#abbaf1

summary:

On a summer getaway to Santorini, Greece, Y/N finds herself staying in a charming Airbnb with her family, soaking in the breathtaking views and vibrant atmosphere of the island. However, what was supposed to be a peaceful vacation takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that they’ll be sharing the house with none other than Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, who’s also vacationing with his family.

At first, the arrangement feels awkward, the two worlds of celebrity racing and her relatively normal life as a collegiate student colliding in the most unforeseen way. But as the days go by, the initial surprise gives way to something deeper. As they explore the sun-drenched beaches, dine in quaint tavernas, and experience the lively nightlife of Santorini, Y/N and Oscar find themselves drawn to each other in ways they hadn’t anticipated.

As the sun sets over the Aegean Sea, and the lively energy of the island comes alive at night, Y/N and Oscar find themselves spending more time together, entertwined in a steamy and fast-paced romance. The backdrop of Santorini's iconic white-washed buildings, azure waters, and the laid-back Greek lifestyle set the stage for a summer romance that's as unexpected as it is intense.

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─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────── 04: Dinner Table Tango (Put Me On TV Netflix)

Our usual dinners were low-key affairs—think microwaved leftovers, a quick pasta dish, or maybe some takeout eaten in front of the TV while my mom narrated the latest drama from whichever reality show was her current obsession. Tonight, though, was a whole different beast. It was like we’d accidentally wandered into a chaotic crossover episode of MasterChef meets a reality TV reunion: there were kabobs piled high on platters, enough side dishes to feed an entire neighborhood, and a whirlwind of personalities that made it feel like every seat at the table came with its own subplot.

Oscar’s dad, Chris, had turned the backyard grill into his personal stage, flipping kabobs with the flair of a man who was auditioning for his own cooking show. Each turn of the skewer came with commentary, like, “See that sear? That’s what you call perfection,” and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was preparing a meal for a panel of judges instead of a casual dinner. Nicole, Oscar’s mom, hovered nearby, nodding along as if she hadn’t heard his grilling philosophy a thousand times before, while my mom, Belle, politely sipped her wine, pretending to be fascinated by every culinary revelation.

At the table, Hattie, Edie, and Mae were buzzing with their usual sibling energy—Hattie and Mae were whispering about something that kept making them burst into giggles, while Edie was eyeing the dessert like it was the final boss in a video game she was determined to conquer. Every few seconds, they’d shoot each other knowing looks, their inside jokes and side comments flying faster than I could keep up.

I picked up a plate and tried to navigate my way through the lively chaos, eyeing a seat at the far end of the table where I could blend into the background. But as soon as I moved, Oscar was there—close enough that I could practically feel the heat radiating off his skin from the sun and the pool. I placed my plate down, aiming for a spot near the drinks, but no sooner had I set my food down than Oscar plopped down next to me, grinning like this was all part of some game only he knew the rules to.

I moved again, feigning a casual stroll to the other end, but Oscar followed, a smug smile playing on his lips as he sat down beside me once more. I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it, each move feeling like a dance where I kept trying to sidestep and he kept closing in.

I finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you planning to follow me all night, or are you just allergic to sitting anywhere else?”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, that infuriatingly confident grin never wavering. “What can I say? You’re the best seat in the house,” he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, I promised you great dinner company, didn’t I?”

“You’re like a lost puppy,” I muttered, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Except more annoying.”

He just laughed, nudging my arm playfully. “I prefer ‘persistent’—sounds cuter. But if being annoying gets me the best view, then I’ll take it.”

Nicole glanced over from across the table, her mom radar obviously picking up on the exchange. “Oscar, sweetie, why don’t you give her a little space?” she teased, though the gleam in her eyes suggested she was enjoying this far too much.

Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Why would I? I’m right where I want to be.”

Belle, my mom, was clearly entertained, watching us like she’d just tuned into her favorite show. “You know, if he keeps this up, you might need to get him his own seat belt,” she joked, topping off her wine as she watched Oscar stick to my side like glue.

I rolled my eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but the warmth of his presence was impossible to ignore. “Don’t encourage him,” I mumbled, but even as I said it, I couldn’t help but feel a strange thrill. Oscar’s persistence was absurdly charming, and no matter how much I tried to brush it off, his attention felt like its own kind of spotlight, casting everything in a new, exciting light.

The table was loud with laughter and overlapping conversations, skewers being passed around and plates filling up with everything from grilled corn to tangy salads. I tried to focus on my food, savoring the perfectly marinated kabobs and buttery potatoes, but Oscar’s constant presence kept pulling me back in, his playful nudges and whispered comments making it impossible to forget he was right there, next to me, watching every reaction.

“You really do have a knack for this,” I said, nudging him back just as he reached for another skewer.

Oscar flashed me a quick, sideways smile, his eyes twinkling. “For what, dinner? Or following you around like it’s my job?”

“Both,” I shot back, but the lightness in my voice betrayed how much I was enjoying the banter.

Oscar chuckled, spearing a piece of grilled zucchini with his fork. “Well, I’m nothing if not dedicated,” he said, popping it into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish. “And hey, if I’m going to be annoyingly persistent, I might as well be charming about it, right?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no malice behind it, only a growing sense of ease that came from how effortlessly he slipped into conversation with me. “Is that what this is? Charm? I thought it was just a fancy word for stalking.”

He laughed, a low, easy sound that sent a shiver down my spine despite the warm evening air. “Stalking’s such a strong word. I prefer ‘being attentive.’ You know, keeping an eye on the competition.” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he whispered, “Plus, it’s kind of fun to see you all flustered.”

I felt my cheeks warm instantly, and I shoved a forkful of salad into my mouth to cover up my embarrassment. “You’re the worst,” I mumbled around the bite, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Am I, though?” he teased, nudging my leg under the table with his foot. “Because it kind of seems like you like it.”

I swallowed, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. “You wish,” I shot back, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew he could see right through me.

Nicole, who had been listening to our back-and-forth with thinly veiled amusement, finally chimed in. “Oscar, honey, you might want to ease up before she throws you in the pool,” she said, winking at me. “But if she does, don’t worry—I’m sure you can swim.”

Oscar didn’t miss a beat, turning to his mom with a cheeky grin. “Oh, I’m not worried. I think she’d just jump in after me.”

I tried to keep my composure, but it was impossible not to laugh at his relentless confidence. “Keep dreaming, hotshot,” I said, giving him a playful shove, but even as I said it, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of exasperation and excitement at his attention.

Belle leaned over, her eyes twinkling as she passed me the breadbasket. “You’re handling him well,” she whispered with a smirk. “Most girls would’ve dunked him by now.”

I shot her a look of mock horror. “Trust me, it’s tempting. But I think he likes the attention too much.”

Oscar, who apparently had supersonic hearing when it came to anything involving himself, leaned in again, this time closer than before, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, I definitely do. But between you and me, I think you like it too.” He raised his glass in a mock toast, his eyes never leaving mine. “To good company and making the most of dinner.”

I clinked my glass with his, trying to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach at the way he was looking at me—like I was the only person at the table worth paying attention to. “To you not annoying me for five minutes,” I countered, but my smile gave away how much I was actually enjoying every second of it.

Oscar’s grin only widened, his eyes never leaving mine as he took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the moment. There was a playful glint in his gaze, but something deeper too, something that made my chest tighten. It was as if this whole day—every flirtatious comment, every lingering look—had been building up to something unspoken, something that hovered just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

“So, what happens after five minutes?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity that made my breath hitch. “Do I get to keep my seat, or are you kicking me to the curb?”

I laughed softly, but the question hung in the air, feeling heavier than it should. “Depends,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Are you planning on behaving?”

“Not if I can help it,” Oscar replied, his voice warm and teasing, but his gaze was intense, like he was studying me, trying to figure out exactly what I was thinking.

I glanced away, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention. There was something about the way he was looking at me that felt new, unexpected—like he was seeing me in a way no one else ever had. It was unnerving, thrilling, and terrifying all at once, and it made me feel like everything I thought I knew was suddenly up in the air.

The conversations around us continued, but they felt distant, muffled, as if the world had faded into the background. I could feel the weight of Oscar’s eyes still on me, searching, and for a moment, I found myself caught between the familiar and the unknown. Everything felt different, like the ground beneath me had shifted without warning, and all the little things I’d been so sure of were suddenly tangled up in emotions I hadn’t anticipated.

Oscar’s voice broke through my thoughts, quieter now, a touch more sincere. “You okay? You went quiet on me.”

I blinked, startled by how quickly my mind had wandered. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just… thinking.”

“About?” he pressed, his eyes soft but probing, clearly not satisfied with my evasive answer.

I hesitated, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. “About how you’re… different,” I said, the admission making my heart race. “Today, everything’s just… not what I expected.” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words the strange mix of excitement and uncertainty that was bubbling up inside me.

Oscar watched me for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to something gentler, more thoughtful. “I get it,” he said finally, his voice low and earnest. “It’s weird when things change on you, isn’t it? Like you’re used to one thing, and then suddenly it’s all flipped around.”

He leaned in a little closer, his tone softening as if he was letting me in on a secret. “But I don’t mind it,” he continued. “Everything today… it’s been new, yeah, but it’s good. You’re good.”

I swallowed, the honesty in his words catching me off guard. It was one thing to joke around, to let the banter cover up what was simmering underneath, but this felt different—like he was asking me to see him, really see him, and maybe let him see me in return.

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that mirrored the uncertainty I was feeling, a quiet plea hidden in his smile that made my heart skip. It wasn’t just a game anymore; it was something real, something that demanded a bit of courage I wasn’t sure I had.

Oscar’s usual cocky confidence had softened into something more tentative, almost as if he was waiting for me to say something that would make this strange, unexpected shift between us make sense. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered with unspoken questions, the way his hand hovered just a little closer to mine on the table, hesitant but hopeful.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped, biting his lip in a rare moment of hesitation. I could feel the unsteady rhythm of my own breathing, matching the erratic beat of my heart. It was like standing on the edge of something, knowing that one step could change everything and still not being sure if I was ready to take it.

“I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t expect this,” he finally said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. His fingers brushed mine, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver through me, and the simple contact felt more intimate than any of the flirting or banter we’d exchanged all day. “I’m not usually… like this.” He laughed, but it was shaky, almost self-conscious. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one who’s kind of… thrown off.”

I glanced down at our almost-touching hands, the space between them feeling unbearably small and impossibly vast at the same time. The reality of what was happening—the shift from playful teasing to something deeper, more vulnerable—was terrifying and exhilarating. It was as if everything had turned upside down, leaving me with nothing to hold onto but the fragile, unspoken connection we’d built in the span of a few sun-soaked hours.

“I know what you mean,” I whispered, surprised at how raw my voice sounded. “I didn’t expect this either.” The words felt too small to capture the rush of emotions tangled inside me, but they were the most honest thing I could offer.

Oscar’s thumb grazed the back of my hand, a light, almost tentative touch, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through me. He smiled, a little lopsided and unsure, and it was so different from his usual bravado that it made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly, and there was something so genuine in his tone that it knocked the breath out of me. “I’m glad we’re… whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely between us, as if trying to name the unnameable, the strange and beautiful thing that had sprung up between the jokes and the splashes and the shared looks that felt like secrets.

I nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “Me too,” I managed, and the simple admission felt like a leap off that precarious edge we’d been teetering on. “I’m glad it’s… us.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, and for a split second, the weight of the moment hung between us, thick with unspoken possibilities. It felt like we were on the cusp of something important, something that neither of us was quite ready to fully grasp, and the vulnerability of it all was terrifying and exhilarating.

But then, in true Oscar fashion, he broke the tension with a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating. “You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I’ve gotta admit, this whole ‘us’ thing is pretty great. But if you’re planning on crying, can you just give me a heads-up? I’m not emotionally equipped to handle that.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift from heart-to-heart to heart-to-humor. “Excuse me?” I laughed, trying to hide the relief that came with his playful deflection. “I’m not crying! And for the record, you’re the one who looks like you’re about to get misty-eyed.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, no judgment. I just thought I’d bring tissues to our next deep and meaningful, you know? Maybe some popcorn, too. Really set the mood.”

I snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly, but the tension had eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of our back-and-forth. “You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Oscar winked, clearly pleased with himself for lightening the mood. “Yeah, but I’m your kind of impossible, right?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no denying the truth in his words. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” I shot back, but my heart felt lighter, the strange, heady mix of vulnerability and humor making the moment feel just right.

He laughed, clinking his glass against mine one more time. “Deal. But just so you know, this isn’t over,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasing but sincere tone that was quickly becoming his signature. “This ‘us’ thing… it’s still happening.”

I met his gaze, feeling a surge of warmth and maybe a little bit of hope. “Yeah,” I said, my smile softening. “It definitely is.” And with that, we let the conversation drift back to laughter and lightness, both of us content to leave the door wide open for whatever might come next.

Just as I started to relax into the ease of the moment, Mae’s voice cut through the noise like a dramatic trumpet blast. “Oh my god, did anyone else just see that?” she exclaimed, practically bouncing out of her chair. She was clutching her glass like it was some kind of award she was presenting to the whole table, eyes wide with exaggerated shock.

Oscar and I both froze, caught like deer in headlights as everyone else turned to look at us, half amused and half confused. Mae’s eyes were sparkling with delight, clearly enjoying her self-appointed role as the dinner’s designated narrator of drama.

“Seriously, did no one catch that?” Mae continued, pointing between Oscar and me like she was conducting an investigative report. “That was, like, a full-on rom-com moment! Staring, smiling, subtle hand-touching—am I the only one paying attention to this masterpiece unfolding?”

I could feel my face heating up as the entire table’s attention zeroed in on us. Hattie snorted, trying and failing to suppress a laugh, while Edie gave Mae a playful shove. “Stop being so dramatic, Mae,” Edie said, rolling her eyes but grinning all the same. “It’s not a soap opera.”

Mae, undeterred, waved her hands theatrically, clearly reveling in the spotlight. “No, no, you guys don’t get it. This is prime content! I’ve seen less chemistry on TV shows that have been running for five seasons!” She looked at us with mock seriousness, as if she was on the brink of tears. “Honestly, I’m emotional. I think I need a moment.”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, half-embarrassed, half-amused by Mae’s antics. “Okay, Mae, take it down a notch,” he said, trying to sound exasperated, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

I tried to cover my face with my hands, laughing despite my mortification. “Oh my god, can we not make this a thing?”

Mae ignored me completely, turning to Nicole and Belle as if she were addressing a captivated audience. “Moms, did you see it? Do we need to start planning a wedding, or should I pace myself?”

Nicole chuckled, giving me a sympathetic smile as she sipped her wine. “Mae, sweetie, let them breathe. But I will say, I’m glad to see our Oscar isn’t just all talk.” She winked at me, clearly enjoying every second of this impromptu performance.

Belle, looking equally amused, raised her glass. “To young love… or whatever this is,” she teased, and the whole table erupted in laughter.

Oscar groaned, though he was clearly more entertained than annoyed. “Thanks, Mae. Really appreciate the live commentary,” he said, rolling his eyes but flashing me a quick, conspiratorial smile that sent a flutter through my chest.

He leaned closer, his voice low so only I could hear. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her back for that later,” he promised, his tone half-playful, half-serious, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to play it cool, but the way he lingered, just a little closer than necessary, made my heart skip.

Meanwhile, Mae was still basking in the glow of her own theatrics, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied grin. “Honestly, you’re welcome. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” she quipped, flicking her hair over her shoulder like she was the star of the show.

“Can we get a replay, though?” Hattie chimed in, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Like, maybe a slow-mo version? I feel like I missed the pivotal moment.”

Edie, not one to be left out, waggled her eyebrows at me. “Yeah, can you guys just, like, do it again for the rest of us? We need to get the full experience.”

I buried my face in my hands, half laughing, half mortified. “You guys are the worst,” I muttered, but there was no real sting behind it. The entire scene was ridiculous, but it was the kind of ridiculousness that made me feel strangely at home, like I’d been dropped into the middle of this whirlwind of banter and suddenly found my place.

Oscar squeezed my shoulder lightly, his touch grounding me amidst the teasing chaos. “They’re just jealous,” he whispered, his voice edged with that same flirtatious charm that had been keeping me on my toes all day. “It’s not every day they get front-row seats to this level of entertainment.”

I shot him a look, trying to suppress a grin. “Oh, is that what this is? Entertainment?”

He shrugged, unabashed. “Well, it’s definitely not boring. And I think we’re pulling off the lead roles pretty well, don’t you?”

Mae pretended to dab at her eyes, clutching her napkin dramatically. “Look at them, already talking like a power couple. I can’t—my heart is too full.” She pointed a finger at us. “Y’all better invite me to the premiere of your inevitable Netflix series.”

“Mae, if you don’t dial it back, you’re getting written out in season two,” Oscar warned, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on me, a mix of amusement and something softer that made my pulse race.

Mae gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls like she’d just been gravely insulted. “You can’t cut out the comic relief! I’m the fan favorite. Besides, the show would be boring without me stirring the pot.” She leaned back with a smug smile, crossing her arms like she was daring anyone to challenge her.

Hattie snorted, jumping in without missing a beat. “Yeah, but we all know you’re the kind of character they kill off in a dramatic mid-season twist. Gotta keep the ratings up.”

Mae threw her head back, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. “Please, they wouldn’t dare. The viewers would riot.” She turned her attention back to us, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “And speaking of plot twists, when’s the big kiss scene? I mean, I’m just saying, it’s been teased for like, three episodes already.”

My jaw dropped, caught between mortification and laughter as Oscar choked on his drink, struggling to keep his composure. “Mae!” I squeaked, covering my face with my hands, feeling my cheeks burn hotter than the grill. “Can we not?”

Mae shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just being honest. The audience wants what it wants.” She glanced around the table, gesturing to everyone with an over-the-top flourish. “I mean, look at us. We’re all invested.”

Oscar rubbed his temples, but he was smiling, shaking his head at his sister’s relentless antics. “Mae, you’re officially banned from all future dinners. You’ve peaked as an agent of chaos.”

Mae shot him a smug look. “I’d like to see you try. I’m basically your PR manager at this point, and you should be grateful. I’m giving you the best subplot.”

Nicole chuckled, shaking her head at her kids. “Alright, enough, everyone. Let’s give them some peace. I think they’ve been roasted enough for one night.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to regain some composure, but every time I glanced at Oscar, he was already looking at me, that easy, knowing smile still playing on his lips. Despite the theatrics, the jokes, and the lighthearted chaos of it all, there was an unmistakable comfort in being next to him, like we were in on some private joke the rest of the table was only half aware of.

As the conversation shifted back to other topics and plates clattered with second helpings, I found myself sneaking another glance at Oscar. He caught me looking and winked, leaning in just enough to whisper, “You good?”

I nodded, feeling that same flutter from earlier, the one that seemed to have settled somewhere deep in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, my voice light but sincere. “I think I’m better than good.”

But as the conversation around the table continued, the laughter and clinking of glasses filling the air, I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting back to Mae’s earlier comment—the one about the “big kiss scene” that had practically sent me into orbit. At the time, I’d brushed it off, laughing it away as another one of her over-the-top jokes. But now, with the evening winding down and Oscar still sitting close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the idea lingered, stubbornly refusing to be dismissed.

I glanced at him, catching the way he was half-listening to whatever Chris was saying about the grill, but his focus kept sneaking back to me, a subtle sideways glance here, a quiet smile there. It was like we were stuck in this unspoken loop, constantly circling each other without ever quite landing. And suddenly, Mae’s words didn’t seem so ridiculous. The thought of kissing Oscar—of actually closing that gap between us—wasn’t just some wild, far-off fantasy. It felt… possible. Real. And that was what scared me the most.

Because Mae wasn’t wrong—there was a tension between us, a pull that had been there all day, simmering beneath the surface. Every time Oscar leaned in a little too close, every shared look that lingered just a second too long, it was there, buzzing quietly, daring us to acknowledge it. I could feel it now, that quiet hum in the air that made every casual touch and playful nudge feel loaded, like we were teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

The thought of kissing him—of actually letting myself take that leap—sent a rush of nerves and excitement crashing over me. What would it feel like? Would it be like all the other moments today, funny and light but with that undeniable spark? Or would it be something else entirely, something that would make it impossible to go back to just playful banter and harmless flirting?

I stole another glance at Oscar, watching the way his lips curved into a smirk as he teased Mae about something I couldn’t quite catch. It was infuriating how easily he could shift from serious to silly, how he could make me feel so at ease one second and then completely unsteady the next. I wondered if he was thinking about it, too—if the idea of us had crossed his mind, lingering like it was now in mine.

