u/QwenLucy

Chapter 05: Here

The noon sun beat down on the water park parking lot, turning the asphalt into a shimmering expanse of heat. James was already at the entrance, tank top stretched across his shoulders, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, talking to a security guard like they were old college friends.

 

Isabella broke into a run for the last twenty meters. Left me behind with the beach bag, the sunscreen, the flip-flops, and the backpack with towels.

 

"James!" Her voice sounded different. Lighter. Younger.

 

He turned, easy smile spreading, and opened his arms. Isabella walked into the embrace like she belonged there. When I finally arrived, sweating, breathing hard, James didn't even glance at me.

 

The guard opened a side door. We entered through the "VIP entrance," no line, no wait. Isabella looked at James like he'd invented water.

 

"I didn't know you had connections here," Isabella said.

 

"I dated the resort owner's daughter a few years back. Lot of the same staff still work here, and Mike's an old college friend." James clapped the guard on the shoulder.

 

"Wow, quite the ladykiller, aren't you?" The irony in her tone barely concealed the flirtation underneath

 

We walked past the main pool toward the lazy river entrance. A double tube sat at the launch point, wide enough for two.

 

Isabella was already seated in front, patting the space behind her. "Come on, James. I'll steer."

 

"No, no." He grinned, that predator's grin. "I steer from behind."

 

"Why are you going together?" The question came out of me before I could realise it.

 

"It's a lazy river, not a marriage contract. Relax." Isabella said already leaning back into position, already comfortable with the arrangement.

 

I stood there with the bags cutting into my shoulders while James settled in behind her, arms reaching around to grip the sides, Isabella leaned back against him, head almost on his shoulder, and laughed at something he whispered.

 

I was directed to a single tube. Basic. Functional. Alone.

 

The current took us. I followed, always those few meters behind, watching their backs disappear around the bends. Hearing her laugh, genuine and loud, echoing off the painted concrete walls. In the shallows, I could see James's hands adjusting Isabella's position, pulling her closer. "For safety," I could hear, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

 

At the exit, Isabella reached for his hand as she stood up. She didn't need the assistance, she can stand herself, but she took his hand anyway.

 

"Next," she said. Not a question.

 

The Tornado had a twenty-minute line snaking through the plaza. The college friend, Mike, led us through an emergency exit, metal stairs climbing to the launch platform. Isabella's eyes widened with each step, not from the height, from the access.

 

"You know everyone," she said, and it wasn't just observation. It was appreciation. Admiration.

 

"Useful skill," James said, like it was nothing. Like he hadn't engineered this moment, her reaction, the way she looked at him now.

 

At the top, Isabella peered down. The slide was steep, dark, water churning at the entrance.

 

"I don't know..." Her voice came out hesitant, but her eyes found James's with something that looked like challenge.

 

"Scared?" He smiled.

 

"A little."

 

"Hold on to me." He extended his hand. "I'll protect you."

 

She put her hand in his, let him pull her toward the double tube. Seated in front, him behind, arms around her before they even launched.

 

I stood on the platform. Watching.

 

"What about Peaboy?" Isabella asked, already settled, already smiling.

 

James didn't look at me. "He can't handle these things. Stay here, Peaboy. Hold the stuff."

 

The frustration was a physical thing, a pressure behind my sternum. I was meant to be on this vacation with her. I was meant to be the one she reached for, held onto, laughed with. Instead I stood alone holding beach bags while she descended into darkness with my high school bully, her screams of delight already echoing back up the tube before I'd even processed the abandonment.

 

They emerged at the bottom. Isabella was breathless, wet hair plastered to her face, makeup somehow still perfect. James climbed out first, extended his hand. She took it, let him pull her up, and didn't release his hand immediately.

 

"Again," she scream.

 

They went. Without asking, without warning, making their own plans while I watched from above.

 

The wave pool stretched out like an artificial ocean, mechanical waves rolling every fifteen minutes. James and Isabella waded to the deep end, where the waves br oke strongest. I stayed at the edge, water to my waist, where the waves were weakest, watching James "teach" Isabella to ride them. Hands on her waist, adjusting her stance. Her pretending not to understand, him repeating the lesson, touching more than necessary.

 

A wave came. Isabella stumbled, fell on purpose or not, and James caught her. Arms around her, she laughing, wet, against him.

 

I was so absorbed in the performance that I didn't see the next wave until it crashed over me. The sound of their laughter reached me underwater. When I surfaced, coughing, salt and chlorine burning my throat, James was pointing. Isabella covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes were laughing.

 

"Peaboy can't swim?" James asked, voice loaded with false concern.

