help.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

She glanced at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m observing it,” he corrected.

“That’s worse.”

He smiled slightly.

The resort was quiet and open, surrounded by trees and soft evening light.

By the time they arrived, the parents had already taken control of the atmosphere—checking in, chatting, laughing like they owned the place.

Dinner was long.

Too long.

And loud.

Stories overlapped, old jokes resurfaced, memories that made everyone laugh harder than necessary.

Mia sat between Alex and her mother, occasionally exchanging glances with him when conversations became too chaotic.

At one point, their mothers started talking about college again.

“Back when we used to plan trips like this all the time,” her mother said.

“And drag them along,” Alex’s mother added, nodding toward their fathers.

Mia groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m part of a documentary?”

Alex leaned slightly toward her. “Because you are.”

“I didn’t consent to narration.”

“You never do.”

That earned him a light kick under the table.

He didn’t even flinch.

By night, everything finally settled.

The resort corridors were quiet, warm lighting reflecting off wooden walls.

Rooms were assigned without discussion.

Naturally.

Mia stood near her door when her mother called out, “Separate rooms. Don’t overthink it.”

Mia sighed. “I wasn’t going to—”

“You were,” her mother said confidently.

Alex passed her in the hallway, giving her a small look.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“You’re acting too normal,” she muttered.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Before she could reply, he entered his room.

But the night didn’t stay normal.

It was too quiet.

Too separated.

Mia stood near the window in her room after freshening up, wrapped in a light robe, staring out at the dark trees swaying outside.

Across the corridor, Alex sat in his room for a while, waited in his room, counting the minutes until the last light under his parents' door flickered out. His heart hammered against his ribs as he eased his window open, the cool night air rushing in to kiss his skin. The ledge was narrow, but he knew every handhold by heart—the loose brick near the drainpipe, the slight dip where the mortar had worn away. He moved with practiced stealth, landing silently on the soft grass below before circling to the side of the house where Mia's window waited, unlocked as always.

Inside, her room smelled of lavender and the faint trace of her body wash. The bed was unmade, clothes draped over the chair. He sat on the edge of her mattress, listening to the muffled sound of water running through the pipes—she was still in the bathroom. His fingers traced the pattern on her comforter, nerves and anticipation winding together in his gut. When the bathroom door finally clicked open, he held his breath.

Mia stepped out, a towel wrapped tightly around her body, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. The towel was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and the sight of her bare legs, the curve of her hip where the fabric pulled tight, struck him like a physical blow. She froze the moment she saw him, her eyes widening—first in shock, then in a flicker of joy that softened her features. "Alex? What are you—" she started, but he was already on his feet, crossing the room in two strides.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. The towel shifted, threatening to slip, but he didn't care. Her skin was warm and damp from the shower, the scent of soap filling his senses. He kissed her hard, hungry, pouring all the longing of the past few days into that single press of lips. She melted into him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, her mouth opening under his. When he broke the kiss, he was breathless. "I'm not letting you sleep tonight," he murmured against her ear, his voice rough.

Mia pulled back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes darting toward the wall that separated her room from their parents'. "They're right next door, Alex," she whispered, her voice tight with warning. "If they hear even a single sound—footsteps, a creak, anything—it's over. You'll have to go back to your room before we do anything stupid."

He wanted to argue, but the logic in her eyes was undeniable. Reluctantly, he released her, watching as she pulled a loose T-shirt and cotton shorts from her drawer. She turned her back to him as she let the towel drop, and he caught a glimpse of the smooth curve of her spine before she dressed quickly. When she turned back, her expression was soft, almost sad. "Come here," she said, pulling him down onto the bed.

They lay facing each other, bodies close, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. The world narrowed to the warmth of her breath, the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat under his palm. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, her head tucking into the hollow of his shoulder. "I'll leave before dawn," he promised, pressing a kiss to her hair. She hummed in response, already half-asleep, and he let himself drift in the comfort of her presence.

The night had been a fever dream of whispers, stolen kisses, and the impossible warmth of two bodies pressed together. Alex had meant to slip out before the first rays of light crept through the curtains, but sleep had claimed him deep and heavy, his arm draped over Mia's waist, her face buried in his chest. Their breathing synchronized, they lay in the quiet cocoon of her room, utterly oblivious to the world beyond the door.

The click of the doorknob was soft, barely a sound, but it was followed by the unmistakable creak of the hinges. Mia's mother stepped inside, holding a laundry basket, a half-formed thought about collecting towels dying on her lips. She froze. There, tangled in the sheets, her daughter and Alex lay in a tangle of limbs, their faces slack with sleep. A bare leg peeked out from under the comforter. Alex's arm was draped possessively across Mia's stomach. They looked peaceful.

Her mother's hand flew to her mouth, suppressing a laugh. She pulled out her phone, carefully framing the shot—the soft morning light caught their profiles just right. She snapped a photo, then tapped her contacts and video-called Alex's mother. The screen flickered to life, a sleepy face appearing. "Look at this," she whispered, turning the camera toward the bed. "They didn't even hear me come in." Her friend gasped, then burst into silent laughter, covering her mouth. "Oh my God, they're dead to the world. Are you going to wake them?" Mia's mother shook her head, still grinning. "Let them have their fun. Breakfast is ready, but I'm not ruining this picture."

She ended the call, pocketed her phone, and quietly backed out of the room, pulling the door almost shut. She paused, looked back at the sleeping pair, and shook her head with a fond smile before heading downstairs to finish making breakfast.

The sun climbed higher, spilling golden light across the bed. A bird chirped loudly outside the window, and Alex stirred first, consciousness returning in slow waves. He blinked, the unfamiliar angle of the ceiling reminding him where he was. Then memory crashed back—Mia's body warm against his, the night before, and the terrible realization that the morning had come and he hadn't left. He jerked upright, his heart pounding. "Mia," he hissed, shaking her shoulder. "Mia, wake up. It's morning. We overslept."

She groaned, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Then her eyes flew open, wide and panicked. "What time is it? Did anyone—" She glanced at the door, still closed. They had no way of knowing her mother had already come and gone. "You need to get out. Now."

Alex vaulted off the bed, pulling on his jeans and T-shirt from the night before. He shoved his feet into his shoes without bothering with socks. "I'll go through the window, then sneak in the front door. Act like I just woke up." He pressed a quick, frantic kiss to her lips. "I'll see you at breakfast."

He scrambled out the window, dropped to the grass, and sprinted around the house. Inside, he tiptoed to his room, stripped off his rumpled clothes, and jumped into the shower for a thirty-second rinse. By the time he emerged in fresh jeans and a clean shirt, his hair still damp, his face was composed into a mask of casual morning grogginess.

Mia, meanwhile, had torn off her sleep shirt, yanked on a sundress, and brushed her hair in record time. She splashed cold water on her face, checked for any telltale marks on her neck, and took a deep breath before padding downstairs.

They arrived at the breakfast table within moments of each other. Their mother sat at the head of the table, sipping coffee, a plate of pancakes steaming in the center. She looked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Good morning, sleepers. You both look well-rested." She took another sip, slow and deliberate. Alex and Mia exchanged a glance, their cheeks flushing. They mumbled their greetings and sat down, reaching for the syrup at the same time, their fingers brushing.

Under the table, Mia's hand found his knee and squeezed. Their mother picked up her phone, humming softly. She didn't show them the picture, but the knowing smile never left her face.