My thoughts were interrupted as Mae, ever the observant troublemaker, caught me staring. She wiggled her eyebrows and shot me a knowing grin, clearly reveling in her role as the self-appointed matchmaker of the night. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, but the question she’d planted was still there, stubborn and insistent.

What would it be like, kissing Oscar?

It was a question that hovered between us, unasked but undeniable, and as the evening wore on, it only seemed to grow louder. And while I wasn’t sure of the answer, one thing was becoming clear: the idea of it wasn’t just Mae’s dramatic imagination running wild. It was mine too. And maybe, just maybe, it was only a matter of time before we found out for ourselves.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the backyard in soft hues of orange and pink, the vibe around the table shifted. Plates were cleared, glasses refilled, and the conversation became a gentle hum, winding down into the comfortable lull of a summer evening. The air was warm, carrying the faint, salty scent of the ocean just beyond the house. I could feel the day transitioning into something quieter, softer, like a whispered promise of what was to come.

Oscar nudged my arm gently, his smile easy and inviting. “Want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked, his voice low enough that it felt like a secret. “I think I’ve had my fill of Mae’s commentary for the night.”

I laughed, grateful for the excuse to escape the watchful eyes of his sisters. “Yeah, before she starts live-tweeting this,” I joked, grabbing my sandals and following him away from the table. He led us down the path that cut through the backyard, winding toward the beach. The sound of laughter and chatter faded behind us, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves and the soft crunch of sand beneath our feet.

The sky was a watercolor canvas of fading light, the last streaks of daylight blending into deep blues and purples as we reached the shore. It was quiet here, the kind of quiet that feels intentional, like the world had pressed pause just for us. Oscar slipped off his shoes, and I followed suit, the cool, damp sand squishing pleasantly between my toes. It felt cheesy and cliché, like something out of a movie, but I didn’t care. It was perfect.

We walked in silence for a bit, side by side, our footsteps falling in sync as the waves lapped at the shore. Every so often, Oscar would kick at the sand, sending little sprays of it up in front of us, and I’d laugh, nudging him back with my shoulder. There was no rush, no destination; it was just us, drifting along the edge of the water like we were caught in our own little bubble.

Oscar glanced at me, his face soft in the twilight. “You know, I think this is the part where we’re supposed to talk about something deep and meaningful,” he said, his voice teasing but light, the kind of tone that made everything feel a little less serious, a little easier to handle.

I smiled, rolling my eyes but playing along. “Oh, right. This is the part where we share our hopes, dreams, and darkest secrets, right? Because nothing says ‘deep conversation’ like walking barefoot on the beach.”

“Exactly,” Oscar said, grinning. “But seriously, I’m glad you’re here. Tonight’s been… fun. Weird and chaotic, but fun.”

I nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle over me. “Yeah, it’s been… something,” I admitted, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. In a good way.”

We walked a little further, the quiet between us no longer uncomfortable but filled with the soft roar of the ocean and the distant calls of seagulls. It felt like the perfect cliché—sunset, ocean waves, and just enough awkwardness to keep it from feeling too polished. Oscar stopped suddenly, bending down to pick up a small, smooth shell and handing it to me with a mock-serious expression.

“A souvenir,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the fading light. “To remember this incredibly cheesy moment.”

I took the shell, laughing at how ridiculous and oddly sweet the gesture was. “I’ll treasure it forever,” I said, mimicking his serious tone, holding the shell up like it was a precious gem. “And when I tell people about this night, I’ll say, ‘There was this guy, and he gave me a shell on a beach at sunset. It was painfully corny, but somehow it worked.’”

Oscar chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hey, corny works sometimes. Especially if the right person’s involved.” He looked at me then, his smile fading just enough that I could see the sincerity underneath all the jokes. “I like this,” he said, his voice softer. “I like… us.”

My heart did a little flip, caught off guard by the quiet honesty of his words. It wasn’t dramatic or grand, just simple and real, and that made it even better. “I like us too,” I admitted, feeling the last bit of sunlight brush against my skin as the horizon swallowed it whole.

Oscar stepped closer, his shoulder brushing mine as we stood there, toes in the sand, watching the sky darken. It felt like we’d crossed some invisible line, one that had been waiting for us all day, and now, with the ocean as our only witness, it didn’t feel scary anymore. It felt right.

The waves crashed softly in the background, a rhythmic soundtrack to the unspoken feelings that hung between us. I expected another joke, something light to keep the moment easy, but instead, Oscar’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more serious, more introspective. He glanced at the horizon, the last slivers of light reflecting in his eyes, before turning back to me.

“You know,” he started, his voice a little lower, almost hesitant, “about that whole ‘sharing secrets’ thing…”

I raised an eyebrow, expecting another playful jab, but his tone had changed. There was a weight to his words that made my heart pick up pace, and I could tell he was wrestling with something. “Yeah?” I prompted gently, unsure where he was going with this but sensing it was important.

Oscar let out a long breath, his gaze dropping to the sand as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit I hadn’t seen from him before. “It’s… kind of a big deal. And it’s something I don’t usually talk about when I first meet someone.”

I felt a flicker of concern, mixed with curiosity. “Okay,” I said softly, trying to encourage him without pushing too hard. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He nodded, chewing on his lip for a moment before meeting my eyes. “So… I’m not just some random guy who likes to crash neighborhood dinners and play chicken in pools.” He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. “I’m actually… a Formula One driver.”

I blinked, the words taking a moment to fully register. “Wait, what?” I said, half-laughing in disbelief, expecting him to crack a smile and tell me it was just another joke. But Oscar’s expression remained serious, his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

“I’m a Formula One driver,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I race for a living. It’s my job, my whole life, really. I’ve been doing it for years, and it’s… well, it’s a lot. I didn’t want to bring it up right away because, honestly, it changes how people see me. And I like how things are right now. Just… you and me, without all that other stuff.”

My mind reeled, trying to connect the dots between the Oscar I’d spent the day with and the image of a high-speed, glamorous world I’d only ever seen on TV. I had a million questions, but the first one that slipped out was, “Are you serious?”

He nodded, his expression softening at my shock. “Yeah, I am. I travel all the time—races in different countries, press, sponsors, all of it. It’s not just a job; it’s this crazy, intense lifestyle, and it’s a lot to deal with. That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. I wanted to just be… me. Not the guy on the track.”

I stared at him, the quiet, easy-going Oscar who had been joking and flirting with me all day, now suddenly framed in a completely different light. I tried to picture him in a racing suit, helmet on, speeding at breakneck pace in front of thousands of fans. The thought was surreal, but the sincerity in his eyes grounded me, reminding me that he was still the same guy who had been by my side all day.

“Wow,” I breathed, still trying to wrap my head around it. “I mean… that’s incredible. And intense. I can’t even imagine…”

Oscar shrugged, his expression a mix of pride and exhaustion. “It’s got its moments. The adrenaline, the rush, it’s amazing. But it’s also lonely sometimes. It’s hard to know who’s around for me and who’s around for what I do. That’s why it’s been so… nice today. Just hanging out, no expectations, no pressure.”

I nodded, my mind still racing to keep up, but my heart settled on one thing: the vulnerability in his voice. “I get why you didn’t say anything,” I said softly. “I’m glad you told me, though. And for what it’s worth, it doesn’t change anything for me. I still see you the same way.”

Oscar’s shoulders relaxed, a hint of relief passing over his face. “Thanks. That means a lot,” he said quietly. “I just wanted you to know who I really am. Not the headlines, not the highlight reels. Just… Oscar.”

I reached out, squeezing his hand lightly. “Well, Oscar, the Formula One driver,” I teased gently, “you’re kind of stuck with me now. So I hope you’re ready for that.”

He laughed, a sound filled with genuine warmth, and squeezed my hand back. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his smile returning. “But I promise, no pit stops on our beach walks.”

We kept walking, but now my mind was buzzing with questions I couldn’t quite hold back. The idea of Oscar—this funny, charming guy—also being a professional race car driver was a lot to process. My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to him, trying to piece together this new version of him I was just starting to understand.

“So, what’s it like?” I asked, my voice tinged with excitement and genuine intrigue. “I mean, racing. The whole lifestyle… is it really as glamorous as it looks?”

Oscar smiled, his eyes distant for a moment as if recalling a million memories at once. “Sometimes it is. The travel, the fans, the adrenaline of the race—it’s all surreal. But it’s not always as glamorous as people think. There’s a lot of pressure, a lot of sleepless nights. You’re constantly on the move, training, dealing with the media, and sometimes you barely get a moment to yourself.”

I nodded, hanging onto every word. “Do you ever get scared? I mean, it’s not exactly a nine-to-five job.”

He glanced at me, his expression thoughtful. “Every time I get in the car, there’s this moment of fear, like a little voice in the back of my mind reminding me how dangerous it is. But once the lights go out and the race starts, it’s all instinct. You don’t really think—you just drive. It’s weird, but the fear kind of becomes part of the thrill.”

I could hear the passion in his voice, and it struck me how much more there was to him than I’d realized. “Do you ever… wish it was different? Like, that maybe you could slow down?”

Oscar chuckled softly, kicking at the sand as we walked. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s exhausting. But then there’s this moment when you’re flying down the track, everything’s a blur, and it’s just you and the car. Nothing else matters. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.” He paused, turning to me with a small, earnest smile. “And then there are nights like this, where I get to just be a normal guy hanging out on the beach. It’s a nice change of pace.”

I found myself smiling, charmed by his openness. “I can’t even imagine living like that—always on the go, never really having time to just… be. But it sounds incredible, in a crazy sort of way.”

“It is,” he agreed, looking out at the ocean, the moonlight catching the edges of his profile. “But it’s also hard to let people in. Everyone has expectations, and sometimes it’s hard to know who actually sees you and who just sees the guy in the helmet.”

I squeezed his hand, wanting to offer some kind of comfort. “Well, I see you, Oscar. And not just the driver. I see the guy who’s annoyingly persistent, who’s actually kind of sweet when he wants to be.” I nudged him playfully. “And the guy who’s really bad at keeping secrets, apparently.”

He laughed, a genuine, relieved sound that made my heart swell. “Yeah, I guess I’m not as mysterious as I thought.” He paused, then added, “But I’m glad you know. I wanted you to know.”

I studied him, feeling like I was seeing Oscar in an entirely new light—not just the charming guy who had been teasing me all day, but someone with layers, with dreams and fears that ran deeper than I’d ever guessed. “Thanks for telling me,” I said softly. “It means a lot that you’d share all this with me.”

Oscar smirked, but there was a hint of shyness behind it. “Yeah, well, you’ve got this way of making me spill my guts. You should be careful—I might start telling you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

I laughed, nudging him with my shoulder. “Oh, don’t tempt me. I’ve got a lot of questions, you know. Like, what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in front of a crowd? Or do you have a superstitious pre-race ritual? Maybe something involving, like, wearing your socks inside out for good luck?”

He groaned, but the playful gleam in his eyes told me he was enjoying this. “Socks inside out? That’s rookie level. I’m way more sophisticated—think lucky underwear, a very specific breakfast, and a pep talk to my car that would make me sound insane if anyone heard it.”

I snorted, covering my mouth to stifle the laugh. “You talk to your car? Please tell me you’ve named it.”

Oscar looked mock-offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “Of course I’ve named it! What kind of driver would I be if I didn’t? But that’s classified information—I can’t just give away my car’s name on the first beach walk.”

I rolled my eyes, still giggling at the idea of him having full-on conversations with his race car. “I think you’re just scared to admit you’ve named it something ridiculous like ‘Lightning McQueen’ or ‘Speedy McSpeedface.’”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know my car’s name is very dignified and deeply meaningful,” he said, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “And it definitely doesn’t sound like a character from a kids’ movie.”

I raised an eyebrow, teasing him back. “Uh-huh. Sure. And do you also tuck it in at night and read it bedtime stories?”

Oscar threw his head back in laughter, his hand squeezing mine. “You’re killing me here. But hey, maybe you can come see it sometime—if you’re good, I’ll even let you meet her.”

“Oh, meeting the car? Wow, that sounds serious,” I teased, pretending to be deeply flattered. “Next thing you know, you’ll be inviting me to the races, front-row seats and all.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “Keep playing your cards right, and you never know. I might just need a good luck charm in the stands. Besides,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a flirty whisper, “it’d be a shame not to have the prettiest girl at the track cheering me on.”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks again, the casual way he flirted throwing me off balance every time. “You’ve really perfected the smooth-talking driver act, haven’t you?” I teased, raising an eyebrow but unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips.

Oscar smirked, his confidence unwavering. “What can I say? When you’ve got someone worth impressing, you pull out all the stops.”

I rolled my eyes, but the butterflies in my stomach were in full flight. “Well, I’m not that easy to impress. You might need more than just a fancy car and smooth lines.”

He pretended to think it over, scratching his chin dramatically. “Hmm, okay. Let’s see… I’ve got fast cars, some world travel under my belt, and a pretty decent sense of humor, if I do say so myself. Oh, and I’m great at chicken fights in the pool.” He gave me a sideways glance, his smile playful but with a hint of sincerity beneath it. “But if that’s not enough, I guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, keep working on it. I’m a tough crowd.”

Oscar slowed his steps, his voice turning softer as he leaned a little closer. “I like a challenge.”

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, the playful banter gave way to something a little deeper. There was that same flicker of vulnerability from earlier, like he was letting his guard down just a bit more, and it made my heart skip. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just met his gaze, feeling the intensity of the moment settle between us like a quiet hum.

“Careful,” I finally said, trying to keep the mood light even though my pulse was racing. “You might bite off more than you can chew.”

Oscar grinned, but his eyes were still locked on mine, the flirty bravado softening into something more genuine. “I think I can handle it,” he said quietly, and there was something in his tone that made my breath catch, like this wasn’t just another joke, another flirtation. It was a real promise.

Before I could respond, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was so casual, yet it sent a rush of warmth through me, leaving me a little breathless. “You’re making this easy,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing, but his gaze was steady, holding mine with a kind of quiet intensity that made my heart race.

“Easy?” I managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing miserably.

He nodded, his smile widening just a bit. “Yeah. You make it easy to want to keep trying.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words settling over me. It felt like we were on the verge of something bigger, something that went beyond the playful teasing and light-hearted flirting. And as cheesy as it sounded, standing there with the ocean breeze in my hair and the moonlight casting soft shadows around us, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of moment where everything could change.

But instead of saying anything profound, I just smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand still lingering near my cheek. “Well, if you’re trying to win me over with flattery and moonlit walks on the beach, you’re off to a decent start.”

Oscar chuckled, dropping his hand but staying close. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He paused, glancing at the ocean before looking back at me with that same mix of playfulness and sincerity. “You ready to head back?”

I nodded, feeling the tension in my chest ease as we started walking again, the easy rhythm between us falling back into place. “Yeah, but don’t think this lets you off the hook. You’ve still got some impressing to do.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Challenge accepted.”

And as we made our way back up the beach, the stars twinkling above and the sound of the waves following us, I couldn’t help but feel that this night—this cheesy, corny, perfect night—was only the beginning of something even better. There was an easy warmth between us now, a quiet understanding that whatever this was, we were both on board. As we reached the house, the familiar noise of chatter and laughter spilled out onto the patio, pulling us back into the lively fold of everyone gathered around.

The second we stepped onto the deck, Mae was the first to spot us, her eyes lighting up like she’d just won the gossip jackpot. “Well, well, well, look who decided to rejoin the party,” she called out, clapping her hands together in mock celebration. “Did you two lovebirds enjoy your romantic stroll under the moonlight?”

Oscar shot her a warning look, but it only made her grin wider. “Mae, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” he quipped, trying to sound exasperated but failing to hide his smile.

Hattie, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed with a knowing smirk. “Oh, come on, Oscar. We saw you guys sneaking off together. What was it? A deep, soul-searching chat? Confessions of undying love?”

Edie snorted, adding her two cents with a dramatic gasp. “Wait, did he finally break out the big romantic moves? Did he tell you about his tragic backstory and show you his sensitive side?”

I laughed, shaking my head but feeling my cheeks flush under the teasing. “Wow, you guys really have an active imagination,” I said, trying to play it off casually. “We were just… talking.”

“Talking,” Mae repeated, her tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say before the dramatic kiss in the rain scene.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was clearly more amused than annoyed. “For your information, Mae, we were just enjoying a peaceful walk without all the peanut gallery commentary,” he shot back, though his playful glare did little to stop the relentless teasing.

“Oh, right,” Hattie said, putting on an exaggerated, dreamy voice. “Staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings—totally normal, everyday stuff.”

Edie gave an exaggerated sigh, wiping a fake tear from her eye. “I swear, this is better than any rom-com. I feel blessed to witness it in real time.”

Oscar groaned, rubbing his temples but unable to keep the smile off his face. “You guys are the worst,” he said, shaking his head, but the laughter in his eyes was unmistakable.

Hattie leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she gave Oscar a nudge. “So, did you tell her your big secret yet?” she asked, her tone half-joking but laced with just enough seriousness to make it feel like there was more to it. “You know, the one where you’re not just some guy who likes moonlit walks and cheesy flirting?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, but his shoulders tensed slightly. “Yeah, Hattie. I told her.”

Hattie smirked, turning her attention to me with a knowing look. “Well, good. Now you’ve seen the full Oscar package: charming flirt, terrible dancer, and, oh yeah, a race car driver who’s apparently allergic to being straightforward about it.”

I laughed, catching the hint of truth beneath her teasing. “Yeah, he told me. It was quite the plot twist,” I said, shooting Oscar a playful glance. “I mean, I thought I was just hanging out with some guy who likes chicken fights in pools, and then bam! Turns out he’s a high-speed adrenaline junkie.”

Oscar let out a half-hearted groan, but I could see the smile tugging at his lips. “See? This is why I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Now I’m the guy who goes from chicken fights to explaining how I don’t die doing my job.”

Edie leaned forward, her grin wide. “Oh, come on. You love it. And honestly, I think it’s pretty cool she didn’t bolt when you told her. That’s a win in my book.”

I shrugged, feeling oddly proud of myself for rolling with the revelation. “I mean, you could’ve told me you were a secret agent or something, and I’d probably still be here. But don’t get any ideas—I’m not driving any getaway cars for you.”

Hattie raised her glass in mock solemnity. “To not scaring her off with the ‘I drive at 200 mph for a living’ thing. Honestly, it’s about time someone just saw you for, you know, you.”

Oscar smiled, his eyes flickering with gratitude. “Thanks, Hattie. And yeah,” he turned back to me, squeezing my shoulder lightly, “I’m glad you’re here. Even if my sisters are determined to embarrass me at every turn.”

I laughed, leaning into the warmth of his side hug. “Hey, I’m just glad I got to hear the big secret firsthand. And for the record, you’re a lot more than just the guy on the track.”

Mae pretended to wipe away a tear, her voice cracking with fake emotion. “Look at them, so supportive. I’m not crying, you’re crying.”

Oscar groaned again, but his eyes never left mine, filled with a quiet, earnest appreciation that made the teasing worth it. “You guys are relentless.”

Edie smirked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Hey, you can’t blame us. We’ve got a front-row seat to the Oscar Romance Special. We’re just waiting for the next episode, preferably with more kissing.”

I nearly choked on my drink, caught off guard by her bluntness, and Oscar’s face turned a shade of pink I’d never seen before. “Edie,” he said, trying to sound stern but failing as a laugh escaped him. “I think you’re confusing our lives with one of your trashy reality shows.”

Mae jumped in, wagging her finger dramatically. “Excuse me, but if you’re going to give us reality TV vibes, at least make it entertaining. We need more dramatic confessions and less awkward hovering. I mean, seriously, when’s the big kiss scene?”

I looked at Oscar, my face heating up at the thought, but I decided to play along. “Well, Oscar, if you’ve got any more romantic revelations planned, you’d better warn me so I can, you know, brace myself.”

Oscar leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper just for me. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m full of surprises. And if you think that was my best move, you’re in for a wild ride.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool but failing to hide my smile. “Wild ride? Wow, is that a racing pun or are you just that confident?”

He chuckled, giving me a quick wink. “Both. But you’ll have to stick around to find out which one’s more accurate.”

Mae let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Oh my god, just kiss already! You’re both practically oozing romantic tension. It’s painful to watch.”

Oscar’s grin turned devilish, and he leaned back, his eyes flicking to me with a playful glint. “See what I have to put up with? I swear, it’s like having a peanut gallery that’s also my personal cheer squad.”

I nudged him with my elbow, unable to keep from laughing. “You should be grateful. Not everyone gets this kind of enthusiastic support.”

He nodded, feigning deep thought. “You’re right. Maybe I should embrace it. I mean, it’s not every day you get heckled into flirting.”