 

"He can," Isabella said, still laughing. "He just can't stand up."

 

They laughed together. Another wave knocked me down. This time I didn't try to get up immediately. I stayed under, listening to the muffled sound of the world above, until my lungs forced me to surface.

 

The snack bar shade brought physical relief, no emotional relief. James and Isabella sat on the wooden bench, thighs touching. They sent me to the nearby market stall.

 

"Water," Isabella said, not looking at me.

 

"Snacks," James added, half-laughing at my face.

 

I went. When I returned, carrying bottles and wrapped sandwiches, I found them like this: Isabella reclined against James's shoulder, looking at his phone, laughing at something on the screen. His arm around her, one hand holding the phone, the other resting on her waist.

 

"What are you looking at?" My voice came out louder than intended.

 

Isabella finally looked at me. "Photos. James took some on the slide and the river."

 

"Two days of photos," James said, scrolling. "The aquarium yesterday, today here. You look incredible."

 

Isabella laughed, swatted his arm. "Stop."

 

"It's true. Look at this."

 

He showed her the screen. I saw from where I stood. Isabella at the lazy river exit, looking at the camera with that smile I recognized. The smile she used to give me. Now directed at James's lens, at James, while I was out of frame, holding bags.

Chapter 05: Here

The noon sun beat down on the water park parking lot, turning the asphalt into a shimmering expanse of heat. James was already at the entrance, tank top stretched across his shoulders, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, talking to a security guard like they were old college friends.

 

Isabella broke into a run for the last twenty meters. Left me behind with the beach bag, the sunscreen, the flip-flops, and the backpack with towels.

 

"James!" Her voice sounded different. Lighter. Younger.

 

He turned, easy smile spreading, and opened his arms. Isabella walked into the embrace like she belonged there. When I finally arrived, sweating, breathing hard, James didn't even glance at me.

 

The guard opened a side door. We entered through the "VIP entrance," no line, no wait. Isabella looked at James like he'd invented water.

 

"I didn't know you had connections here," Isabella said.

 

"I dated the resort owner's daughter a few years back. Lot of the same staff still work here, and Mike's an old college friend." James clapped the guard on the shoulder.

 

"Wow, quite the ladykiller, aren't you?" The irony in her tone barely concealed the flirtation underneath

 

We walked past the main pool toward the lazy river entrance. A double tube sat at the launch point, wide enough for two.

 

Isabella was already seated in front, patting the space behind her. "Come on, James. I'll steer."

 

"No, no." He grinned, that predator's grin. "I steer from behind."

 

"Why are you going together?" The question came out of me before I could realise it.

 

"It's a lazy river, not a marriage contract. Relax." Isabella said already leaning back into position, already comfortable with the arrangement.

 

I stood there with the bags cutting into my shoulders while James settled in behind her, arms reaching around to grip the sides, Isabella leaned back against him, head almost on his shoulder, and laughed at something he whispered.

 

I was directed to a single tube. Basic. Functional. Alone.

 

The current took us. I followed, always those few meters behind, watching their backs disappear around the bends. Hearing her laugh, genuine and loud, echoing off the painted concrete walls. In the shallows, I could see James's hands adjusting Isabella's position, pulling her closer. "For safety," I could hear, and she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

 

At the exit, Isabella reached for his hand as she stood up. She didn't need the assistance, she can stand herself, but she took his hand anyway.

 

"Next," she said. Not a question.

 

The Tornado had a twenty-minute line snaking through the plaza. The college friend, Mike, led us through an emergency exit, metal stairs climbing to the launch platform. Isabella's eyes widened with each step, not from the height, from the access.

 

"You know everyone," she said, and it wasn't just observation. It was appreciation. Admiration.

 

"Useful skill," James said, like it was nothing. Like he hadn't engineered this moment, her reaction, the way she looked at him now.

 

At the top, Isabella peered down. The slide was steep, dark, water churning at the entrance.

 

"I don't know..." Her voice came out hesitant, but her eyes found James's with something that looked like challenge.

 

"Scared?" He smiled.

 

"A little."

 

"Hold on to me." He extended his hand. "I'll protect you."

 

She put her hand in his, let him pull her toward the double tube. Seated in front, him behind, arms around her before they even launched.

 

I stood on the platform. Watching.

 

"What about Peaboy?" Isabella asked, already settled, already smiling.

 

James didn't look at me. "He can't handle these things. Stay here, Peaboy. Hold the stuff."

