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The morning after felt like something out of a travel magazine: sun-drenched, salt-tinged, and lazy in the best way.
Julien was the first to wake, because of course she was. She'd claimed the best lounge chair before anyone else stumbled out of their rooms, sunglasses on, a pineapple smoothie in hand, and the day's itinerary open on her phone like a military commander planning soft chaos.
One by one, the rest emerged.
Luna floated out next in a gauzy cover-up, still brushing sleep from her lashes. Max followed her, shirtless and smug, already munching on mango slices like he'd conquered the fruit himself. Audrey and Aki came out holding hands, both in sunglasses and silence, clearly hungover in love or just hungover.
Addy and Monet were last.
They arrived together, sun-kissed and smiling, but with that unmistakable look of two people who'd taken their time getting out of bed. Addy's hair was damp and tied in a loose braid, Monet wore one of Addy's oversized white linen shirts — unbuttoned enough to be a statement.
Julien caught the vibe instantly and smirked. "Nice of you both to join the land of the living."
Monet didn't even pretend. "We were busy."
Luna raised a brow. "Doing what, exactly?"
Addy plucked a croissant from the basket and took a slow, deliberate bite. "Reconnecting."
Max choked on his mango.
Obie, who had been setting up a speaker with military precision, turned and said flatly, "Please. We're eating."
Aki, still half-asleep, muttered, "Is it too early for this?"
Audrey sipped her iced coffee and muttered, "It's never too early. It's just too early for them."
Julien clapped her hands. "Okay, okay — enough pillow talk. Today is fun day. We've got paddle boarding, local art markets, parasailing if you're feeling chaotic—"
"And a lunch picnic at that cove Luna found on Instagram," Luna added helpfully, stretching.
"Bless," Addy murmured. "I'm going to swim until my brain stops thinking."
Monet leaned into her with a private grin. "That would be a first."
Addy nudged her playfully. "Careful. I might drag you down with me."
"You already do," Monet said, half-teasing, half-sincere.
"Okay!" Julien called, louder. "Save the soft-core flirting for the ocean. Everyone — suits on, sunscreen up, and if I hear one complaint about sand in your shoes, you're getting left behind."
"Bold of you to assume I'm wearing shoes," Max said, already walking barefoot toward the beach.
Audrey groaned. "It's too early for barefoot commentary."