Hattie jumped in, pointing her fork at us. “Yeah, and if you’re going to flirt, at least do it properly. We want fireworks, people.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll work on my technique. But I can’t promise anything with all these eyes watching.”

I rolled my eyes, but the playful energy between us was impossible to ignore. “No pressure or anything,” I said, smirking at him. “But apparently, you’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Oscar leaned closer, his smile turning sly. “I thrive under pressure,” he said, his voice low and smooth, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Guess I’ll just have to make it memorable.”

His words hung in the air, flirtatious yet full of that quiet promise that left my heart racing. And as the night went on, filled with more teasing and playful banter, I realized that every joke, every look, was just another layer to the electric, unpredictable thing that was building between us.

Mae clinked her glass dramatically, interrupting my thoughts. “To Oscar, the wannabe Romeo, and to his leading lady, who’s clearly got the patience of a saint. Cheers to the saga we didn’t know we needed.”

I laughed, lifting my glass and meeting Oscar’s gaze. “Cheers,” I said, feeling the thrill of whatever this was settle comfortably around us. Because no matter how ridiculous or flirtatious it got, there was no denying that this was one ride I didn’t want to get off anytime soon.

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02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

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01: The Thermodynamics of My Hot Mess

I wasn't jealous before we met. Now every woman I see is a potential threat. The once timid, tame, collegiate girl I was before I met you has turned me possessive, it isn't nice.

And it’s all your fault, Oscar Piastri. You’ve taken the calm, rational part of me and set it on fire, leaving nothing but the green-eyed monster in its place. Oscar Piastri, you have turned me into a jealous mess, filled with envy and desperation I never thought possible. It’s like you’ve invaded every corner of my mind, making me obsess over the thought of you, the idea that someone else might take you away from me.

Even in my wildest, most fantasmic dreams, I would never have predicted that a spontaneous trip to Santorini, Greece, would spark the greatest lustful romance of my life. It was supposed to be a simple escape, a break from the pressures of college life. But the moment I laid eyes on you, everything changed. The calm, composed person I used to be unraveled with every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every moment we spent together under the Mediterranean sun.

But here I am, in a whirlwind romance that’s as exhilarating as terrifying, driven by emotions I didn’t even know I had. And the craziest part? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This chaotic, intense passion has awakened something in me that I can’t ignore, something that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.

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Three weeks ago, I was drooling on page one hundred thirty-eight of my physics textbook on thermodynamics, barely awake and running on fumes. I was practically strung out on Monster Energy Drinks and those overpriced, sugary lattes from the campus vending machine—the only thing keeping me from completely passing out on the spot. The dense equations and dry theories blurred together on the page, making it impossible to focus. My brain begged for a break, but I kept pushing, hoping the caffeine would magically make the material stick.

News flash, it didn't.

So, when Mama casually mentioned that we’d be vacationing in Santorini for summer break, it was like a lifeline had been thrown my way. Suddenly, the fog of exhaustion lifted, and a thrill of excitement surged through me. It was as if a dormant part of me, buried beneath layers of stress and routine, had been awakened, eager for the unexpected adventure that awaited.

The idea of trading my study desk for the stunning views of Santorini seemed almost surreal. My thoughts raced as I imagined wandering through the picturesque streets, soaking in the sun, and immersing myself in a world far removed from the rigors of academic life. It was an escape I hadn't known I needed, a break from the monotony of textbooks and equations.

I pictured myself strolling along the charming alleys lined with whitewashed buildings and vibrant bougainvillea, the scent of the Mediterranean Sea mingling with the aroma of fresh local cuisine. The thought of exploring ancient ruins and savoring sunsets that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink felt like stepping into a dream.

And not to mention, a part of me was inkling for a dream-like, rom-com-esque summer romance. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery could bring that fantasy to life.

As I swiped through images of ancient ruins, bustling cityscapes, and pristine beaches, I couldn't help but imagine myself in those exotic locales, experiencing the same thrilling adventures and romantic escapades. It was hard not to get swept up in the fantasy, picturing myself in those picture-perfect settings, with someone special by my side. It could quite literally be anyone, at this point. My horrific failed romancing attempts as well as my "not quite mediocre", yet "not quite stellar" looks were keeping me away from all the hotties.

The contrast between the vibrant, sun-soaked images on my screen and the monotony of my daily grind was stark. Quite embarrassing, frankly.

It fueled my desire for something more; something that broke away from the predictability of my studies and everyday responsibilities. Each scroll made the dream of a spontaneous adventure feel more urgent, intensifying my longing for a chance to immerse myself in the extraordinary.

Girls that I had grown up with were posing like models. Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan. And I wanted to be just like them.

Teeny tiny bikinis tied by a loose string, new ear and a belly piercing, flip-flops, and red tan lines. Margaritas, mojitos with lime, white wine. Loud club music, the nightlife of a girl in a foreign country, and dark blue eyeshadow and glitter. Flocking around older guys with them, locking lips with handsome strangers in bars, and flaunting all their escapades (or namely, their sexcapades) It was all so racy, daring, and outgoing. All of these things were unlike me, but I was a girl who dreamed of having fun. So you never know, I could suddenly change overnight.

The thought of stepping into that world, even just for a summer, was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a side of life I had only seen through screens, and part of me wondered if I was capable of embracing it. What would it feel like to let go of all my inhibitions, to live without worrying about consequences? To be that carefree girl who dances until dawn, flirts shamelessly, and collects stories too wild to share with anyone but your closest friends?

I couldn’t help but wonder if that girl was buried somewhere inside me, waiting for the right moment—or the right place—to emerge. Maybe Santorini would be the setting for my own little transformation, a place where I could shed my quiet, reserved self and become someone who seizes the moment without hesitation. After all, isn’t that what summer is for?

And when Mama told me about our trip to Santorini, that possibility suddenly seemed within reach. The idea of a vacation to such a dreamlike destination felt like the perfect catalyst for the change I’d been secretly craving. But more than that, it was a surge of joy and gratitude that hit me, knowing how hard she worked to make this happen. Growing up, it was just the two of us—Mama working tirelessly to provide for me and make every day special despite our modest means. She had always done her best to ensure that I had the opportunities I needed, even if it meant making sacrifices. The idea of a vacation, something so seemingly extravagant, was a rare treat, and I was thrilled beyond words.

To say the least, the envy was palpable, a green-eyed monster gnawing at me, craving the excitement and connection that seemed to radiate from every carefully curated Pinterest-worthy post.

Yeah, you can say that that excitement might not have lasted that long.

"Wait, wait, wait, repeat that please?" I questioned, exasperated by both the shitty wifi in my dorm room as well as my mother's purposeful exclusion of information. I sat criss-crossed in my twin-xl dorm room bed, surrounded by the comforting clutter of my college life. My phone rested precariously on the edge of my left knee (balancing carefully as I too, was practicing balancing my temper), its screen flickering with a weak signal as I struggled to catch every word Mama was saying. To my left, a wall was covered in an eclectic array of Polaroids and dimmed fairy lights, creating a soft, warm glow against the stark white of the dormitory walls. The space felt cozy but cramped, with textbooks and scattered notes littering the desk beneath the small window, which offered a view of the bustling campus below.

"Well I thought it would be a wonderful surprise for you," Mama said, elated over the fact that this bit of information was quite important. She wore a gigantic stretching grin on her face, a strict contrast to the curvature of my dimpled frown.

"By purposely excluding that we would be sharing a house with another family?" I incredulously asked, my left eyebrow arching up, my mouth turning into an even more prominent downward frown. Fuck, the shitty dorm wifi is acting up again. Now on Facetime, I was stuck like that. Great. I was eternally engraved into my phone as an unhappy bitch.

"You can make wonderful friends! I heard that they are your age," Mama wiggled her eyebrows. Figures. Of course, she would turn an opportunity that seemed to actively pray on my downfall into a splendid opportunity for me to, *shudders*, socialize.

"I don't need new friends, and there are four of them! That's a lot of people," I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the hair and finger-combing the stray bits of hair out of my face. Socializing was a lot for me sometimes. The thought of mingling with a whole new group felt like a daunting task, especially when my comfort zone was so tightly packed within the walls of my current routine. Each new interaction felt like a potential minefield of awkward conversations and missteps, a far cry from the cozy familiarity of my small circle. (Okay, a circle may be an exaggeration. Maybe a direct line would be a better description to describe the relationships around me: small, minimal, clean)

"Four kids your age, and two parents. This is the perfect mixing pot for you to make friends," Mama pointedly replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need friends," I lied.

"That's a lie," Mama accused. Well, not accused. She was right, but I wouldn't give that to her. I was innately stubborn. Wonder where I got that from…

"Of course not! I have a great social life, thank you very much," I lied, again. Blinking slowly, I tried to not let my eyes expose me.

"You haven't brought a boyfriend home ever. And you have one friend total." Mama snapped back.

"Well, Clementine is a very amazing and loyal best friend," I narrowed my eyes.

"Amen to that one," I could hear Clementine's voice echo from her bunk bed next to me. She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone under her light-blue comforter, yet this nosy bitch was still listening to our conversation.

"Mind your business Missus Nosy," I sassed at Clementine.

"Whatever, your business is mine. You forget we are literally ten feet away from each other." She groaned as she flipped to face me from under the comfort of her blankets. Mama laughed and I grimaced again.

"Seriously, you should branch out. As a young lady, you must learn to explore your choices-" Mama continued, and I could feel a heartfelt lecture incoming.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it I know." I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do with this family?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

"You’ll figure it out," Mama said with a reassuring tone. "It's an opportunity to meet new people and have some fun. Plus, they might have interesting stories to share."

"Right, because nothing says 'fun' like having to navigate the quirks of a new family while on vacation," I said, sarcastically. "I suppose I could use a few new stories to tell."

"That's the spirit! And who knows, maybe you’ll end up having a great time. Sometimes the best adventures come from the unexpected," Mama said optimistically.

"I guess we’ll see. Just don’t be surprised if I spend most of my time avoiding their overzealous attempts at bonding," I replied, half-joking.

"Fair enough," Mama laughed. "Just promise me you’ll at least give it a chance. And who knows, you might even surprise yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise," I said with a resigned sigh. "I'll give it a chance, even if it means putting up with a bunch of new faces."

"That’s all I ask," Mama said, her voice softening. "I’m looking forward to this trip, and I hope you will be too."

"Me too, I guess," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Just don’t expect me to become best friends with everyone right away."

"Deal," Mama said with a smile. "And remember, it’s supposed to be an adventure."

"Adventure. Got it," I said, rolling my eyes again but smiling this time. "Let’s hope it’s more exciting than a group project."

"Exactly! Now, get ready for a summer you won’t forget," Mama said, her tone upbeat.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, "I’ll do my best."

As the call ended, I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease. Interrupting me from my daydreaming, Clementine cleared her throat.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'll do my best." She mocked me in a high-pitched voice.

"Girl shut up," I groaned, throwing one of my various squishmallows at her head.

"Branch out my ass, you need to get cronked." Clementine gestured enthusiastically. Yes, she was the most extroverted person that I knew, and I loved it about her. We were just two opposite ends of a stick, and I did have a lot to learn about her charisma as well.

"What you just described is quite literally the evil alter-ego version of me, you know that right?" I deadpanned. Throwing back the squishmallow at me, she continued.

"Oh, come on! Loosen up and have some fun," Clementine replied with a flourish. "You’re too stiff, girl. You need to embrace the chaos and just go with it. And you know that you really want to have fun." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Okay yes fine, you got me." I rolled my eyes again.

"It's the summer somewhere new, be happy! You can be anyone that you want for a bit." She said.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe if the wifi wasn’t being a pain, I’d have a better attitude," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Blame it on the wifi all you want," Clementine said, laughing. "But seriously, you’re going to have a blast. Just let yourself get loose. Besides, how often do you get to have spontaneous adventures like this?"

"True," I admitted, "but it’s a lot easier for you to say. You thrive on chaos. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Okay, make me sound like some ravenous gossip party monster, Mrs. Malnourished-From-Any-Entertainment," Clementine rolled her eyes.

"Hey!!" I sputtered, trying to feign madness. I failed, as I immediately burst out laughing.

"And I swear you’re going to learn to love all the chaos too!" Clementine said enthusiastically. "It’s all about stepping out of your comfort zone. You’ve got to live a little!"

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling. "Alright, Miss Extrovert, I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to start dancing on tables or anything."

"Hey, you never know!" Clementine teased. "You might surprise yourself. Besides, it’s all about making memories, right?"

"Make memories, youthful nature, spring in my step, all right I get it man!" I yell, burrowing my face in my pillow, also conveniently getting a mouthful of hair. Yum.

"And don't forget it's actually time for you to get laid," Clementine said in a sing-songy type of voice.

"Clementine!" I exclaimed. She really had no filter, this girl…

"What? I'm just saying," Clementine shrugged, her grin widening. "A little romance never hurt anyone, right?"

"Yeah, but could you not be so… blunt about it?" I replied, trying to regain my composure. "I mean, it's one thing to tease me about dancing on tables, but this is pushing it."

Clementine laughed, unabashedly. "Oh, come on. You're going to a beautiful place with a bunch of people your age. It’s practically a recipe for adventure. And who knows? Maybe this will be the summer you meet someone special."

"Or maybe it’ll be the summer I learn to tolerate sharing a house with strangers," I said, rolling my eyes. "But thanks for the… encouragement."

"Hey, I’m just trying to help you make the most of it," Clementine said, her tone softening. "Sometimes a little push is all you need to open up and see things differently."

I sighed, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. "Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep an open mind. But no promises on the whole ‘getting laid’ part."

"And plus, I have absolutely no skills in approaching any guy ever. You know this," I cried in despair. Clementine laughed, recalling all the times when my horrible romancing skills failed me. Note, there are way too many to mention, so why do I even bother to find a boyfriend in the first place…

"Oh, I remember the summer fair incident," Clementine said, her laughter bubbling up. "You were trying to strike up a conversation with that guy at the cotton candy stand, and you got so flustered you ended up spilling your drink all over him."

"Please don't remind me of that, oh no," I groaned.

"And then, in an attempt to salvage the situation, you accidentally knocked over the cotton candy machine. The whole thing turned into a sticky, sugary disaster. You actually looked beet red it was so funny," Clementine continued laughing.

"I still cringe thinking about that," I groaned, hiding my face. "I was so embarrassed I avoided that fair for months."

"And let’s not forget that one party during Midsummer's last year," Clementine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh let's not bring that one up from the archives-" I started to say.

"Girl you need to stop pretending that you can actually dance," Clementine giggled.

"Hey! I actually didn't know that he was a professional dancer, okay? Showing me up that badly was so embarrassing, I did want to die so bad at that moment," I recalled.

"I was trying to save your horrid fate," Clementine continued.

"You can't just gesture to me at a party and try to whisper yell, it's so loud. That would've never worked," I argued.

"Well from the sidelines it was actually pretty funny seeing you trip and then knock over those plastic cups," Clementine continued.

"Yeah? It wasn't funny when I landed in that bowl of punch face-first though," I whined.

"Yeah! Of course, it wasn't because my car smelled like the rancid mix of alcohol and punch for weeks," Clementine complained.

"That's my revenge for you. You should've yanked me out of the dance circle the minute I stepped foot in there. Why I did it, I have no idea to this day," I lamented.

"Ugh, meanie," Clementine laughed at me.

"That was such a mess, though" I admitted, cringing. "I had to help clean up while everyone tried not to laugh at me."

"But hey," Clementine said, her tone softening. "All those awkward moments make for great stories, and they don’t define who you are. Sometimes, it’s those hilarious failures that end up being the most memorable."

"Fine, Mom," I droned on. "You have a point."

Clementine’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and amusement. "Exactly. And besides, who knows? Maybe this summer will be the time you finally get it right. You’re going to be in a new place with new people. It’s a fresh start."

"I suppose," I said, still feeling a bit skeptical but warming up to the idea. "I guess there's something to be said for making a fool of yourself in a new environment. It might not be so bad if everyone’s in the same boat."

Okay, I lied again. It was that bad.

(Guys I promise that I'm not a serial liar, I just exaggerate. A bit.)

The overwhelming heat of Greece, and pretty much the heat of the Mediterranean hit me like a truck immediately when I landed. It was dry heat, no humidity no nothing. Just good ole heavy heat. Sweating through the airport terminal, then customs, to the shuttle, my bra was pretty much damp by the time I had stepped onto the cobbled ground in front of our air b&b.

Beaded sweat was clouding my vision, completely ruining the pretty vision I had when I put gel on my forehead to curl my baby hairs. I was seeing stars (mostly perspiration). It was hot. I was getting a hot flash/nearly dying of heatstroke.

The dreamy images of Santorini I had envisioned from my cool, comfortable dorm room felt like a distant fantasy now. The picturesque streets, which I had imagined as quaint and inviting, seemed more like a maze of sun-baked stone. My excitement was quickly replaced by a wave of discomfort and disorientation.

“Welcome to paradise,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, feeling like I was melting into the pavement. I glanced over at my mom, who was also looking a little wilted but trying to maintain her usual upbeat demeanor.

“This is just the beginning,” she said, her voice cheerful but slightly strained. “It’ll get better once we get settled in.”

I hoped she was right. For now, though, all I could think about was finding a cool, shaded spot and trying to regain some semblance of composure. The fantasy of a perfect summer seemed to be melting away as quickly as the ice in my now lukewarm drink.

I fumbled with the keys to the front door, my fingers slick with sweat. The lock was stubborn, refusing to cooperate as I struggled to get inside. My mom was at my side, trying to help but also looking equally overheated.

“Maybe I should have warned you about the heat,” she said, her voice strained but still optimistic. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement,” I managed to reply, finally pushing the door open and stepping into the cooler interior. The contrast was immediate, but the relief was short-lived as I realized the air conditioning wasn’t working properly.

“This is not how I pictured it,” I admitted, feeling my earlier excitement wane. The romanticized version of this trip was crumbling under the harsh reality of the Mediterranean heat and my physical discomfort.

My mom looked around, her face showing a mixture of apology and determination. “We’ll get it sorted,” she said. “Let’s just unpack and try to cool off. Maybe a cold shower will help.”

I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I just hope the heat doesn’t turn this whole trip into a sweaty ordeal.” To foreshadow, it pretty much was like that the entire trip.

As soon as I stepped inside, the first thing that hit me was the chaotic array of shoes scattered haphazardly across the floor. There were sneakers, sandals, and flip-flops in a disordered spread as if a small army had shed their footwear in a hurry. The once inviting entrance now resembled a makeshift shoe rack, cluttered with mismatched pairs and abandoned shoes.

“Mama, it looks like we’re not the first ones here,” I said, my voice tinged with annoyance as I kicked aside a stray sandal. “It’s a mess.” I could feel my frustration mounting as I took in the scene. The once appealing idea of arriving at a neatly prepared vacation home now seemed overshadowed by the disorder and lack of preparation.

God, I hoped that whoever was here didn't make the whole place look like the dorm room of a stinky, smelly, teenage boy.

Mama quickly scanned the surrounding areas. “Oh, I didn’t realize. They must have arrived before us. They’re probably out exploring the city.”

“That’s just great,” I said, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. “They’re already out having fun while we’re stuck schlepping our luggage.”

With a sigh, I grabbed two huge pieces of luggage and began dragging them up a narrow flight of stairs. Each step felt like a small victory, but the sweat pouring down my back made every movement feel like a monumental effort. I didn’t even know my butt could sweat that much. It was as if my entire body was engaged in a desperate battle against the oppressive heat. My clothes clung to me in a way that made me feel like a walking puddle.

Every few steps, I had to stop and catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead and cursing under my breath. The heat inside the house, combined with the physical exertion, had me feeling utterly drenched. My damp hair stuck to my neck, and I could smell the distinct, unpleasant odor of sweat mingling with the heat.

“Can you believe this?” I called down to my mom, trying to keep my frustration in check while I heaved one suitcase up another step. “I’m already drenched, and we haven’t even started unpacking. I feel like I’m swimming in my sweat!”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it once we get settled,” she said from below, her voice slightly muffled by the distance. “Just hang in there. Take that cold shower, aye? It’ll make you feel better.”

Her optimism was appreciated, but it did little to ease the burning frustration I felt. I finally managed to get both suitcases into our room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly defeated. My legs felt like jelly, and I flopped down with a dramatic groan. The mattress, thankfully cooler than the air, felt like the only respite I’d had all day.

“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, my voice flat with exhaustion. “I need to cool off before I melt into a puddle. This heat is seriously getting to me.”