 

The frustration was a physical thing, a pressure behind my sternum. I was meant to be on this vacation with her. I was meant to be the one she reached for, held onto, laughed with. Instead I stood alone holding beach bags while she descended into darkness with my high school bully, her screams of delight already echoing back up the tube before I'd even processed the abandonment.

 

They emerged at the bottom. Isabella was breathless, wet hair plastered to her face, makeup somehow still perfect. James climbed out first, extended his hand. She took it, let him pull her up, and didn't release his hand immediately.

 

"Again," she scream.

 

They went. Without asking, without warning, making their own plans while I watched from above.

 

The wave pool stretched out like an artificial ocean, mechanical waves rolling every fifteen minutes. James and Isabella waded to the deep end, where the waves br oke strongest. I stayed at the edge, water to my waist, where the waves were weakest, watching James "teach" Isabella to ride them. Hands on her waist, adjusting her stance. Her pretending not to understand, him repeating the lesson, touching more than necessary.

 

A wave came. Isabella stumbled, fell on purpose or not, and James caught her. Arms around her, she laughing, wet, against him.

 

I was so absorbed in the performance that I didn't see the next wave until it crashed over me. The sound of their laughter reached me underwater. When I surfaced, coughing, salt and chlorine burning my throat, James was pointing. Isabella covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes were laughing.

 

"Peaboy can't swim?" James asked, voice loaded with false concern.

 

"He can," Isabella said, still laughing. "He just can't stand up."

 

They laughed together. Another wave knocked me down. This time I didn't try to get up immediately. I stayed under, listening to the muffled sound of the world above, until my lungs forced me to surface.

 

The snack bar shade brought physical relief, no emotional relief. James and Isabella sat on the wooden bench, thighs touching. They sent me to the nearby market stall.

 

"Water," Isabella said, not looking at me.

 

"Snacks," James added, half-laughing at my face.

 

I went. When I returned, carrying bottles and wrapped sandwiches, I found them like this: Isabella reclined against James's shoulder, looking at his phone, laughing at something on the screen. His arm around her, one hand holding the phone, the other resting on her waist.

 

"What are you looking at?" My voice came out louder than intended.

 

Isabella finally looked at me. "Photos. James took some on the slide and the river."

 

"Two days of photos," James said, scrolling. "The aquarium yesterday, today here. You look incredible."

 

Isabella laughed, swatted his arm. "Stop."

 

"It's true. Look at this."

 

He showed her the screen. I saw from where I stood. Isabella at the lazy river exit, looking at the camera with that smile I recognized. The smile she used to give me. Now directed at James's lens, at James, while I was out of frame, holding bags.

Chapter 04: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Isabella was sprawled across the hotel bed, her phone propped against a pillow, scrolling through photos from the aquarium. The room was dim, only the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across her skin. She had changed into a thin camisole and shorts, looking comfortable in a way that made me feel overdressed in my t-shirt and jeans.

 

I sat in the desk chair, supposedly checking my own phone, but really just trying to process the day. The shark. The keychain now hanging from my backpack by the door. The way Isabella had laughed when James applied sunscreen to her back, as if I weren't standing right there with the bottle she'd sent me to fetch.

 

Her phone rang.

 

Isabella's face transformed instantly, that genuine brightness that made my chest tighten with something I couldn't name. She tapped the screen and propped it up properly.

 

"Katie!" Her voice came out breathless, eager. "You have to see these photos."

 

"Hey gorgeous," Katie's voice filled the room, warm and intimate even through the speaker. "How's my favorite vacation girl?"

 

"Oh my god, this place is incredible. Everything is perfect."

 

I kept my eyes on my phone, but I could feel the lie in Isabella's words. Nothing was perfect for me. The plastic cage James had provided at the airport was still there, still pink, still a constant reminder that I was wearing borrowed humiliation.

 

"Listen to you," Katie laughed. "You sound so excited. Be careful though, okay?"

 

"Of what?"

 

"Sharks, obviously." Katie's voice dropped playfully. "I heard you ran into some big ones today."

 

I looked up. Isabella was watching me now, her eyes catching mine with something that might have been sympathy or might have been anticipation.

 

"I can take care of myself," Isabella said.

 

"Oh, I know you can, sweetie." Katie's tone shifted, became something else entirely. "But we need to be careful with Peaboy, don't we?"

 

The nickname hit me like a physical thing. I stood up, intending to move to the bathroom, to escape the sound of them discussing me like I wasn't there.

 

Isabella's hand shot out, catching my wrist. Her grip was gentle but firm, her fingers wrapping around my arm with casual authority. She pulled me toward the bed.

 

"I'm sure James finding us at the airport was your doing," Isabella said into the phone, her eyes still on me.