Grabbing all my toiletries in one hand (which would be moderately regrettable in approximately a minute), my phone and a towel haphazardly slung over my shoulder, I sped-walked to the nearest bathroom. My appearance was nothing short of disastrous: a loose beige bra that clung awkwardly to my sweat-drenched skin, and tightly fitted black spandex shorts that felt like they were melting into my sweaty legs. But, by golly, I was determined to take a shower. I assured myself that no one was there but Mama and me.

That is what I thought.

Clearly, that thought changed when I threw open the bathroom door to be met with a wall of steam and the startling sight of a pasty, pale chest belonging to a random white guy. In a comedy of errors, we collided headfirst into each other. He let out a yelp of surprise as I stumbled backward, dropping my toiletries and towel in the process.

“AHHH!” We both screamed in unison, our voices mingling in a perfect pitch of panic and disbelief. My phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor, the emergency contact screen flashing in alarm and my phone's flashlight being turned on as it bounced. The towel, now airborne, landed atop the guy’s head like a makeshift hat, which only made the situation more absurd. My toiletries, scattered like fallen soldiers, rolled across the tile in every direction.

In the frenzy, the guy’s shampoo bottle, which had been precariously perched on the edge of the sink, took a dive and exploded into a foamy mess, splattering us both with a thick layer of bubbles. I slipped on the slick tile, my foot skidding out from under me and sending me crashing into a pile of wet towels.

In the chaos, I tried to grab onto the nearest thing for support, which ended up being his bicep. My fingers closed around the surprisingly smooth and firm muscle, and I couldn't help but notice how it felt like a warm, solid rock under my touch. The unexpected contact sent a flush of heat to my cheeks, and I found myself blushing furiously as I tried to steady myself.

Never mind the sudden fucking romance, I was flailing and falling, and it was embarrassing as hell.

As I yanked on his arm, he lost his balance and we both went tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, shampoo, and toilet paper. The sheer force of our combined weight caused the guy to slam into the opposite wall, sending a shower of misplaced toiletries and a small avalanche of cleaning supplies cascading down on us. We landed in an awkward, sprawled mess, my leg draped over his and his arm pinned beneath my back, all while the air was filled with the scent of minty shampoo.

"What the actual fuck," The weird white guy said. I was surprised to hear an Australian accent escape his mouth, quite different than the accents I heard every day.

"Who the fuck are you?" I exclaimed in disbelief, trying to stand up, but wincing because my head and bum hurt very much.

He groaned, trying to sit up and shift me off his chest. "I'm Oscar. From Australia."

"Oscar who?" I asked, still struggling to comprehend the situation while attempting to fix my disheveled hair.

“Oscar from Australia,” he deadpanned, his frustration evident. His wet hair, still dripping from his recent shower, clung to his forehead, adding to his slightly disheveled look. Despite his frown, which was more a mix of irritation and bemusement, there was something oddly cute about him. His features were sharp but softened by his annoyed expression, and his damp hair only added to his rugged charm. The heat of the bathroom made his skin glisten slightly, and the combination of his tousled hair and pouty frown gave him a kind of adorably exasperated vibe. "You know, as in the guy whose bicep you just clung to like a life raft in a storm."

"Well, excuse me, Oscar from Australia," I retorted, finally managing to get to my feet but still wobbly. "I didn’t exactly plan on meeting you in such a—uh—personal way."

Oscar smirked, flicking some shampoo suds off his hand. "Yeah, well, this wasn’t how I planned to greet my new neighbors either. I was expecting someone who could walk without tripping over thin air, but hey, I guess we can’t all be that lucky."

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Great. So not only am I dealing with a mess of shampoo and toiletries, but now I have to navigate an awkward introduction with some guy who thinks he’s important enough to be 'Oscar from Australia.'" I honestly did not give a fuck if he was called "Oscar from Bumfuck Nowhere" or "Oscar the Prince of Bahrain", he needed to chill the fuck out.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, still struggling to keep a straight face. "Well, you know, ‘Oscar from Australia’ doesn’t have a very high bar for first impressions apparently. But hey, at least you’ll remember me, right?”

I rolled my eyes, snatching my towel off his head. "Yeah, I’ll definitely remember you as the guy who managed to turn my bathroom break into an episode of slapstick comedy."

Wiping a loose tear that streamed down my face due to shampoo getting in my eyes, I continued. "I just wanted a goddamn shower after that long plane ride and the bloody heat from outside man. What the hell…" I drifted off.

Oscar’s face twitched between amusement and exasperation. Honestly, now that I am thinking about it, his countenance was definitely leaning more toward exasperation and frustration. "I’m sorry my ‘Australian charm’ is such a disaster for you. But you know, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting tackled by a very disheveled girl either."

I huffed, my arms crossed defiantly over my chest, and my posture was a rigid display of frustration. My shoulders were hunched slightly, and I tilted my head to one side, making it clear I was not in the mood for further nonsense. My face was a portrait of annoyance—my brows were furrowed deeply, and my lips were pressed into a thin line. A flush of irritation spread across my cheeks, and my eyes, which had been rimmed with the remnants of shampoo, glared at Oscar with unfiltered exasperation. Every muscle in my expression seemed to scream, "Seriously?" as I struggled to keep my composure amidst the chaotic aftermath of our unintended collision.

"Oh, so now I’m ‘disheveled’? You might have noticed I was in the middle of trying to clean myself up when you decided to become a human wrecking ball."

Oscar chuckled despite himself. "Look, I didn’t mean to turn your bath into a soap opera. It was an accident—just like your epic phone drop and shampoo explosion." The audacity of this guy to even put my "epic phone drop" in air quotes. What a comic. Haha, totally funny.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get tackled by a random guy in the shower. Maybe you could’ve picked a less dramatic way to introduce yourself."

This "Oscar from Australia" guy was really starting to annoy me.

To be fair, I may have been escalating the whole thing because I truly do feel like a different person the moment heat washes over me. And this whole situation—sweaty, disheveled, and now dealing with a ridiculously charming yet infuriating Australian—was the cherry on top of my chaotic day.

Oscar shook his head, a smirk still tugging at his lips. "Well, if you ever need a more dramatic first impression, you know where to find me." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the steamy mess of the bathroom.

The jokes on him, first impressions are first and quite permanent. They don't change.

As I stood in the shower, still reeling from our chaotic confrontation, I finally managed to get my shower running. The cool water cascading down my back felt like a small slice of relief after the sweltering heat and tension of the past few minutes. I glanced at my reflection in the misty mirror, trying to scrub away the remnants of shampoo and irritation. My hair, now a tangled mess of suds and frustration, clung to my face as I attempted to regain some semblance of dignity.

It struck me suddenly—amidst the chaos and embarrassment—that something had shifted within me. I had been more assertive and bold than I ever remembered being, and this unexpected encounter had stirred confidence in me I hadn't recognized before. I didn’t just let the situation unfold; I stood my ground, even if it meant facing down a charming yet infuriating Australian.

Blushing slightly, I scolded myself silently. Really? Hurling myself at a guy I just met the moment I get to Santorini? It was like I’d thrown my usual reserved self out the window along with my dignity.

This wasn't Love Island. And he certainly wasn't the steamy-hot Australian guy from Casa who would be able to woo my heart in mere milliseconds.

Sweet lord, Clementine told me to reset myself this vacation. I had singlehandedly managed to reset my personality in three minutes.

As I rinsed the last of the foam from my hair, a sudden pang of regret hit me. I had never actually told Oscar my name. How had I managed to skip such a basic part of an introduction amid our chaotic collision? The thought gnawed at me, adding another layer to my mortification.

To him, I was probably that weird, really sweaty, and kind of stinky vacation girl with a pissy attitude. Now I am not saying that that isn't a spot-on accurate description of me, but it kind of hurts that I didn't behave better.

A lack of decorum on both of our parts, I'll conclude.

I couldn’t help but replay the moment when I’d bumped into him—his rock-solid chest meeting mine with surprising warmth. My eyes had instinctively trailed down from his broad shoulders to the defined abs that quite literally were making eye contact with me. The firm, unexpected contact of his body against mine had sent a jolt through me, making me acutely aware of how close we’d been.

Even now, the memory of that fleeting contact made me blush deeper, and my face felt like it was on fire. The way his chest had felt—solid and warm—seemed to linger, leaving an imprint on my senses. I recalled how his abs had pressed against me, their tautness undeniable from even where I was standing. It was almost embarrassing how my eyes had involuntarily traced those contours, as if they were a new and intriguing landscape I had never seen before.

Ugh, what the fuck. I desperately needed a Facetime to debrief all of this confusing absurdity with dearest Clementine.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────── 03: Making a Splash in the Pool of Love…Yikes

There were two types of people at the pool: those who gracefully slipped into the water like elegant swans, and those who cannonballed in with all the subtlety of a collapsing deck chair. I, unfortunately, was in a third category entirely—one reserved for the terminally awkward, perpetually flustered, and inexplicably magnetized to the deep end of mortification.

Oscar’s sisters were already in the water, splashing each other like some synchronized squad of professional pool gremlins. Mae was attempting what looked like a half-hearted handstand, her legs wobbling in the air before she toppled over, sending a spray of water in every direction. Edie was lounging on a float, sunglasses perched on her nose, lazily steering herself with one foot as if she were on a private yacht instead of a neon pink flamingo. Hattie, meanwhile, was narrating the entire scene like a sports commentator, complete with dramatic sound effects and questionable Australian accents.

And then there was Oscar, sitting poolside with all the ease of someone who belonged there, flashing that same infuriatingly smug grin every time he caught my eye. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a surf magazine—lean muscles, tousled hair, and the kind of relaxed confidence that made you both admire and want to dunk him underwater simultaneously.

Simply put, that sight, holy hell; absolutely delectable.

I was perched on the edge, feet dangling in the cool water, trying to summon the courage to just jump in and get it over with. But of course, that was when Oscar decided it was the perfect time to make things ten times worse.

“C’mon, what are you waiting for?” he called, tipping his sunglasses down just enough to look at me over the rim. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little water.”

I shot him a glare, but my attempt at intimidation was ruined by the fact that I was gripping the edge of the pool like it was my only lifeline. “I’m not scared,” I retorted, though my voice wavered. “I’m just… enjoying the view.” Which, unfortunately, sounded way more flirtatious than I intended.

Great. Just great.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he pushed himself up, sauntering over with a casualness that made my pulse race. “The view, huh? Glad I’m providing some entertainment,” he teased, crouching down beside me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I’ve gotta say, you’re missing out. Water’s perfect.”

And before I could protest, he stood up, gave me a cheeky wink, and cannonballed into the pool, sending a wave of water crashing over my legs and half-soaking my cover-up. I let out a yelp, half in surprise and half in pure exasperation as Oscar surfaced, slicking his hair back and laughing like he’d just pulled off the prank of the century.

“Welcome to the splash zone!” Mae cheered, throwing up her arms in mock celebration as Oscar floated by, still grinning like he’d won some imaginary competition.

I wiped the water from my face, feeling my resolve finally crack. It was either jump in or spend the rest of the afternoon as Oscar’s personal splash target, and I was too stubborn to give him that satisfaction. With one last deep breath, I stood up, tossed my cover-up to the side, and took the plunge, diving in with more determination than grace.

As I broke the surface, sputtering but exhilarated, Oscar swam up beside me, his smile impossibly bright. “There you go,” he said, flicking water at me playfully. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “One of the loonies, you mean.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with something that looked a lot like admiration. “Exactly. Welcome to the club.”

Before I could catch my breath, Oscar splashed me again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alright, now that you’re here, we’re playing a game of chicken. Me and you against Edie and Hattie. They’ve been running their mouths all day about how they’re undefeated.”

I blinked, caught completely off-guard by the suggestion. “Wait, chicken? You mean the one where you sit on someone’s shoulders and try to knock the other team down?”

Oscar nodded, his grin wide and challenging. “That’s the one. And don’t worry, I’m a solid base. You just have to keep Edie and Hattie from cheating, which is honestly the real challenge.”

I hesitated, glancing over at Edie and Hattie, who were already gearing up and flexing like they were entering an Olympic event. Edie perched confidently on Hattie’s shoulders, waving like a gladiator preparing for battle. The thought of sitting on Oscar’s shoulders, with everyone watching—and worse, his hands around my legs—made me momentarily freeze. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be manhandled by a guy I’d only known for three hours, no matter how distractingly good-looking he was.

“Nah, I think I’ll just watch,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my heart was thumping at the mere idea of the closeness. “I’m not really… a chicken kind of girl.”

Oscar wasn’t having it. He swam closer, his expression teasing but with a hint of something else, a playful determination that made it clear he wasn’t going to let me off that easily. “C’mon, don’t be a chicken about playing chicken,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with challenge. “It’ll be fun. Plus, I promise I won’t drop you. I’ve got a good grip.”

I shot him a skeptical look, my cheeks heating up again. “And why exactly should I trust you?”

Oscar’s smirk widened as he shifted his stance, flexing his biceps with dramatic flair, his movements comically slow and deliberate. He struck a pose like a cheesy fitness model from a 90s infomercial, his muscles bulging as he exaggerated each flex with a ridiculous amount of confidence. The water glistened on his tanned skin, catching the sunlight in a way that would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so over the top. He raised one arm and gave it a solid flex, his bicep swelling noticeably, and with a playful wink, he leaned in and kissed it like it was the crowning achievement of his life.

“Because these guns,” he declared, pausing to flex the other arm for good measure, “are the most reliable thing you’ll ever sit on.” He threw in a cocky wink that would’ve made any movie villain proud, followed by an exaggerated smooch to his own bicep that echoed like a cartoon sound effect.

Mae burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Oh my god, Oscar, you absolute dork. Stop embarrassing yourself!”

Edie rolled her eyes so hard I was worried they’d get stuck. “Seriously, bro, you’re one cheesy line away from handing out autographed photos.”

Oscar ignored them, continuing to pose as if he were standing in front of a crowd of adoring fans. He shifted his weight, flexing his triceps now, turning slightly to show off the muscles rippling along his back, all while maintaining that smirk that screamed, I know I look good, and I’m not sorry about it.

I couldn’t help but laugh, torn between genuine amusement and secondhand embarrassment. He was so shameless, so ridiculously over-the-top, that I almost didn’t notice the way his muscles moved with effortless strength beneath the surface. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel my cheeks heating up despite myself. The confidence, the sheer audacity of it all, was so uniquely Oscar, and I couldn’t deny the flutter of nerves—or something else—that danced in my stomach.

I snorted, half-laughing, half-cringing at his display. “Oh my god, that was the worst line I’ve ever heard. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And besides, you get to help me take those two down a notch. It’s a win-win.”

I looked at Edie and Hattie, who were already smirking at us from across the pool, and I felt a sudden surge of competitiveness rise up. Fine. If Oscar wanted a partner, I’d give him one—and maybe wipe that smug look off his sisters’ faces while I was at it.

“Alright, fine,” I relented, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a grin. “But if you drop me, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Oscar’s smile was blinding. “Deal.” He turned around and crouched slightly, patting his broad shoulders. “Hop on. I’ll keep you steady.”

I climbed onto his back, trying not to think too hard about how solid he felt under my hands, or the way his muscles flexed as he gripped my legs to steady me. I could feel every inch of his strength, and it was both comforting and ridiculously distracting. The water sloshed around us as he rose, effortlessly lifting me onto his shoulders. My heart pounded, but I tried to focus on the game instead of the feel of his strong, tanned skin under my hands.

“Hold on tight,” Oscar said, his voice light but filled with excitement. “We’re going to take them down.”

As we squared off against Edie and Hattie, the pool’s surface rippled around us, creating a vibrant, sun-dappled stage for our impending battle. I could feel every subtle shift of Oscar’s body beneath me, his muscles tensing and flexing as he adjusted his stance, effortlessly finding the right balance to keep us steady. Each small movement sent little jolts of energy through me, and I couldn’t ignore the sheer strength radiating from him, his back firm and his shoulders broad under my grip. He gave his shoulders a little roll, almost like a warm-up, making sure I felt every deliberate flex, each slight adjustment meant to show off his easy power.

“Comfortable up there?” he asked, his voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. He tilted his head back just enough so I could see the playful spark in his eyes, his cheeky grin widening as he caught my expression. He looked absurdly pleased with himself, like this was all part of some grand performance and I was his main audience.

“Oh yeah, super comfy,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but I couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at my lips. It was impossible not to smile; his energy was contagious, and the way he kept subtly flexing as if daring me to notice was half infuriating, half amusing. I squeezed my thighs around his neck for stability, feeling the corded strength in his shoulders respond instinctively. It was like being on top of a coiled spring—every movement precise, controlled, and brimming with unspoken confidence.

He chuckled, his laughter vibrating through me. “Good to hear. I’m not just holding you up—I’m making sure you’re getting the five-star experience.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny the exhilaration bubbling up inside me. Despite my initial reluctance, there was something undeniably thrilling about being perched on his shoulders, high above the water, surrounded by the sounds of splashing and laughter. The sun was warm on my skin, and the water glistened around us, catching the light in dazzling, ever-shifting patterns. And then there was Oscar’s energy—playful, supportive, and just cocky enough to make me want to win this silly game purely out of spite.

Oscar shifted beneath me, his muscles rippling as he adjusted to keep me perfectly balanced. His hands gripped my legs firmly, his touch sure and steady as if to remind me that, no matter how chaotic things got, he wasn’t letting me fall. I caught a quick glimpse of his grin, the way he was clearly enjoying every second of this, and it was impossible not to feel a rush of adrenaline mixed with something softer, something that made my heart beat just a little faster.

“Ready to take them down?” he asked, giving his shoulders another purposeful flex that sent a shiver through me, his playful arrogance on full display. “I’ve got the strength; you just bring the attitude.”

I tightened my grip, feeling a surge of competitive spirit rise within me. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of that,” I shot back, smirking down at him. “Just keep flexing, and we’ve got this in the bag.”

Oscar laughed, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a look that was half challenge, half flirtation. “You got it. Hang tight, and let’s show these amateurs how it’s done.”

Edie shot us a look, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re going down!” she called out, already reaching forward with determination.

“We’ll see about that!” Oscar taunted back, adjusting his stance and giving his sisters a cocky nod. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the best rider in the game.”

The match was on, and I focused all my energy on staying balanced and pushing back against Edie’s determined attacks. Oscar’s hands gripped my legs tightly, holding me steady as we twisted and turned in the water. I could feel his muscles working beneath me, and every so often, he’d flex just a bit more than necessary, as if to remind me of the strength holding me up.

“You sure you don’t mind all this muscle under you?” Oscar teased, glancing up with a flirtatious smile. “I mean, I can tone it down if it’s too distracting.”

I laughed, half-exasperated, half-flustered by his shameless flirting. “Just focus on the game, muscle man.”

Oscar chuckled, giving me another little flex just for show. “Oh, I am. But if it helps, think of this as a free ride. Gym membership included.”

With one final push, I managed to shove Edie just enough to throw her off balance, sending her toppling back into the water with a dramatic splash. The victory was sweet, made even better by the stunned look on Hattie’s face as she struggled to keep her sister afloat. Edie resurfaced with a gasp, water streaming from her hair as she spluttered and shot me a half-impressed, half-annoyed glare.

“Ha!” I cheered, throwing my arms up in triumph, barely managing to keep my balance on Oscar’s shoulders. “We won!” My voice echoed with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride.

Oscar laughed, his joy bubbling up as he spun us around in a celebratory twirl, the water splashing up in playful waves around us. I squealed, clutching his head to keep steady, but the sound was full of delight rather than fear. It was impossible not to get caught up in the moment, the sudden thrill of winning, and the infectious energy of everyone’s laughter.

“Told you we’d win,” Oscar said, looking up at me with that signature grin—broad, boyish, and brimming with a proud satisfaction that was almost contagious. He squeezed my legs slightly, just enough to remind me of his grip, his strength, and the fact that he’d been holding me up the whole time. “I never lose when I’ve got the right partner.”

I blushed, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through me at his words. The compliment was wrapped in that same playful bravado, but there was something genuine beneath it that caught me off guard. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I tried to play it cool, though my grin was impossible to hide. “Well, I guess you’re lucky to have me, then,” I teased, flicking a bit of water down at him.

Oscar chuckled, adjusting his hold and giving his shoulders a little roll as if to flex just one last time. “Lucky doesn’t even cover it,” he quipped, his voice dipping into something almost sincere, and I found myself momentarily lost in the playful glint of his eyes.

Meanwhile, Hattie was already splashing water at Edie, who was still bobbing indignantly in the pool. “You got beat by a newbie!” Hattie crowed, laughing at her sister’s expense. “I thought you said you were unstoppable?”