 

"I might have mentioned a few things to him," Katie admitted. "But what he does with information is his own talent."

 

"He's an incredible photographer," Isabella said, and I watched her face soften in a way that made my stomach clench.

 

"And pretty good at applying sunscreen too, from what I heard?" Katie's voice was light, teasing.

 

I felt my face heat. The memory of returning from that long walk on hot sand to find James's hands on Isabella's shoulders, his thumbs sliding all over her back, while she arched into his touch like a cat.

 

"I was pretty uncomfortable with that," I thought, but I didn't say it. Couldn't say it. Not with Isabella looking at me like I was being unreasonable just by existing in my own discomfort.

 

Isabella didn't deny Katie's implication. She just smiled, that private smile that used to be for me.

 

"Hey Peaboy," Katie's voice sharpened, addressing me directly now. "Sounds like Isabella's elevated you to a whole new level, hasn't she?"

 

Isabella laughed and reached past me, grabbing her backpack from the chair where I'd left it. She held it up to the phone, the peanut-shaped keychain dangling in the lamplight.

 

"Isn't it cute?" she asked.

 

"Oh my god," Katie's laugh burst through the speaker. "It's perfect. It's so him. And it looks like you're having fun too, Peaboy."

 

"Oh he is," Isabella said, settling back against the pillows with her legs stretched across my lap. I froze, unsure if I was supposed to move or stay. "James was reminiscing about old times earlier."

 

"God, high school," Katie's voice went dreamy. "James and I were always the biggest partiers. Thank god Peaboy here did all our homework for us."

 

"You made him do your work?" Isabella asked, and I could hear the delight in her voice.

 

"Of course," Katie said easily. "James was always so good at finding uses for him."

 

I felt Isabella's eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. I kept my face blank, staring at the wall.

 

"Seriously?" Isabella asked. "Then I definitely need James around."

 

"I know," Katie said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "You two are perfect together."

 

I couldn't believe Katie was an old friend of Isabella's. And why did Isabella have to encourage her?

 

"But I couldn't complain too much, could I? Our Peaboy here is being pretty useful on this trip, carrying all our bags so nicely."

 

"Hey," Katie's voice dropped, became conspiratorial. "How's he handling all those beach butts? Something tells me he's feeling that new plastic pretty intensely."

 

Isabella giggled, her hand falling to rest on my thigh. "James was so great to bring it. The pink color suits him perfectly."

 

I always hated how casually she talked about the cage. I still don't know how I ended up in this. Something about falling for her argument that 'it brought couples closer together' or that it was 'perfect for someone like me'

 

"Aw," Isabella cooed, her fingers tracing patterns on my leg. "My baby's got that pouty face. Are you sad because you're the only one who has to wear one?"

 

I opened my mouth to deny it, but she was already talking to Katie again.

 

"Maybe we should ask James to wear one too, just to make him feel better?"

 

"That won't fit," Katie said immediately, her voice bright and forceful. "I mean, they don't make it in his size, I think."

 

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning I didn't want to understand. Then both women burst into laughter, loud and unguarded, Isabella's body shaking against mine as she clutched her phone.

Chapter 04: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Isabella was sprawled across the hotel bed, her phone propped against a pillow, scrolling through photos from the aquarium. The room was dim, only the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across her skin. She had changed into a thin camisole and shorts, looking comfortable in a way that made me feel overdressed in my t-shirt and jeans.

 

I sat in the desk chair, supposedly checking my own phone, but really just trying to process the day. The shark. The keychain now hanging from my backpack by the door. The way Isabella had laughed when James applied sunscreen to her back, as if I weren't standing right there with the bottle she'd sent me to fetch.

 

Her phone rang.

 

Isabella's face transformed instantly, that genuine brightness that made my chest tighten with something I couldn't name. She tapped the screen and propped it up properly.

 

"Katie!" Her voice came out breathless, eager. "You have to see these photos."

 

"Hey gorgeous," Katie's voice filled the room, warm and intimate even through the speaker. "How's my favorite vacation girl?"

 

"Oh my god, this place is incredible. Everything is perfect."

 

I kept my eyes on my phone, but I could feel the lie in Isabella's words. Nothing was perfect for me. The plastic cage James had provided at the airport was still there, still pink, still a constant reminder that I was wearing borrowed humiliation.

 

"Listen to you," Katie laughed. "You sound so excited. Be careful though, okay?"

 

"Of what?"

 

"Sharks, obviously." Katie's voice dropped playfully. "I heard you ran into some big ones today."

 

I looked up. Isabella was watching me now, her eyes catching mine with something that might have been sympathy or might have been anticipation.