Edie scowled but couldn’t suppress a grin, brushing her wet hair out of her face. “Alright, alright, you got us. But don’t get too cocky—we’ll be back for a rematch,” she said, pointing a challenging finger at me. “Next time, you’re going down.”

Mae paddled over, clapping her hands in mock applause. “That was epic! New girl just dethroned the queens of chicken. How does it feel to be pool royalty?”

I couldn’t stop laughing, the adrenaline still coursing through me as I basked in the impromptu victory. “Feels pretty damn good,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly even though I was still buzzing from the rush. “But I’ll let you guys keep your crowns. I’m more of a co-ruler kind of girl.”

Oscar tilted his head back, looking at me with a playful admiration that made my heart skip a beat. “See? She’s humble, too. The whole package,” he said, giving me a slight squeeze with his shoulders that made me tighten my grip reflexively.

“Okay, seriously, stop flirting,” Mae groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she splashed water at us. “It’s getting nauseating.”

Hattie laughed, shaking her head as she swam closer. “Yeah, tone it down, Romeo. No one wants to watch you make goo-goo eyes while you’re being a human ladder.”

Oscar just grinned, unbothered by their teasing, and looked up at me with an exaggerated wink. “Sorry, can’t help it. It’s not every day you get to team up with someone who makes winning look this good.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flamed up at his unabashed flirtation. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but my voice was light, and I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest. For a moment, everything felt easy—like we were just two kids messing around, laughing, and letting the summer sun work its magic.

Mae, ever the bundle of energy, suddenly clapped her hands together, splashing water everywhere. “Alright, next game! We’re playing pool volleyball. Hattie, Edie, you’re with me. New girl and Romeo are on the other team,” she announced, pointing dramatically between us. “Time to see if you two are a one-hit wonder.”

Oscar’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “Oh, we’ll take you down,” he declared confidently, wading over to grab the neon volleyball bobbing nearby. “We’re basically undefeated at this point. Right, partner?”

“Undefeated for exactly one game,” I teased, but I couldn’t help feeling a competitive spark reignite. Mae quickly set up the makeshift “net,” which was really just a length of pool noodle stretched across the center of the pool, anchored down with pool chairs. It was half crooked, barely staying afloat, and not remotely official—but in that moment, it felt like the real deal.

Edie and Hattie took their places with Mae, who was already taunting us from across the water. “Ready to get wrecked? This is our turf, and we don’t go easy,” Mae called out, bouncing the ball a few times as if she were prepping for a major league serve.

Oscar leaned in close to me, his shoulder brushing mine under the water as he whispered, “They’re just sore losers. We’ve got this.”

The game kicked off with a wild serve from Mae that went soaring way over everyone’s heads and smacked into the side of the pool with a splash. “Nice aim,” I called, biting back a laugh.

“Shut up, it’s a warm-up!” Mae shot back, blushing as she retrieved the ball. She tried again, this time with a little more finesse, and the game was on.

Oscar and I found our rhythm surprisingly quickly, moving in sync as if we’d been playing together for ages. He’d bump the ball effortlessly, sending it just high enough for me to set it up perfectly, and I’d watch as he leapt out of the water with an exaggerated show of power, slamming it back over the noodle with a loud splash. Every point we scored, Oscar would raise his hand for a high-five, which quickly devolved into splashing water at each other playfully.

“Nice spike, partner!” I called, the thrill of teamwork coursing through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun doing something so simple. There was no pressure, no awkwardness—just pure, unfiltered enjoyment.

“Same to you!” Oscar responded, winking at me as he adjusted his swim shorts, the action so casual yet somehow making my heart skip a beat. “You’re making this too easy.”

The banter kept flowing as we played, each side fiercely determined not to lose. At one point, Hattie attempted a dramatic dive to save the ball, splashing wildly and nearly taking Edie down with her. “Friendly fire!” Edie yelped, giggling as they both resurfaced, water streaming from their hair.

Mae, ever competitive, huffed and glared at her sisters. “C’mon, focus! They’re not even that good!”

Oscar chuckled, elbowing me gently, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Hear that? We’re ‘not even that good.’ Guess we’ll have to try harder.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the not-so-subtle innuendo laced in his words. The way he said it—low, playful, with just the slightest hint of mischief—made my face heat up instantly. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks, and there was no hiding it. It was like my skin had betrayed me, broadcasting exactly how flustered I felt.

I tried to play it off, clearing my throat and splashing water at him as a distraction. “Y-Yeah, maybe you should work on that,” I shot back, aiming for a confident tone, but my voice wavered just enough to make Oscar’s grin widen. His eyes were locked on mine, sparkling with a knowing look that made my stomach flip.

“Is that a challenge?” he teased, his smirk growing as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying how flustered I’d become. “Because I’m always up for trying harder.”

I sputtered, feeling the heat intensify across my face. This wasn’t fair—he was effortlessly charming, and I was just trying not to combust on the spot. “I meant at volleyball, obviously,” I muttered, though my flustered state made the retort sound weak. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rich and teasing as he splashed me back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, but the playful glint in his eyes told me he was fully aware of how his words had landed. “But hey, if you’re blushing this much already, maybe we really should up our game.”

I could practically feel my cheeks burning, and I desperately tried to focus on anything other than the way his grin made my heart race. “You’re impossible,” I managed to say, but my tone lacked any real bite. It was hard to stay annoyed when he looked at me like that, with his eyes dancing between flirtation and genuine enjoyment.

Oscar just shrugged, still grinning as he pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “Only when it’s this much fun,” he said, giving me one last playful wink before turning his attention back to the game.

With one final serve from Oscar, the ball sailed perfectly over the net, and Edie reached for it just a second too late, sending it skimming across the water and out of bounds. The game was ours, and we celebrated like we’d just won an Olympic gold.

“Victory!” Oscar shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph before pulling me into a playful, wet hug, lifting me off my feet briefly before setting me back down with a splash. “We’re officially unstoppable.”

I laughed, caught up in the infectious joy of the moment, even as I tried to shove him away playfully. “We’re a pretty good team,” I admitted, feeling the heat in my cheeks again as I realized how much I meant it.

“Good? We’re amazing,” Oscar corrected, his grin wide and genuine. He was still holding onto my arm, and the closeness between us was impossible to ignore. “And just for the record, I’m always down for a rematch. Same team?”

I looked at him, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, the cool water around us, and the flutter of excitement that had been there all day. “Same team,” I agreed, smiling as I splashed him one last time. “But only if you promise to keep showing off.”

Oscar’s laugh rang out clear and carefree, echoing across the pool. “Deal. With you around, I can’t help it.”

Before I could fire back a playful retort, the sound of my mom’s voice cut through the afternoon air. “Hey, everyone! Dinner’s almost ready!” she called from the patio, waving a spatula like a dinner bell. “Come dry off and get ready to eat!”

Immediately, the savory aroma of grilled kabobs wafted toward us, filling the air with the smoky scent of marinated chicken, bell peppers, and onions, all sizzling perfectly on the grill. My stomach rumbled in response, and I could already imagine the burst of flavors—the juicy, seasoned meat, the slight char from the grill, and the sweet tang of roasted vegetables. I could smell warm, buttery corn on the cob, the faint, sweet scent of freshly baked bread, and the mouthwatering aroma of garlic butter wafting from a pan of golden potatoes roasting nearby. The sharp, tangy scent of freshly made tzatziki filled the air, mingling with hints of lemon zest and olive oil, making the whole backyard smell like a perfect summer feast.

I glanced at the others, who were already paddling toward the pool’s edge, eager to get their hands on the spread. “Guess it’s time to eat,” I said, half to myself, but Oscar was still watching me with that easy smile, his gaze lingering a little too long.

“Need a hand?” he asked, swimming over and extending his arm to help me out. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but as I reached up to take his hand, I could feel the weight of his gaze trailing over me—curious, appreciative, and making my pulse quicken all at once.

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled, feeling awkwardly aware of the way the water dripped off my skin, each droplet tracing a cool path down my legs. Oscar’s grip was firm and warm as he pulled me up, his fingers wrapping around mine with an effortless strength that sent a jolt of awareness straight to my core. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, and when he finally did, the absence of his hand felt oddly significant, like a small but noticeable void.

For a brief moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background—the laughter from the pool, the faint sizzle of the grill, the warm chatter of his sisters in the distance. It was just the two of us, and I was hyper-aware of every detail: the way his eyes traced the water cascading off my legs, the slight upward curve of his lips as if he found the whole scene incredibly fascinating, and the way his gaze felt almost tangible, brushing over me like a warm caress.

I reached for my towel, wrapping it around myself in a clumsy attempt to shield against the sudden vulnerability of his stare. I tried to focus on drying off, rubbing the soft fabric over my arms and shoulders, but every time I looked up, Oscar’s eyes were still on me—intense, unwavering, and far too distracting.

He leaned casually against the pool’s edge, his wet hair slicked back, the sun catching droplets on his skin that made him look like some kind of Greek statue come to life. But it was his expression that really caught me off guard—his usual playful smirk had softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, almost contemplative. It was like he was seeing me differently, not just the girl who had been splashing and laughing with him all day, but someone who held his attention in a way that felt new and unexpected.

“You alright there?” Oscar asked, his voice low and a little rough around the edges, pulling me out of my tangled thoughts. He didn’t look away, and his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—curiosity, admiration, maybe even a hint of something deeper.

“Yeah, just… you know, drying off,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed me, coming out breathless and light. I patted my hair with the towel, desperately hoping it would distract from the heat creeping up my neck and cheeks. But his gaze stayed locked on mine, like he was searching for something in my expression that I didn’t even know was there.

Oscar’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You sure? You look a little… flustered,” he said, the teasing back in his tone, but softer, gentler than before. There was a hint of something else in his voice too, something that made my heart skip.

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off even though I could feel my blush deepening under his scrutiny. “I’m not flustered,” I said, but it sounded weak even to my ears. “It’s just… hot out, and the water’s cold, and…” I trailed off, realizing I was babbling.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my struggle to keep my composure. “Sure, blame the weather,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar flirtation that made my pulse quicken. “But for the record, you’re pulling it off pretty well.”

I bit back a smile, unable to meet his eyes directly as I wrapped the towel tighter around me. “Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and oddly exhilarated by his attention. He made it impossible to just shrug things off, to pretend like his lingering gaze didn’t affect me when, in reality, it felt like the most charged thing in the entire backyard.

Oscar pushed off the pool’s edge and stepped closer, his presence warm and solid, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. “You know,” he said, voice low and intimate, “I’ve seen a lot of people get out of pools, but none of them have ever managed to make it look like… this.”

I stared at him, caught between laughter and mortification. “Like what? Wet?” I shot back, trying to diffuse the tension, but it only made him smile more, a lazy, appreciative smile that sent another wave of heat rushing to my face.

“No,” he replied, taking a beat as if considering his next words carefully. “Like you’re the best thing I’ve seen all day.” His voice was quieter now, more earnest, and the sincerity in his eyes made my breath hitch.

The world seemed to tilt just a little, the sounds around us fading into the background as I searched for a response that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete idiot. “You… you’re ridiculous,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice steady. But there was no hiding the way my cheeks were blazing or the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

Oscar just grinned, seemingly pleased with himself as he picked up his own towel and started to dry off, though his eyes kept drifting back to me every few moments. It was like he couldn’t help himself, like something about this silly, sun-soaked afternoon had shifted between us in a way that neither of us fully understood yet.

I tried to play it cool, focusing on the scent of the food that was calling us closer. But it was hard to ignore the electric current in the air, the way Oscar’s eyes lingered on me with an intensity that made me feel seen, maybe even a little wanted. The warmth of his gaze seemed to burn hotter than the sun, like he was committing every detail of me to memory—the way my hair clung damply to my shoulders, the flush of my skin, the shy smiles I kept trying to hide.

I fidgeted with my towel, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Oscar’s attention never wavered. He stepped closer, his expression still caught between playful and sincere, as if he was searching for something in my reaction that would let him keep pushing the boundaries. His fingers grazed the towel slung over his shoulder as he looked at me, and there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before—a kind of unspoken question hanging between us.

“You don’t have to be so modest, you know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that familiar edge of teasing that I’d grown so used to. But there was a gentleness there, too, a hint of something more genuine. “It’s okay to let people see how great you are.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift from playful banter to something more personal, something that made my heart stumble. “You’re really laying it on thick today, huh?” I said, trying to laugh it off, but the words came out shakier than I intended.

Oscar shrugged, his smile turning softer, less cocky. “Only because you make it easy,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The way he said it—without hesitation, without the usual bravado—made my pulse quicken, and I had to look away, pretending to adjust my towel just to break the intensity of his stare.

But he wasn’t letting up. As we walked toward the patio, his gaze never strayed far, occasionally dipping down as if he couldn’t help but take in every detail. I could feel the weight of it, warm and steady, and it made my skin tingle in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

We reached the table where the food was spread out—a colorful array of kabobs, salads, and bowls brimming with sides. My mom was fussing over the final touches, sprinkling fresh herbs over a platter of roasted vegetables, while the others were already grabbing plates and chatting animatedly. But I was still caught in the lingering tension of Oscar’s words, the way he’d looked at me like I was something special, something worth noticing.

“Hey,” Oscar said softly, catching my arm just as I reached for a plate. His touch was gentle, a light brush of his fingers that sent another wave of heat rushing through me. “I meant what I said, you know. You really are… something else.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. His eyes were serious, searching mine as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. And for once, I didn’t have a sarcastic comeback or a teasing remark. All I could do was nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks, Oscar.”

His smile widened, this time more genuine than any of the smirks he’d flashed all day. “Anytime,” he said, his voice full of unspoken promises that made my chest tighten.

As I picked up my plate and moved to join the others, I could still feel the weight of his gaze on me, warm and unyielding. It was a look that said everything and nothing all at once, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a poolside flirtation. And as we sat down to eat, surrounded by the familiar hum of conversation and laughter, I couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected spark between us would lead—or if I was ready to find out.

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06: O-live-You And Other Things That Could've Been Said

The moment we stepped outside, the heat hit us like a solid wall. The sun was already high in the sky, radiating a fierce, unrelenting intensity that made the air shimmer like a mirage. It felt like stepping into an oven, the kind where the heat clings to your skin and settles in your bones, refusing to let go. The cobblestones beneath our feet were warm to the touch, and the faint breeze that occasionally swept by offered little relief, more like a faint exhale of hot air than anything truly cooling.

Mae immediately fanned herself with her hand, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. “Oh my god, it’s not even ten yet and I’m already melting. I swear, this island is trying to roast us alive.”

Edie tugged at the collar of her tank top, flapping it to get some air. “I don’t know how people live like this. I can feel my makeup sliding off my face. At this rate, I’m going to look like a Picasso painting by noon.”

Hattie pulled her hair into a messy bun, beads of sweat already forming at her temples. “We’re officially in a sauna. A beautiful, picturesque sauna that’s actively trying to kill us with heatstroke.”

Oscar wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his shirt clinging to his back. “You guys are such drama queens,” he said, though his own forehead was glistening with sweat. “It’s not that bad. Just… extremely, painfully hot.”

Mae shot him an incredulous look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not that bad? I can practically see the soles of my shoes melting into the pavement. If I pass out, just drag me to the nearest air-conditioned place and leave me there.”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at me. “You holding up okay, or should we start taking bets on who drops first?”

I fanned myself with my hand, feeling the heat radiate off the ground in waves. “I’m fine, but I might have to invest in one of those little handheld fans soon. Or, you know, a personal ice bath.”

Oscar shot me a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling despite the beads of sweat gathering at his temples. “An ice bath, huh? That’s my kind of recovery. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to cooling down after a race. Maybe I could show you how it’s done—F1 style.”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face was impossible to hide. “Oh, so what, we’re going to do some pit stops for hydration and tire changes along the way too?”

Oscar laughed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Only if you’re up for it. I can be your personal pit crew. We’ll keep it professional, of course… until we get to the ice bath part.”

Mae groaned loudly, rolling her eyes as she overheard. “Please, Oscar. Save the flirting for after I’ve downed a liter of water and found some shade. We’re all dying here, and you’re still trying to turn this into a date.”

Oscar just shrugged, unbothered, and shot me a wink. “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the full experience. And hey, if it involves ice baths and a little friendly competition, I’m all in.”

I nudged him playfully, feeling a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. “Well, if you can handle the heat on the track, I’m sure you can handle a little morning market stroll. But I’m holding you to that ice bath promise—I might just need it after this.”

Oscar smirked, leaning in closer. “You got it. I’ll even make sure it’s got all the F1 essentials—like speed, precision, and just enough flirtation to keep things interesting.”

His teasing sent a shiver down my spine despite the scorching heat, and for a moment, I almost forgot about the sun beating down on us. But then another wave of hot air hit, reminding us all just how relentless the day was going to be.

Hattie, overhearing our exchange, fanned herself dramatically and shook her head. “Alright, you two, keep it cool… literally. We’re about five minutes away from turning into human puddles, and I’m not prepared to deal with that kind of meltdown.”

We all laughed, the tension easing as we continued down the path, our steps a little lighter despite the oppressive heat. And as Oscar’s playful banter echoed in my ears, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, a little F1-style cool-down wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Edie let out a groan, shielding her eyes with her hand. “At this point, I’d settle for a bucket of ice water to the face. I don’t care about looking cute; I just want to survive.”

As we trudged along, the heat wrapped around us like a heavy blanket, every breath feeling thick and labored. The chatter continued, but now it was peppered with complaints and exaggerated groans, each of us trying to find some humor in the absurdity of the oppressive sun. The market couldn’t come soon enough, and as we walked, we silently vowed to find the nearest shade—or, even better, a cold drink—before any of us truly combusted under the relentless summer blaze.

Oscar fell into step beside me, close enough that our arms brushed as we walked. “Bet you five euros Mae buys something completely useless within the first ten minutes.”

I grinned, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “I’ll take that bet. But I think it’s going to be Edie who cracks first. She’s got that look in her eye—like she’s on a mission to buy something she doesn’t need.”

Oscar laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re on. This might be the easiest money I’ve ever made.”

We continued down the winding path, the sun already blazing above us and making every surface shimmer with heat. The air was so thick and warm, it felt like walking through a giant hairdryer, and every step seemed to bring a fresh wave of stickiness that clung to our skin. The occasional shade from an overhanging tree felt like a blessed oasis, but those moments were fleeting, and soon we were back in the relentless glare.

Mae groaned dramatically, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she fanned her neck with her hand. “I swear, this is how people end up in documentaries about survival. If I faint, just drag me to the nearest gelato stand.”

Edie, already looking flushed and slightly disheveled, tugged at her tank top. “Forget gelato; I’m about two minutes away from dunking my head in the nearest fountain. I can’t believe people live like this.”

Hattie chimed in, her voice laced with mock despair. “I feel like I’m being slow-cooked. If this is a test of endurance, I’m failing spectacularly. Someone tell me why we thought coming out in this heat was a good idea?”

Oscar glanced at me, his smile wicked. “Don’t worry, everyone. I’ve got it all under control. We’ll get to the market, find some shade, and then maybe I’ll set up an ice bath demo right there in the middle of the square. I’m sure it’ll be the highlight of everyone’s day.”

I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Oh yeah, nothing says local culture like a makeshift ice bath. You’ll have an audience in no time, and I’m pretty sure they’d crown you the king of market day.”

Oscar flashed me a grin, his hand brushing mine as we walked. “As long as you’re there to cheer me on, I’m ready to make it happen. We can call it ‘Beat the Heat: The Oscar Edition.’”

Mae, overhearing us, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m not paying to see that, but I’ll definitely take a video. It’s going viral, for sure.”

Oscar shot her a mock glare. “Only if you promise to catch my good side. And for the record, I’m pretty sure this ice bath idea is going to save lives today.”

Edie snorted, already scanning the stalls in the distance as the market came into view. “Oscar, you’re not saving lives. You’re just trying to impress your new audience,” she teased, giving him a playful nudge. “But hey, if it gets us a cold drink faster, I’m all for it.”

The market was a sensory overload in the best possible way—vibrant stalls overflowing with fresh fruits, handmade trinkets, and colorful textiles flapping in the light breeze. The mingling aromas of spices, fresh bread, and grilling meats filled the air, and every few steps, a vendor would call out to us, trying to lure us in with their wares. The place was alive with people—locals haggling with vendors, tourists snapping photos, and children darting between stalls with sticky fingers and delighted grins.

Oscar and I wandered through the aisles, pausing occasionally to admire a particularly colorful display of woven baskets or to sample a piece of sweet, juicy melon that a vendor insisted we try. It was a chaotic, joyful atmosphere, and despite the heat, I found myself genuinely enjoying the experience.

That is, until we reached a stall filled with every kind of olive you could imagine. From glossy black olives marinated in herbs to bright green ones stuffed with garlic, the selection was endless. Oscar, with his usual mischievous glint, picked up a toothpick and speared an olive, holding it out to me.

“Come on, try this one. I promise, it’s the best thing you’ll ever taste,” he said, his voice dripping with the confidence of someone who’d already decided the outcome.

I eyed the olive suspiciously, but the look on his face was so hopeful and endearing that I couldn’t refuse. I took the olive, popped it into my mouth, and almost immediately regretted my decision. The taste hit me like a freight train—intensely salty, bitter, and pungent, with a weirdly spicy kick that felt like it was attacking my taste buds from all sides.

I gagged, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was no use. My eyes watered, and I felt the immediate, burning need to spit it out. But before I could, I accidentally inhaled, choking on the olive’s briny juice in the most unattractive way possible. I doubled over, coughing and sputtering, as the taste continued to assault my senses.

Oscar, realizing what had happened, tried to help by patting me on the back, but his well-meaning thumps only made things worse. I stumbled forward, knocking into a rack of precariously balanced jars filled with pickled vegetables. The entire display wobbled ominously before tipping over with a loud crash, sending jars shattering to the ground and splattering their contents all over my sandals.

“Bloody fuck!” Oscar yelped, jumping back as brine and pickled peppers splashed up around us. He reached out, grabbing my arm to steady me, but we were both already slipping in the mess.

I finally managed to spit out the offending olive, doubling over in laughter as I wiped tears from my eyes. “Oh my god, that was—what the hell was in that olive? I think I just tasted hell!”

Oscar, trying to suppress his own laughter, looked down at the mess we’d made. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t think it would be that bad! You looked like you were being possessed by some ancient demon.”

“Note to self,” I managed between gasps, “never, ever take an olive recommendation from you again.”

Oscar grinned sheepishly, still holding onto my arm to keep us both from slipping. “Deal. But hey, at least it’s a market memory we won’t forget anytime soon.”

We worked together to gather the scattered jars, our hands brushing occasionally, sending small electric jolts through my already flustered system. The vendor, a grumpy old man with a thick mustache and a fierce scowl, continued muttering under his breath, clearly unimpressed with our attempts to make amends. I offered him a sheepish smile, trying not to slip on the brine-soaked pavement, while Oscar dug into his wallet, pulling out a few euros to cover the damage.

As we finished up, Oscar turned to me with that infuriatingly charming grin of his. “Well, that’s one way to make an impression. I’d say we’re officially banned from the olive section.”

I laughed, wiping my hands on my dress, which was now speckled with flecks of pickling spices. “At this rate, we’re going to get banned from the whole market. I mean, who knew olives could be so dangerous?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Dangerous? I’d say they were just misunderstood. But hey, if you want to blame me for this epic disaster, I’ll take the fall.” He struck a dramatic pose, hand over his heart, like a martyr taking the blame for a noble cause. “I, Oscar from Australia, solemnly swear to never force-feed you another olive as long as we both shall live.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress my grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re apologizing. Otherwise, I’d still be gagging over that monstrosity you made me eat.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a mock whisper. “Lucky? I think you’re just softening up to me, olive incident and all.”

I pushed him lightly, but the warmth in his gaze didn’t falter, and I found myself caught in the easy rhythm of his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head. But you’re definitely going to owe me an ice cream after this.”

Oscar smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Ice cream? Please, we’re in Greece. You mean gelato,” he corrected, his voice dripping with playful mockery. He stepped closer, his tone teasing but his proximity making my heart skip a beat. “And trust me, I know the best place. Only the finest for my olive-battle buddy.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Alright, Mr. Gelato Expert. Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, we were standing at a small gelato stand, the sweet, creamy scent wafting through the air, instantly making me forget the earlier chaos. Oscar handed me a scoop of hazelnut gelato, then grabbed his own, a vibrant pistachio. As he took a triumphant bite, a dollop of green gelato smeared right onto his nose, turning the flirty moment into an adorably ridiculous one.

I stifled a laugh, trying to keep my composure as he continued to talk, completely unaware of the green splotch on his face. “See? This is real dessert. None of that commercialized stuff—”

I burst out laughing, and he paused, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Uh, you’ve got a little… something,” I said, pointing to my own nose as a hint.

He tried to swipe at it but missed, smearing it even more. “This?”

I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from laughing too hard. “Here, let me.” Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers gently brushing his nose as I wiped away the sticky gelato. The touch was brief, but it was enough to make my pulse quicken.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the busy market around us had faded away, leaving just the two of us in a little bubble of shared laughter and unspoken tension. Oscar’s gaze softened, the playful glint giving way to something deeper as he leaned in slightly, our faces close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I think I’m going to have to spill gelato on myself more often if it gets you this close.”

I laughed softly, still feeling the tingling of where his nose had brushed against my fingertips. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but there was no hiding the smile on my face. “But if that’s your plan, maybe try keeping it on your gelato next time.”

Oscar chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief as he leaned in just a little closer, closing the already narrow gap between us. “Can’t make any promises,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasingly low, flirtatious tone that sent a familiar thrill coursing through me. “Besides, I’m not sure gelato is half as fun without a little mess.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading through my chest made it impossible to hide the grin tugging at my lips. “I’m starting to think you do it on purpose,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably as Oscar’s thumb grazed a stray bit of gelato from the corner of my mouth, his touch lingering just a beat longer than necessary.

He shrugged, still impossibly close, his grin broadening. “What can I say? Keeps things interesting.” His voice softened, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered to my lips before meeting my eyes again, his expression a mix of playfulness and something deeper that made my heart skip. “But I have to admit, I’ve got pretty good taste.”

I felt my cheeks flush under his steady gaze, the space between us charged with an almost tangible electricity. The casualness of his words belied the underlying tension simmering just beneath the surface, each flirty remark and lingering touch a dare to step closer, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“Yeah?” I challenged, tilting my head slightly, unable to resist the pull of the moment. “Well, just so you know, you’re not the only one with good taste.”

Oscar's eyes darkened with a mix of intrigue and something more playful, his smile never wavering as he scooted closer, his thigh brushing against mine on the impossibly narrow bench. The space between us was almost nonexistent now, our legs tangled in a way that felt intimate, unspoken, and thrillingly reckless. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the brush of his arm against mine sending little jolts of electricity through me.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he said, his voice low and edged with that teasing drawl that made my pulse quicken. He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel his breath, warm and sweet, grazing my cheek. “But I think I like hearing you admit it.”

The proximity, the way his eyes held mine without flinching, had my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I tried to play it cool, but the intensity of his gaze, the closeness of his body, made every breath feel charged with possibility.

“You’re really pushing your luck,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless. His knee nudged mine, a playful, subtle reminder of how little space was left between us.

Oscar smirked, scooting even closer, his leg pressing against mine with a deliberate pressure that sent my nerves into overdrive. “Maybe,” he whispered, his lips barely an inch away from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “But something tells me you’re not exactly complaining.”

The words hung between us, laced with a flirty challenge that dared me to push back, to match his game. I tried to muster a witty comeback, but all I could focus on was the feel of his thigh against mine, his shoulder brushing my arm, the intoxicating closeness that made the world around us blur.

“Bold assumption,” I managed to say, but my voice wavered, betraying the flutter of excitement thrumming beneath my calm facade. “What makes you think you’re so irresistible?”

Oscar grinned, his confidence unwavering as he leaned in, closing the gap until his lips were just a breath away from mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his smile. “Call it a hunch,” he murmured, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “Or maybe it’s just that look you give me every time I get this close.”

My breath hitched, and I found myself leaning in without meaning to, drawn to the warmth of his presence, the challenge in his eyes. His teasing was relentless, but it was the way he looked at me—like this was all just foreplay for something much bigger—that left me breathless, my heart racing as if daring me to make the next move.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” I said, my voice a shaky whisper, half accusation, half something else entirely.

Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb brushing my wrist in a touch so light it sent a ripple of warmth through my whole body. “And you love it,” he said simply, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for doubt. And maybe, just maybe, he was right.

My heart pounded in my chest, the air between us thick with unspoken tension, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me. But just as the moment reached its peak, a loud honk blasted through the air, startling us both.

We jerked apart, whipping our heads around to see a vendor on a tiny motorbike, zigzagging through the crowded market with a basket of fresh bread strapped precariously to the back. He shouted something in Greek that I couldn’t quite catch, but the tone made it clear—get out of the way or risk getting run over by a man determined to deliver his breakfast goods.

Oscar laughed, breaking the spell as he scooted back just enough to avoid a collision. “Well, that’s one way to ruin the mood,” he said, still chuckling as he raked a hand through his hair, his confidence momentarily deflated by the absurdity of the scene.

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the tension between us dissolving into sheer ridiculousness. “Guess the universe decided you needed to cool it,” I teased, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “Pretty sure you just got cockblocked by a bread guy.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright. I get it. Even the universe thinks I’m too much to handle.” He leaned back against the bench, shaking his head as he watched the motorbike weave away into the crowd. “Who knew my biggest competition would be a guy delivering carbs?”

I snorted, trying to stifle my laughter. “Hey, everyone’s gotta eat. Maybe take it as a sign to slow your roll.”

Before Oscar could respond with another flirty comeback, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, followed by a burst of laughter. Suddenly, Mae leaped onto Oscar’s back, her arms flailing as she yelled, “Revenge is sweet!” Oscar staggered forward, caught completely off guard, and nearly dropped his gelato.

“What the—Mae!” Oscar exclaimed, half-laughing, half-groaning as he tried to regain his balance. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Mae grinned wickedly, clinging to his shoulders like a monkey. “Just evening the score for this morning’s stealth attack, big brother. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people.”

Hattie and Edie appeared behind them, both wearing matching amused smirks. Hattie folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been looking for you two all over. Thought you’d ditched us for some secret gelato rendezvous.”

Edie nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, Mae said you were probably off flirting somewhere. Turns out she was right.”

I could feel my cheeks flush as I glanced at Oscar, who was still trying to pry Mae off his back without spilling his gelato. “Us? Flirting?” I said, feigning innocence. “We were just… enjoying our ice cream. Totally innocent.”

Mae finally hopped off Oscar’s back, adjusting her shirt with a triumphant smile. “Sure, sure. We believe you. But don’t think we didn’t see that little moment just now. If you’re gonna get all cute and flirty, at least invite us next time so we can take notes.”

Oscar rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head at Mae’s antics. “You’re all just jealous of my natural charm. Can’t a guy enjoy gelato in peace?”

Hattie smirked, nudging Edie. “Or maybe we just like keeping you on your toes. After all, someone’s gotta make sure you’re not too distracted by… certain distractions.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “Don’t worry, girls. I’ve got it all under control. And besides, someone’s gotta keep him from knocking over gelato carts.”

Oscar shot me a look of mock betrayal, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Great, now I’ve got all of you ganging up on me. But hey, if it gets Mae off my back—literally—I’ll take it.”

Mae patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Aw, don’t be such a baby. We’re just here to keep you grounded. And if that means ambushing you from time to time, then so be it.”

Oscar shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You all have too much fun at my expense.”

Hattie, always ready with a quick retort, smirked as she picked up a napkin to wipe some melted gelato off the bench. “Hey, it’s only fair. You spent the entire morning trying to charm the life out of everyone. We’re just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

Edie leaned against the bench, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And let’s be real, Oscar—keeping you grounded is practically a full-time job. It’s like herding a cat with a God complex.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. I get it—I’m officially outnumbered.”

Mae grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, definitely. But you love it. You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Oscar glanced at me, his grin widening. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve got some backup now. Someone’s gotta be on my side.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here for the gelato and entertainment. You’re on your own.”

The sisters burst into laughter, and Oscar let out an exaggerated sigh. “See? This is my life now—betrayed by everyone I care about.”

“Hey,” Mae said, elbowing him in the side. “That’s the price you pay for being charming and annoyingly persistent.”

Oscar slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into a playful side hug. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s a small price to pay for being this irresistible.”

Edie rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. “There he goes again. We can’t take you anywhere.”

I glanced at the bags the sisters were carrying, each one bursting with colorful trinkets, snacks, and what looked like the most random assortment of souvenirs imaginable. “So, what did you guys get? Anything worth bragging about?”

Hattie held up a woven fan, waving it dramatically in front of her face. “Essential survival gear,” she declared. “If I have to hear Mae complain about the heat one more time, this thing’s getting thrown at her.”

Mae shot her a look, then pulled out a tiny carved wooden turtle with a goofy grin etched into its face. “I got this little guy. He’s the new mascot of our misadventures. And don’t you dare say he’s useless, because I’m emotionally attached now.”

Edie, not to be outdone, produced a pair of wildly patterned sunglasses that looked like they’d been pulled straight out of a 1980s music video. “And I got these. They were practically begging to be bought.”

I grinned, exchanging a knowing look with Oscar. “Well, well, looks like I win the bet. Edie cracked first.” I held out my hand toward Oscar, palm up. “That’ll be five euros, please.”

Oscar sighed dramatically, fishing the crumpled bill out of his pocket. “I should’ve known better than to bet against your instincts.” He slapped the money into my hand, feigning disappointment. “Enjoy your winnings.”

Mae’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between us. “Wait, wait, wait. You guys bet on us?”

Oscar shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s all in good fun. I just had a feeling Edie wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of something ridiculous.”

Edie clutched her sunglasses to her chest in mock outrage. “You bet on us? What are we, a reality show now? Next thing I know, there’ll be a scoreboard tracking all our bad decisions.”

Hattie laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I feel betrayed, but also kinda proud. At least you guys know us well enough to make accurate predictions.”

Mae crossed her arms, a mock pout on her lips. “I would’ve bet on Edie too, though. She can’t go five minutes without buying something weird.”

I smirked, pocketing my euros. “Don’t worry, it’s all out of love. And hey, at least now I’m five euros richer.”

Oscar slung his arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But I’m coming back for that money, just you wait.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the easy camaraderie between us all. “Well, you’re welcome to try, but I think I’ll keep my winning streak going.”

As the playful energy buzzed between us, we decided to split up again—Mae and Edie darting off towards a stall selling handcrafted jewelry, and Hattie wandering towards a display of local ceramics. Oscar nudged me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward a boutique nestled at the end of the market. “Let’s check out that shop. Looks like your kind of place.”

I followed his gaze to a quaint little boutique tucked into a narrow alley, its entrance framed by delicate vines of bougainvillea spilling over the roof. The shop’s exterior was painted in soft pastels, and a whimsical, hand-painted sign above the door read Marina’s Closet in elegant, looping script. The glass windows were filled with a curated display of dresses, sun hats, and accessories, each item carefully arranged to catch the eye. Through the window, I could see racks of brightly colored clothes, twinkling with the promise of a well-spent afternoon.

As we stepped inside, the cool air was a welcome relief from the heat outside. The shop was small but charming, filled with an eclectic mix of elegant summer dresses, flowy skirts, and delicate blouses in fabrics that ranged from soft linens to airy silks. The walls were painted a soft blush pink, and the space was filled with carefully arranged plants, their green leaves trailing down the walls and adding to the shop’s intimate, garden-like feel. Soft music played overhead—a mix of gentle acoustic and soft pop that set a relaxing, dreamy mood.

Antique mirrors lined the walls, their ornate, gold-gilded frames reflecting the soft light of the hanging lanterns that gave the boutique a warm, cozy glow. Shelves displayed colorful accessories—scarves, statement necklaces, and wide-brimmed hats, each one more elegant than the last. The floor was a mix of polished wood and a plush rug in the center, creating a sense of luxury and comfort all at once.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled as he glanced over the selection, his smile widening as he pulled out a flowing dress in a delicate shade of dusty rose. “This place is pretty cool. It’s got that ‘I know I’m expensive’ vibe,” he joked, running his thumb over the soft fabric. “But hey, nothing wrong with dreaming a little, right?”

I nodded, trailing behind him as he moved down the aisle. My fingers brushed against a rack of silk blouses and embroidered tops, each more intricate than the last. I picked up a dress—a light blue number with delicate floral patterns stitched along the hem—and flipped the tag over, my eyes widening at the price. “Yeah, it’s definitely out of my usual budget. I mean, I love window shopping, but this stuff? This is like, ‘Do I need to sell a kidney?’ territory.”

Oscar glanced at me, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he gently took the dress from my hand, holding it up against me. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. “And besides, it looks amazing. You should try it on.”

I hesitated, looking around at the boutique’s carefully curated atmosphere, every detail screaming exclusivity. “I don’t know, Oscar. This isn’t exactly my kind of place. I’m more of a ‘sale rack at Zara’ kind of girl. And these prices? Let’s just say they’re a bit much.”

But Oscar didn’t seem to care about the price tags or my hesitations. He found another dress—a soft lavender one with a cinched waist and delicate lace detailing at the shoulders—and held it out to me, his grin never faltering. “Just try it on. What’s the harm? It’s not every day you get to play dress-up in a fancy place like this.” he said, his voice casual but sincere. “Try it on. What’s the harm in that?”

I hesitated, glancing at the price tag again. “Oscar, this stuff is like... ridiculously overpriced. I don’t think trying on a dress I can’t afford is gonna make me feel better.”

He grinned, nudging me gently. “Come on, it’s just for fun. And besides, you never know—maybe you’ll fall in love with something, and I’ll just have to figure out how to make it yours.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Fine, but only because you’re annoyingly convincing.” I took the dress from his hands and headed toward the fitting room, the soft fabric cool against my skin.

Inside the fitting room, I slipped into the dress, feeling the way the light material draped elegantly over my figure. It was simple yet stunning, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and a flowing skirt that brushed just above my ankles. I smoothed my hands over the fabric, feeling unexpectedly confident as I stepped out to show Oscar.

His eyes lit up as he saw me, and he leaned back against one of the mirrored walls, his gaze roaming appreciatively. “Wow,” he said, the word coming out in a breathless sort of way that made my cheeks warm. “You look... amazing.”

I twirled slightly, watching the dress flare out around me. “Yeah? You don’t think it’s too much?”

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not at all. It’s perfect. But let’s see more—you’re not done yet.”

Encouraged by his reaction, I tried on a few more dresses—a pastel blue sundress with delicate embroidery that hugged my waist and a soft, buttery yellow wrap dress with fluttery sleeves. Each time I stepped out, Oscar’s praise came easy, his eyes bright with genuine admiration that left me feeling both flattered and slightly overwhelmed.

I stood before the mirror, dressed in the last outfit—a bold, deep green dress with a plunging neckline and an effortlessly elegant cut that made me feel like I was stepping into another world. I turned slightly, admiring the way the color brought out the warmth in my skin. “I can’t decide,” I admitted, biting my lip as I looked at the three dresses hanging beside me. “They’re all so beautiful, but...”

Oscar stepped closer, his reflection appearing beside mine in the mirror. “Why choose?” he said lightly, his hand brushing my shoulder as he gazed at the dresses. “You look incredible in all of them.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Oscar, that’s not how this works. These dresses are... well, let’s just say they’re not in my usual shopping cart. I have to pick one, and even that feels like a splurge.”

But Oscar just shrugged, his smile turning teasing. “Or you could let me handle it. Consider it my treat.”

I blinked, turning to face him fully. “No way. Oscar, you can’t just—”

He cut me off with a playful roll of his eyes, already reaching for his wallet. “I can and I will. Besides, you’re the one who’s been keeping me entertained all day. It’s the least I can do.”

I watched, half in shock, half in admiration as he took all three dresses to the counter, handing over his card with a charming smile. The shopkeeper, a kindly older woman with a twinkle in her eye, rang up the total, her knowing smile suggesting she’d seen this kind of gesture before.

“Oscar, you’re ridiculous,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice light but unable to fully hide how touched I was. “But... thank you.”

He handed me the bags with a wink, his fingers lingering against mine for just a second longer than necessary. “You’re welcome. And besides, now I get to see you in all three. Totally worth it.”

I laughed, feeling the weight of the dresses in my hands and the warmth of Oscar’s gesture settle in my chest. It was more than just a shopping trip—it was another shared moment, another flirty, unplanned adventure that made everything feel a little more magical.

“You really are something else, you know that?” I said, shaking my head but smiling all the same.

Oscar grinned, stepping closer as we made our way out of the boutique. “Yeah, but I’m your something else. And I think that’s working out pretty well.”

As we stepped out of the boutique and back into the bustling market, I felt the weight of Oscar’s generosity with every step, the boutique bags brushing against my legs. It was more than just the dresses; it was the way he effortlessly turned a simple shopping trip into something memorable, something that lingered in the air between us like an unspoken promise.

I tried to brush off the fluttery feeling that had settled in my chest, but it was no use. This thing with Oscar—it was different from anything I’d ever known. I’d had my share of flings before, little sparks that fizzled out as quickly as they began. Those past connections had always felt manageable, easy to keep at arm’s length. But with Oscar, nothing felt sensible anymore. The boundaries I’d set for myself, the rules I used to follow, they all seemed to blur in his presence.

Every time I looked at him, it was like the ground had shifted beneath me.

The truth of it all was incomprehensible, a quiet realization that settled in as we strolled through the market together.

I glanced at him, watching the way he moved with such easy confidence, the way he could make a simple afternoon feel like an adventure. It was unsettling, exhilarating, and it was all him.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled with a playful intensity, his voice dipping into that teasing, confident tone that always sent my heart racing. “Just so you know,” he murmured, leaning in closer, “if you keep looking at me like that, I won’t have a choice but to make you lay all your love on me.”

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, caught between the thrill of his words and the undeniable pull that kept drawing us closer. “Is that a challenge?” I shot back, my smile betraying the flutter of excitement I couldn’t quite hide.

Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb tracing a light, teasing line along my wrist. “Not a challenge, sweetheart—just a promise.”

I stood there, momentarily stunned by the warmth of his words, feeling the electricity of the moment crackle between us. Before I could even think to respond, Oscar reached out casually and took the shopping bags from my hands, his movements smooth and effortless. It was such a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes—his natural ease, the way he so confidently stepped in without asking, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey,” I protested lightly, reaching to take them back, but he just shook his head, flashing me that boyish, infuriatingly charming smile.

“I’ve got it,” he said, his tone light but firm, like there was no room for argument. “Besides, it’s only fair. You did all the hard work trying them on. I’m just here to look pretty and carry the bags.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, sure. Because that was so exhausting for you.”

Oscar shrugged, adjusting the bags in his hands as if they weighed nothing. “Hey, I’m just doing my part. You get to rock the dresses, and I get to be the guy who made you smile today. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

Oscar glanced over, catching my gaze, and his smile softened. “I mean it, you know. You look amazing. And I’m glad you let me do this,” he said, giving the bags a little lift as if to emphasize his point.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, the sincerity in my voice matching the look in his eyes. “Not just for the dresses, but… for today.”

He winked, nudging me lightly with his shoulder as we continued down the cobblestone street. “Anytime. And hey, just remember—you don’t have to lay all your love on me. But I’m here, just in case you feel like it.”

We regrouped with the rest of the crew at a quaint, sun-soaked café nestled on a side street, its tiny tables spilling out onto the cobblestones under the shade of a vine-draped pergola. The café looked like it had been plucked straight from a movie set—warm, rustic, and effortlessly charming, with mismatched chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus propped against the stone walls. Mae, Hattie, and Edie were already seated, chattering animatedly over a pitcher of iced tea, the condensation pooling lazily on the table in the afternoon heat.

“There you are,” Mae called out, waving dramatically as we approached. “We were about to send out a search party. Or, you know, just assume you two were off kissing ass and making out somewhere.”

Oscar chuckled, pulling out a chair for me with a gallant flourish before dropping into the seat next to mine. “Who, us? We’d never. Just two innocent tourists enjoying the sights,” he said with mock innocence, shooting me a playful side-eye that made my heart do a little flip.

Hattie leaned forward, smirking as she sipped her drink. “Innocent, huh? I don’t know, Oscar. The way you two keep disappearing, it’s so suspicious from my point of view.”

Edie snorted, pushing a basket of fresh bread toward us. “Yeah, and we’re all just here for the free show. So, did you buy out the whole boutique, or was it just a private shopping spree for two?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Very funny. It was strictly a ‘window shopping with a side of unsolicited fashion advice’ kind of trip.” I shot Oscar a look, remembering how he’d nudged me into trying on almost everything in the shop.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for knowing what looks good. And hey, she made it easy.”

Mae scoffed, breaking off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “Easy? Oscar, the way you two were eyeing each other, I’m surprised we didn’t walk in on a full-blown fashion montage. Music and all.”

Oscar raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? She makes everything look good.”

I felt my cheeks warm under his praise, and I tried to keep my composure as I reached for a glass of water. “Don’t encourage him,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing as a smile crept onto my lips. “He’s already got enough of an ego without you guys cheering him on.”

Edie chuckled, nudging Mae. “See? I told you. They’re basically one flirty comment away from starring in their own rom-com.”

Oscar shot Edie a mock glare, then turned back to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, if this is a rom-com, then I guess that makes you the leading lady,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasing, flirty tone that never failed to make my heart skip.

"Your shit is so corny dude, lighten the fuck up," Edie sighed, burying her head in her palms. Mae slapped her head, giggling furiously.

I snorted, grabbing a menu and pretending to study it intently. “Great, then I demand script approval. No more surprise elbow attacks, and definitely no scenes where I have to chase you down a street.”

As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”

“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”

“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”

“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”

“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”

As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”

“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.

Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”

We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.

“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.

“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.

As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”

“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”

“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”

“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”

“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”

As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”

“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.

Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”

We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.

“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.

“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.

But then the waiter’s expression shifted to one of realization. “Um, we actually ran out of the chef’s special a few minutes ago. Would you like to choose something else?”

Hattie’s face fell. “Oh no! That was the one thing I was really looking forward to!”

Oscar glanced at Hattie, his brow furrowing as he sensed her disappointment. “Hey, how about we order a few extra baklava? They’ll definitely lift your spirits, and we can make a little baklava party.”

“Yeah, and I’ll swap you half my spanakopita if you want,” I offered, trying to ease the mood.

“See? Look at that! A culinary compromise,” Oscar said, grinning as he turned back to the waiter. “So, that’s two spanakopita, three baklava, and Hattie, what would you like instead of the special?”

“Uh… I’ll take the Greek salad,” Hattie said, her smile returning. “And I’ll make sure to save a bite for you, Oscar.”

“Perfect!” Oscar declared, a playful glint in his eye. “Just be sure it’s not the size of a small planet.”

Just then, Mae reached for the pitcher of iced tea but knocked over her cup of water instead, sending it cascading across the table. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, grabbing napkins in a panic.

“Mae!” Edie laughed, trying to help. “You just wanted a splash of drama, didn’t you?”

Hattie giggled as she handed Mae more napkins. “Looks like you’re creating your own little water feature over here.”

Oscar, ever the quick thinker, grabbed a few napkins and leaned in, grinning. “Don’t worry, Mae. You’re not the first one to bring a bit of chaos to the table. Just think of it as adding a little flavor to our meal.”

"Oscar don't even," Mae rolled her eyes. "You're so bloody pasty and white you even if I added seasoning to your water you wouldn't taste any difference."

The group erupted into laughter, and Oscar feigned shock, putting a hand over his heart. “Pasty? I’ll have you know I’m just ‘lightly seasoned,’ thank you very much.”

At that moment, I took a sip of water, and his ridiculous remark caught me off guard. I choked on the cool liquid, my eyes widening in surprise. The refreshing taste turned into a near disaster as I fought to keep it all down. I felt the water bubble up in my throat, and for a split second, I was convinced I might just spray it all over the table.

My cheeks flushed as I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the urge to burst into laughter or worse, make a total mess. I managed to swallow just in time, but I couldn't help the splutter that escaped, sending a small splash of water onto the table.

“Whoa! Are you alright?” Edie leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern and amusement.

“Yeah, just… almost became a fountain,” I gasped, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Thanks to you, Oscar.”

He leaned back, hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the chaos. “I’m just here for the entertainment! Didn’t mean to turn you into a water feature.”

“To be fair Osc, you're more like ‘extra bland,’” Edie chimed in, grinning as she took a sip of her tea. “You’re practically a walking Greek salad without the dressing.”

“I think that just made it worse,” I added, trying to contain my giggles.

Oscar laughed along, clearly unfazed. “Well, someone has to be the contrast in this colorful group. I’m here to balance out all this vibrant energy.”

“Right, because we definitely need someone to remind us of a plain piece of pita bread,” Hattie teased.

“Hey, I’m the life of the party!” Oscar shot back, leaning in closer to me. “And let’s be honest, without my charisma, who would keep the chaos in check? You all would be lost.”

As the laughter faded, we savored the last bites of our meal. The moussaka was rich and savory, the spanakopita perfectly flaky, and the baklava—a sweet ending that left us all satisfied. I leaned back in my chair, a contented sigh escaping my lips. “That was honestly one of the best meals I’ve had in ages.”

“Agreed!” Mae chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I could eat Greek food every day.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of keeping the fun going, I heard there’s a great nightclub nearby. We should totally check it out!”

Hattie perked up, clearly intrigued. “Oh, that could be fun! I’m in!”

Mae’s expression shifted, disappointment washing over her. “I can’t go,” she said, her voice dropping. “I’m still underage.”

Edie looked at Mae sympathetically. “That really sucks. But hey, we can still hang out! I’ll stay with you.”

Mae’s frown softened slightly at Edie’s reassurance. “Yeah, that could be nice. Thanks, Edie.”

Oscar turned to me, his grin widening. “So, what do you say? A little nighttime adventure? Just you, me, and Hattie tearing up the dance floor?”

I met his gaze, the thrill of spontaneity igniting in my chest. “Count me in.”

“Alright, then! Let’s make this night unforgettable!” he declared, excitement bubbling in his voice.

“Ain’t nobody wants to see you dance, white boy,” Edie rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Oscar feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Excuse me? My moves are legendary!”

“Legendary at what? Scaring away everyone on the dance floor?” Edie shot back, laughter lighting up her eyes.

“Hey, I’ll have you know my dancing is an art form!” Oscar retorted, grinning widely. “I just need the right audience.”

"I can never argue with you Osc," Edie shook her head.

As we stood up to leave, I glanced back at Mae and Edie, who exchanged a knowing smile. It was clear they would have their own fun together. I felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as I stepped outside, the warm evening air wrapping around us like a promise of adventure.

With Oscar and Hattie by my side, I felt ready to dive into whatever the night had in store.

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author's note: a double update for my lovelies, so sorry i didn't update on sunday <3, i hope you enjoy chapters 5 and 6!!

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05: Caffeine, Clem, and Capital-L Crushes

I was running on exactly four hours of sleep, and every yawn felt like my body’s way of scolding me for staying up way too late dissecting every little detail of my night with Oscar. Two hours on FaceTime with Clementine had somehow turned into a caffeine-fueled debriefing session, complete with dramatic reenactments, wild theories, and far too much giggling for someone who was supposed to be getting some rest.

Clementine had demanded every detail, leaning into the camera with wide, eager eyes, dissecting each word, each touch, like she was decoding the plot of a blockbuster rom-com. I’d found myself animatedly recounting every flirty remark and lingering glance, my voice climbing higher with each retelling, only for Clem to gasp and fan herself like we were living in some Victorian romance.

The more we talked, the more the night felt surreal—a blur of sun-soaked moments and teasing exchanges that played on a loop in my mind. I’d lost track of how many times Clem had paused to remind me, “Babe, he’s into you. Like, capital-L into you.” Each time, I’d try to protest, but the undeniable flutter in my chest always betrayed me. By the time we’d finally hung up, my cheeks were aching from smiling, and the adrenaline from our impromptu therapy session had me buzzing long after I’d collapsed into bed.

I could still hear Clem’s voice echoing in my head:

“I’m telling you, this is a Hallmark movie in the making, and you’re the main character. The Oscar Romance Special is about to hit season two.”

I’d rolled my eyes at the time, but now, dragging myself out of bed with a sleepy groan, I couldn’t stop replaying every flirty line, every shared smile, every moment that had made the night feel like something more.

The minute I’d crawled under the covers last night, I should have fallen straight into a blissful, uninterrupted sleep. But instead, I’d tossed and turned, Oscar’s voice running laps in my head, every cheeky grin and lingering touch replaying like my brain had hit the “rewind” button on the best parts of the day. And once Clem got wind of it, there was no way she was going to let me sleep without a full-blown breakdown of every micro-detail.

“It’s the way he looked at you when you were talking about chicken fights,” Clem had mused, eyes wide as if she were watching a thriller unfold. “Like you were the only person who’d ever said something even remotely interesting.”

I’d laughed, brushing it off, but the truth was, I’d noticed it too. The way Oscar’s gaze would linger, how his playful teasing had just the slightest undercurrent of something deeper.

We’d joked, sure—but every joke felt like it was skirting around something bigger, something neither of us were quite ready to name. And when I’d finally tried to put it into words, Clem had been ready with her own dramatic commentary, as usual.

“So he’s a Formula One driver, he’s charming, and he looks at you like you hung the moon with the flick of a finger. Babe, if you don’t lock in right now and lock that down, I’m coming over there myself to knock some sense into you.” She’d laughed with such glee and enthusiasm, but the teasing was laced with genuine excitement, and it had fueled my own sleepless spiral long after we’d said goodnight.

I’d tossed and turned for hours, replaying every moment in my head like it was some kind of twisted highlight reel. The way Oscar’s voice had dropped when he talked about his life on the track, the lingering touches that made my heart race, and that look—God, that look—like I was the only person in the world who mattered. Clem was right; it was hard not to get swept up in it, to not feel like the universe had handed me some ridiculous, too-good-to-be-true script of a romance movie. But as much as my heart was screaming at me to dive headfirst, my mind was busy throwing up every possible reason to pump the brakes.

Now, sunlight was streaming through my window, mercilessly bright, as I trudged to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in a vain attempt to wake up. My reflection stared back at me, hair sticking out in every direction, dark circles under my eyes that practically screamed, You should have gone to bed sooner. But my mind was still buzzing, caught somewhere between the thrill of last night and the anxiety of what came next.

I brushed my teeth absentmindedly, trying to scrub away the exhaustion and the lingering taste of late-night anxiety. But every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that beach, Oscar’s teasing grin etched into my memory like a permanent fixture. It wasn’t just the flirting or the way he’d pulled me close; it was the way he’d made me feel seen, like all the walls I’d put up to protect myself had been effortlessly dismantled in a single night.

I leaned against the sink, sighing heavily. “Get it together,” I mumbled to my reflection. “He’s just a guy.” But even as I said it, the words felt hollow, lacking the conviction I so desperately needed. Because deep down, I knew Oscar was not just any guy. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to stick to the safety of denial.

My phone buzzed on the counter, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Clem, her timing impeccable as always:

Clem: morning, lovebird! dream of your racer boy? 😘

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Me: morning. and no, i dreamt of sleep deprivation, thanks.

Clem: liesss girl liesss, i can see you RIGHT now in my mind. you’re probably blushing just thinking about him right now.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and, sure enough, the telltale warmth was already creeping up my cheeks. Damn it, Clem. She knew me too well.

Me: oh my god, clem. you’re like a psychic stalker. can’t a girl have some peace?

Clem: peace? honey, you signed up for the drama package the moment you met him. so spill, what’s the plan? are you gonna ride this love rollercoaster or what?

And, damn her, she was right. I tossed my phone onto the wooden dresser, groaning. Everything felt too raw, too immediate. It wasn’t like me to get this twisted up over a guy, but there was something about Oscar—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on—that made my usual cool detachment completely useless.

I splashed my face one more time, hoping the cold water would snap me out of my reverie, but it was no use. The memory of Oscar’s easy laugh, his warm touch, and that sincere, almost vulnerable side he’d let slip through lingered like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. And the worst part? A small, stubborn part of me didn’t want it to go away.

As I ran a brush through my tangled hair, I caught myself staring at the mirror, silently wishing for answers. What was I supposed to do now? Lean in and see where this crazy, unexpected thing with Oscar could go, or protect myself and pull back before things got messy? Either way, I was in uncharted territory, and the thought of navigating it without screwing everything up seemed both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Guess I’m in it now,” I muttered to my reflection, feeling the weight of the decision resting heavily on my shoulders. Because whatever happened next, there was no going back to before.

Clem: you better not chicken out now. i swear, if you start overthinking this, i’ll fly over there myself and push you into his arms.

Me: so violent, hehe.

Me: but thanks for the pep talk, dr. phil. ilysmmm

Clem: ilysm booo! you know it. and hey, you’ve got this. worst case? you get a story to laugh about later. best case? you get a hot f1 boyfriend. seems like a win-win to me.

I laughed, shaking my head as I set my phone down. Clem’s relentless optimism was a lifeline, even when she was half-joking. I wasn’t sure which possibility scared me more—letting this thing with Oscar fizzle out into a ‘remember when’ or diving in headfirst and risking everything.

I threw on my seafoam green strapless dress, the one with the ruched bodice that hugged my waist just right and flowed into a ruffled hem. It was the perfect mix of casual and effortlessly chic, capturing that laid-back Mediterranean vibe I’d always admired but never quite pulled off until now. The soft pastel green felt fresh and summery, and as I adjusted the fabric, I couldn’t help but feel a little more put together than usual.

To complete the look, I fastened my chunky gold chain necklace, adorned with oversized sea-themed charms—starfish, shells, and other ocean treasures that jingled softly with every movement. It was bold, a little gaudy maybe, but it felt right, like an unapologetic nod to the seaside setting we were in. Matching gold earrings dangled from my ears, catching the morning light, and I stacked a few gold bangles on my wrists for good measure. The jewelry was heavy, warm against my skin, but it grounded me, giving me a little boost of confidence as I prepared to face whatever this day would bring.

I took one last glance in the mirror, adjusting the loose waves in my hair and making sure the necklace lay just right. There was something about the way the outfit came together that made me feel a little bolder, like I was dressing not just for breakfast, but for the possibility of whatever—or whoever—came next.

Even if I felt nervous as hell and quite possibly so very close to the edge, I would make sure no one could see it (telling myself lies again but I digress).

I needed to look hot. Fucking impeccable.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone again, typing out a final message to Clem:

Me: okay, okay. i’m going. no more hiding. and if i trip over my words like a fool, that’s on you.

Clem: that’s my girl! go get your man.

With Clem’s words echoing in my head, I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed downstairs, nerves fluttering in my stomach like restless butterflies. The scent of breakfast hit me as soon as I reached the bottom step—freshly brewed coffee, the crisp aroma of toast, and something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. It was a comforting mix, and it tugged at the edges of my anxiety, coaxing me forward.

The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, casting a golden glow over the bustling scene. Mae, with her short hair tousled in that effortlessly cool way only she could pull off, was dressed in an oversized graphic tee and a pair of tiny denim shorts, her legs stretched out as she lounged on the stool, half-distracted by whatever was on her screen. A few bracelets jingled on her wrist as she absentmindedly scrolled, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic comment that made the others laugh.

Hattie, ever the organized one, was moving around with purpose, her damp curls pulled back into a messy bun that still somehow looked put-together. She wore a light blue tank top that matched her eyes and high-waisted linen pants that billowed slightly as she moved, the kind of outfit that screamed effortless summer chic. She balanced a stack of mismatched plates on one hip, arranging them on the table with precision, her expression a mix of focus and amusement as she chimed in on Mae’s snarky commentary.

Edie, the youngest but certainly not the quietest, was manning the stove with the confidence of someone who had taken on the role of breakfast chef many times before. Her hair was pulled into two loose braids, little wisps escaping around her face as she flipped pancakes with practiced ease. She wore a sunflower-yellow sundress that brightened the room even more, the fabric swishing around her knees as she moved. A slight dusting of flour clung to her hands, and there was a faint smear of batter on her cheek, giving her an endearing, carefree look.

The kitchen smelled heavenly—warm, sweet, and buttery—with the faintest hint of vanilla wafting from Edie’s pancake masterpiece. Mae’s playlist was faintly audible, playing some indie pop tune that filled the gaps in their conversation and set an upbeat mood. It was the kind of scene that felt both chaotic and comforting, each of the sisters contributing to the lively morning energy in their own way.

“Morning!” Mae chirped, barely glancing up from her screen but still managing to sound chipper. “You’re up early. Couldn’t stay away from us, huh?”

“Morning,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light and casual. “Smells amazing in here.”

“Edie’s specialty,” Hattie said with a grin, sliding a stack of pancakes onto the table. “She’s got this whole breakfast chef thing down to an art.”

Edie turned, waving the spatula in a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week. Literally.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, taking a seat across from Mae. “Well, lucky us. I’m definitely not complaining.”

Mae finally looked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, did you sleep well? You know, after your little moonlit stroll last night?”

I felt my cheeks heat up instantly, and I reached for a mug to hide my flustered expression. “Yeah, fine. Just… normal.” I took a sip, hoping the coffee would ground me, but all it did was make me more aware of how on edge I was.

Hattie exchanged a knowing look with Mae, then turned to me with a playful smile. “You guys were out there for a while. I half expected to hear the soundtrack of a rom-com playing in the background.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no malice in it—just the familiar tug of embarrassment. “You guys are impossible, you know that?”

Edie laughed, flipping another pancake. “Oh, we know. But you love it.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I said, trying to keep my voice light as I picked at a piece of toast. The truth was, I didn’t mind their teasing. In fact, their relentless ribbing was almost comforting, like being folded into a dynamic I didn’t know I needed.

“Anyway,” Mae continued, dragging out the word as if savoring the moment, “Oscar’s still asleep. Guess all that romantic strolling wore him out.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and I choked on my coffee, trying to keep my composure.

“Mae, please,” I said, laughing despite myself. “I don’t need a play-by-play of his morning routine.”

Edie set down the last plate of pancakes and took a seat, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on. It’s just so fun watching you squirm.”

“Yeah, and you’re kind of the only normal one here,” Hattie added, piling syrup onto her plate. “Oscar’s always either being overly confident or sulking about something. It’s refreshing to have someone who’s, you know, sane.”

I smiled, feeling that familiar warmth of being welcomed, even if it came wrapped in layers of teasing. “Well, thanks, I guess? I’ll take being the sane one if it means I get pancakes.”

Hattie passed me the syrup, her grin wide. “Deal. But don’t think that gets you off the hook. We’re all dying to know—what’s really going on with you and Oscar?”

I hesitated, suddenly aware of how much their playful scrutiny meant to me. I didn’t want to let them down, but I also wasn’t ready to admit to anything that I hadn’t even figured out myself. “Honestly?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m not sure. But I think that’s okay. We’re just… figuring it out.”

Mae nodded, surprisingly earnest. “Hey, no pressure. Just enjoy it. Life’s too short to overthink everything.”

I glanced at her, surprised by the sudden shift from teasing to sincerity. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, feeling a little more settled. “I think I will.”

Mae’s expression softened, and she set her phone down, propping her chin on her hand as she watched me. “Seriously, though, don’t stress about it. If anyone can handle the chaos that is Oscar, it’s you. Plus, he’s not so bad once you get used to the terrible jokes and the occasional bouts of bravado.”

Hattie chuckled, sliding into her seat and pouring herself a glass of orange juice. “And the dramatic speeches,” she added, winking at me. “He’s got a flair for making everything sound like it’s life or death, but really, he’s just a softie at heart.”

Edie finally turned off the stove, setting a towering plate of pancakes on the table with a triumphant grin. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, giving me a conspiratorial smile as she sat down. “Just roll with it. That’s what we do.”

Their encouragement warmed me more than I expected, and for a moment, I felt like I was being let in on a secret, one that went beyond the lighthearted teasing and easy banter. It was clear that beneath all the jokes, there was a genuine care for their brother—a kind of protective, loving acceptance that made me feel a little less alone in navigating this new territory with him.

I sat down, reaching for a pancake and letting their words sink in. The idea of just enjoying the moment, of not overanalyzing every tiny interaction, felt both freeing and slightly terrifying. But sitting here, surrounded by this noisy, welcoming group, it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could let go a little. I could let myself lean into the unexpected without the weight of expectations dragging me down.

Mae poured herself another cup of coffee, her smile turning back into her usual mischievous smirk. “And hey, if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have some great stories. Like, ‘Remember that summer I got tangled up with a race car driver and his three crazy sisters?’ It’s all part of the adventure.”

I laughed, shaking my head at Mae’s dramatics. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, taking a bite of my pancake, the sweetness filling my senses. “But for now, I think I’ll just enjoy breakfast and see where the day takes me.”

Hattie raised her glass in a mock toast. “To not overthinking and just going with the flow,” she declared, her eyes sparkling with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how to live in the moment.

Edie joined in, clinking her glass with Hattie’s and then mine. “And to great company,” she added, beaming as she dug into her stack of pancakes.

Edie took a sip of her juice, then leaned forward, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “So, we got all wrapped up in Oscar’s big secret yesterday, but what about you? We didn’t really get to know much about the mystery girl who’s apparently brave enough to keep up with our brother.”

I smiled, feeling the spotlight shift to me as all three sisters turned their attention my way. “Oh, nothing too dramatic,” I started, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m twenty-one, a senior at George Washington University in DC.”

Hattie’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ooh, DC! The nation’s capital, right? I’ve always wanted to go. It’s like, politics central, isn’t it?”

I nodded, laughing at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s a pretty unique place. It’s not a state, but it likes to think it’s important enough to be one. You know, home of the White House, Congress, and a whole lot of people in suits pretending they know how to run the country.”

Mae snorted into her coffee. “So basically, it’s one giant power trip?”

“Pretty much,” I grinned. “But it’s also got this amazing mix of history and culture. There are monuments and museums on every corner, and sometimes it feels like you can’t throw a rock without hitting some important landmark. It’s kind of like living in a history book—except with more Starbucks.”

Hattie laughed. “And you’re majoring in what? Political stuff, I’m guessing?”

“Close,” I said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. “I’m majoring in International Relations. It’s like political science, but with more foreign countries, diplomacy, and trying to figure out why world leaders can’t just get along. Basically, I’m training to be the world’s most overqualified peacekeeper or, you know, a very stressed-out diplomat.”

Edie nodded, clearly impressed. “That sounds really cool, though. And probably way over my head. So what do you do for fun in a city full of politicians?”

“Well,” I said, a little shy but pleased they were interested, “when I’m not drowning in textbooks, I actually love to photograph the city. There’s something about the mix of old architecture and modern chaos that just... speaks to me, I guess. Plus, it’s an easy way to escape all the academic stuff and just focus on something beautiful.”

Mae’s ears perked up. “Wait, so you’re a photographer? That’s awesome! Do you post your stuff anywhere?”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit bashful. “Yeah, I have an Instagram account where I share my photos. It’s kind of taken off a little bit.”

Hattie immediately pulled out her phone, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s your handle? I wanna see!”

I told them my Instagram username, and within seconds, they were scrolling through my feed, their faces lighting up with interest as they took in my shots of cityscapes, moody portraits, and candid street moments.

“Whoa, you’ve got 32.9K followers?” Edie exclaimed, holding up her phone to show the impressive number. “You’re basically Instagram famous! And these photos are gorgeous.”

Mae looked up, clearly impressed. “I’m not even surprised. You’ve got an eye, girl. These shots are like... magazine-level good. I feel like I’m seeing DC through a totally different lens.”

I blushed, feeling a mix of pride and humility. “Thanks, it’s kind of my little escape. I just love capturing the city’s vibe—the people, the little hidden corners, the chaos and calm all mixed together. I never expected it to turn into something people would actually follow.”

Hattie scrolled through a few more pictures, pausing on one of a sunlit Washington Monument framed by cherry blossoms. “I get it. This is art, seriously. And now I’m kind of jealous of your life. You get to live in this cool place, study fascinating stuff, and take amazing photos on the side. That’s like, triple threat territory.”

Hattie leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know, I’ve never even been to DC. I mean, we’ve talked about going, but somehow we always end up at the beach or stuck on some last-minute road trip that Dad plans.”

Mae laughed, nodding. “Yeah, because why visit the nation’s capital when you can get lost in the middle of nowhere and argue over gas station snacks, right?”

Edie snorted. “Honestly, the closest we’ve been to DC is watching reruns of House of Cards and pretending we understand politics.”

Mae threw her hands up dramatically. “I swear, we’re missing out. I mean, we’ve got to see all those marble buildings and secret government stuff, right? What’s it like, just casually living near a bunch of old guys in suits who make all the rules?”

I laughed, enjoying their banter. “Honestly? It’s a mix. On one hand, you’ve got all these important people running around pretending they’re changing the world. On the other, it’s just a bunch of monuments, overpriced coffee shops, and tourists blocking the sidewalks with selfie sticks.”

Hattie giggled. “Wow, it sounds like such a glamorous place. Like New York, but with more government scandals and fewer Broadway shows.”

Edie nodded, trying to look serious but failing miserably. “I feel like we’d be kicked out of DC within a day. One of us would probably start an argument with a senator over parking spaces, and Mae would definitely try to sneak into the Capitol just to see if it’s as dramatic as the movies.”

Mae pointed at Edie, pretending to be offended. “Hey, I’m not that reckless. But, like, if we do go, I’m definitely hitting up those underground tunnels. You know they’ve got to be hiding some cool spy stuff down there.”

I shook my head, laughing at the absurdity. “Yeah, I’m not sure you guys would last. You’d probably spend the whole trip critiquing the statues or getting lost in the Smithsonian.”

Mae shrugged, grinning. “Hey, we’re up for the challenge. Just promise to be our tour guide when we eventually decide to grace DC with our presence. We’ll bring the chaos, and you bring the camera.”

“Deal,” I said, raising my glass in mock seriousness. “Just don’t blame me when you get kicked out of a museum for climbing on the exhibits.”

Mae nodded in agreement, setting her phone down. “Yeah, honestly, I’m just glad we finally got to hear your side. And hey, now we know that if you ever get sick of Oscar, you’ve got a whole city full of potential new admirers.”

I laughed, feeling a warm sense of belonging settle over me. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick around for a bit. I’m kind of liking where I am right now.”

The girls laughed, and Hattie leaned in, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Wait wait wait I still have a few questions. You must have some wild stories. I mean, it’s DC—you’re right in the middle of all the action!”

I smiled, settling into the moment. “It’s a lot of things—hectic, beautiful, sometimes frustrating, but never boring. I love how there’s always something happening, whether it’s a protest down on the National Mall or a pop-up art exhibit in some random alley. There’s this constant energy, like everyone’s in a rush but also living in this incredible historic moment all the time.”

Edie nodded, fascinated. “And the photography thing—how do you even capture all of that? Like, do you just walk around with your camera 24/7?”

I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Pretty much. I like to just wander around and see where the day takes me. You’d be surprised how many hidden gems there are—little parks tucked between office buildings, street musicians who are just as talented as anyone on stage. Plus, it’s fun capturing the contrasts—the shiny government buildings and the raw, gritty parts that make the city feel real.”

Mae smiled, clearly impressed. “Okay, so now you’re officially our go-to when we make it to DC. We’ll get the full insider experience—no boring tourist traps.”

I opened my mouth to agree when suddenly, a familiar arm draped around my shoulder, pulling me into a warm side hug. “Speaking of insider experiences,” Oscar’s voice broke in, far too close to my ear. “Are you telling them about your little secret photo spots? Or do I get to be the first one you show around?”

Startled, I jumped and let out a sharp yelp, my heart leaping into my throat. Without thinking, my elbow shot backward, driven by pure instinct and a jolt of adrenaline. The impact was immediate—I felt my elbow connect with something firm and unyielding. It wasn’t the soft thud of bumping into furniture or the awkward smack of knocking into someone’s arm. No, this was solid, unmistakably muscular. My elbow sank briefly against the defined ridges of Oscar’s abs, and I could feel the tension of his muscles bracing under the sudden, unexpected blow.

Oscar let out a strangled, surprised grunt, the sound half-laugh, half-pained exhale, as he stumbled backward. His expression morphed from shock to mock agony as he clutched his side dramatically, doubling over with a theatrical gasp.

“Ow! Holy—” he managed between strained breaths, his free hand pressed firmly against his stomach as if he’d just taken a punch straight out of a boxing ring. He staggered back a step, his body curling protectively around the spot where my elbow had connected, and for a split second, I worried I might’ve actually hurt him.

But Oscar’s over-the-top reaction was more comedic than anything else. He leaned against the counter, groaning with exaggerated flair, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were the star of his own melodramatic performance. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and even in his mock pain, he couldn’t quite hide the playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’ve got some serious power in that elbow,” he wheezed, still clutching his side but peeking up at me with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “What have you been eating? Steel oats? Protein shakes? Because, damn, you’ve got a weapon there.”

“Oh my god!” I gasped, half mortified, half laughing as Oscar pretended to lurch dramatically against the counter. “You scared the hell out of me! Why are you sneaking up on people?”

Oscar winced playfully, rubbing his abs where I’d jabbed him. “Damn, remind me never to surprise you again. You’ve got an elbow like a linebacker.” He laughed, but his eyes were twinkling, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d caused.

I sat there, caught between concern and stifled laughter, my face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, half-panicked, half-giggling as I reached out, instinctively trying to pat his shoulder as if that would somehow ease the pain. “I didn’t mean to! You just—scared me, and I—I panicked!”

Oscar straightened slightly, still rubbing his abs where I’d jabbed him, his expression teetering between pain and mischief. “I thought I was gonna end up on the floor.” He let out a breathless laugh, eyes sparkling despite his over-the-top suffering. “You’ve got some serious reflexes.”

I glanced down, my gaze lingering on the spot where I’d made contact. Even through his t-shirt, I could feel the distinct firmness of his abs—hard as a rock, like something carved from stone rather than skin and muscle. It was like hitting a brick wall disguised as a human. My cheeks heated as the realization sunk in, and I quickly pulled my hand away, trying to mask my flustered reaction with an awkward laugh.

“Next time, announce yourself!” I shot back, still breathless from the sudden surge of adrenaline. “Or, you know, maybe just don’t sneak up on me when I’m in the middle of a conversation.”

Oscar straightened fully, his grin widening, and he offered me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Lesson learned. I’ll approach with caution—and maybe a helmet—next time.”

The girls burst into laughter, Mae doubling over as she clapped her hands. “Nice one, Oscar. Just try not to get yourself KO’d next time.”

Edie was practically crying with laughter, holding her stomach. “I’ve never seen anyone get taken out by a breakfast elbow before. That was amazing.”

Hattie chimed in, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oscar, you’ve got to work on your stealth skills. Or at least your reflexes. She got you good.”

I was still blushing, torn between embarrassment and pride at my unintentional takedown. “Maybe don’t sneak up on people who are talking about their city adventures,” I said, giving him a playful glare. “I almost knocked the wind out of you.”

Oscar straightened up, still rubbing his side but grinning like he’d just won a game he didn’t know he was playing. “Noted. I’ll keep my distance when you’re in storytelling mode—didn’t realize I’d need a bulletproof vest just to get your attention,” he teased, his voice laced with that familiar playful confidence. He gave me a mock bow, adding, “But hey, it’s not every day I get nearly floored by someone half my size. Impressive, really.”

Mae, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with wide-eyed amusement, chimed in, barely able to contain her laughter. “Honestly, I think you got off easy. If she can take you down with an elbow, just imagine what she could do with a roundhouse kick. You better stay on her good side.”

Hattie snorted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, Oscar, if she’d been holding a frying pan, you’d be out cold right now. I’d pay to see that fight.” She shot me a wink, clearly enjoying her brother’s over-the-top reaction. “Nice job, by the way. Most people just tell him to buzz off, but you? You went straight for the kill.”

I was still blushing, torn between embarrassment and a tiny bit of pride at my unintentional takedown. “Maybe don’t sneak up on people who are talking about their city adventures,” I said, giving him a playful glare.

Oscar chuckled, his grin never faltering. “Lesson learned. I’ll approach with a white flag next time.” He rubbed his abs one last time, his expression softening as he glanced at me. “But hey, consider me officially intrigued by DC and whatever other hidden skills you’ve got. Might have to keep my distance, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Edie was wiping away tears of laughter, her cheeks flushed from the hilarity. “This is officially the best breakfast we’ve had in ages. Who knew we’d get a free Oscar takedown with our pancakes?” She raised her glass in mock celebration. “To the unexpected and unintentional, but very satisfying, smackdown of the day!”

Oscar shot her a look of mock offense but couldn’t keep from laughing himself. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m the morning entertainment. But just you wait, I’ll get my revenge—when you least expect it.”

I smirked, still feeling the lingering tingle in my elbow and the rush of adrenaline from the whole absurd encounter. “I’ll be ready. But remember, sneak attacks don’t end well around here.”

Oscar held up his hands in surrender, the playful banter still dancing in his eyes. “Point taken. No more stealth moves—at least not without a warning. But hey,” he added, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper as he leaned in just a bit closer, “I guess that means I’ll just have to find new ways to get under your skin.”

His words sent a small thrill down my spine, the challenge hanging between us like an unspoken promise. It was impossible not to smile, the line between annoyance and attraction blurring further with every quip and every lingering look.

We all settled back around the table, the remnants of breakfast spread out like the aftermath of a lively party. Mae was still giggling into her juice, and Hattie was busy piling pancakes onto her plate, but the atmosphere was lighter now, filled with an easy camaraderie that made the whole morning feel like a scene out of a feel-good movie. I scooped up some scrambled eggs, trying to act casual, but every now and then, I’d catch Oscar sneaking a glance my way, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Pass the syrup?” Oscar asked, leaning in closer than necessary, his arm brushing against mine as he reached for the bottle. It was a small touch, barely noticeable, but it sent a little jolt through me, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes playfully.

“Careful,” I said, handing it over with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself with this dangerous syrup. It’s a real menace.”

Oscar grinned, pouring a generous amount onto his pancakes. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to handle it without getting taken out by a rogue condiment. But thanks for the concern.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she munched on her toast. “You two are like a sitcom. Seriously, how are we supposed to eat when it’s all banter and sneak attacks?”

Mae nodded in agreement, waving her fork in the air for emphasis. “Exactly. We need a warning before you two start up again. I almost choked on my juice.”

I laughed, grabbing another slice of fruit. “Don’t worry, we’ll try to keep the drama to a minimum. Breakfast is a sacred time, after all.”

Edie set down her fork, glancing at the clock on her phone. “Speaking of time, it’s still early enough that we could hit the market before it gets too hot. We need to grab some stuff for tonight anyway.”

Oscar perked up, leaning back in his chair. “The market sounds good. It’s not far, and we can get there before the sun decides to fry us alive. Plus, we can stock up on snacks. I’m thinking... fresh pastries, some local olives, maybe something sweet?”

Mae grinned, tapping her fingers on the table. “Count me in. I want to see what kind of cool stuff they have. And maybe pick up something to annoy Hattie. It’s like, a sibling rite of passage.”

Hattie rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Sure, Mae. I’ll make sure to keep you far away from anything that looks remotely like a musical instrument. I don’t need another round of impromptu concert performances.”

I glanced around the table, feeling a swell of excitement at the idea of exploring the local market with them. It was the kind of spontaneous plan that felt like the perfect way to spend the morning—just wandering around, sampling local food, and maybe picking up a few souvenirs. And, of course, the thought of more time spent with Oscar, in and out of playful jabs, wasn’t exactly unappealing.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, pushing back my plate and stretching my arms. “But we better go soon before it really heats up out there. I’m not trying to become a melted puddle on the sidewalk.”

Mae let out a dramatic groan, fanning herself with a napkin. “Seriously, I already feel like I’m halfway to becoming a human popsicle. Let’s move before I turn into a puddle of regrets.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he finished the last of his juice. “Don’t worry, Mae. We’ll keep you hydrated. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a portable fan to add to your collection of weird market finds.”

Mae shot him a playful glare. “I’m not the one who bought that weird wooden frog last time, Oscar. That was all you. But if I find a fan, I’m buying it. Consider it an investment in my survival.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, but if anyone finds a fan that also doubles as a weapon, I call dibs. You know, just in case I need to defend myself from any more surprise attacks.” He shot me a teasing look, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Edie laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin as she pushed her chair back. “Oscar, the day you need to defend yourself from anything other than your own bad decisions is the day we all need to start worrying.” She grabbed her sunglasses from the table, slipping them on with a flourish. “But I’ll keep an eye out for a fan-weapon hybrid. Seems like something that could really elevate your whole ‘I’m constantly under attack’ vibe.”

Oscar feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me, Edie. But you know what? I’ll take the fan and the survival bragging rights. And when we’re all sweating buckets, just remember who thought ahead.”

Hattie shook her head, tossing her empty juice cup in the trash. “Let’s just get to the market before you guys end up buying the weirdest stuff just for the sake of it. We’re here for essentials, remember?”

Mae snorted, throwing her arm around Hattie’s shoulders as they headed toward the door. “Speak for yourself, Hattie. Some of us are here for the thrill of the hunt. And maybe a sun hat that screams ‘I’m on vacation and I don’t care.’”

Oscar turned to me, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “What about you? Got any market goals today? Weird trinkets, secret weapon fans, or just here to keep me out of trouble?”

I pretended to consider it, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “I think my goal is to keep you in just the right amount of trouble. Can’t have you getting too comfortable.” I winked, enjoying the easy flow of our banter, the way it felt like slipping into a well-worn routine despite how new it all was.

Oscar laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a flutter through my chest. “Deal. I’ll keep it interesting. And if I find anything particularly ridiculous, you’ll be the first to know.”

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author's note: a double update for my lovelies, so sorry i didn't update on sunday <3, i hope you enjoy chapters 5 and 6!!

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