 

"I can take care of myself," Isabella said.

 

"Oh, I know you can, sweetie." Katie's tone shifted, became something else entirely. "But we need to be careful with Peaboy, don't we?"

 

The nickname hit me like a physical thing. I stood up, intending to move to the bathroom, to escape the sound of them discussing me like I wasn't there.

 

Isabella's hand shot out, catching my wrist. Her grip was gentle but firm, her fingers wrapping around my arm with casual authority. She pulled me toward the bed.

 

"I'm sure James finding us at the airport was your doing," Isabella said into the phone, her eyes still on me.

 

"I might have mentioned a few things to him," Katie admitted. "But what he does with information is his own talent."

 

"He's an incredible photographer," Isabella said, and I watched her face soften in a way that made my stomach clench.

 

"And pretty good at applying sunscreen too, from what I heard?" Katie's voice was light, teasing.

 

I felt my face heat. The memory of returning from that long walk on hot sand to find James's hands on Isabella's shoulders, his thumbs sliding all over her back, while she arched into his touch like a cat.

 

"I was pretty uncomfortable with that," I thought, but I didn't say it. Couldn't say it. Not with Isabella looking at me like I was being unreasonable just by existing in my own discomfort.

 

Isabella didn't deny Katie's implication. She just smiled, that private smile that used to be for me.

 

"Hey Peaboy," Katie's voice sharpened, addressing me directly now. "Sounds like Isabella's elevated you to a whole new level, hasn't she?"

 

Isabella laughed and reached past me, grabbing her backpack from the chair where I'd left it. She held it up to the phone, the peanut-shaped keychain dangling in the lamplight.

 

"Isn't it cute?" she asked.

 

"Oh my god," Katie's laugh burst through the speaker. "It's perfect. It's so him. And it looks like you're having fun too, Peaboy."

 

"Oh he is," Isabella said, settling back against the pillows with her legs stretched across my lap. I froze, unsure if I was supposed to move or stay. "James was reminiscing about old times earlier."

 

"God, high school," Katie's voice went dreamy. "James and I were always the biggest partiers. Thank god Peaboy here did all our homework for us."

 

"You made him do your work?" Isabella asked, and I could hear the delight in her voice.

 

"Of course," Katie said easily. "James was always so good at finding uses for him."

 

I felt Isabella's eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. I kept my face blank, staring at the wall.

 

"Seriously?" Isabella asked. "Then I definitely need James around."

 

"I know," Katie said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "You two are perfect together."

 

I couldn't believe Katie was an old friend of Isabella's. And why did Isabella have to encourage her?

 

"But I couldn't complain too much, could I? Our Peaboy here is being pretty useful on this trip, carrying all our bags so nicely."

 

"Hey," Katie's voice dropped, became conspiratorial. "How's he handling all those beach butts? Something tells me he's feeling that new plastic pretty intensely."

 

Isabella giggled, her hand falling to rest on my thigh. "James was so great to bring it. The pink color suits him perfectly."

 

I always hated how casually she talked about the cage. I still don't know how I ended up in this. Something about falling for her argument that 'it brought couples closer together' or that it was 'perfect for someone like me'

 

"Aw," Isabella cooed, her fingers tracing patterns on my leg. "My baby's got that pouty face. Are you sad because you're the only one who has to wear one?"

 

I opened my mouth to deny it, but she was already talking to Katie again.

 

"Maybe we should ask James to wear one too, just to make him feel better?"

 

"That won't fit," Katie said immediately, her voice bright and forceful. "I mean, they don't make it in his size, I think."

 

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning I didn't want to understand. Then both women burst into laughter, loud and unguarded, Isabella's body shaking against mine as she clutched her phone.

Chapter 03: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Isabella announced that we were going to the aquarium before breakfast had even ended.

She had apparently spent part of the previous evening looking through photos of the place online and had become completely obsessed with the idea. By the time we left the hotel, she was already talking excitedly about sharks, sea turtles, coral reefs, and at least three different exhibits she wanted to see. The entire ride there consisted of Isabella enthusiastically explaining things she had learned less than twelve hours earlier while James occasionally encouraged her and I quietly listened from the seat beside them.

The aquarium itself was enormous. Massive glass tanks stretched across entire walls while soft blue lighting reflected across the polished floors, giving the entire building the feeling of being partially underwater. Families wandered between exhibits, couples enjoyed romantic walks, and every few minutes Isabella would spot something new and immediately change directions.

For the first half hour, everything went exactly as expected. She admired colorful tropical fish, spent several minutes watching a sea turtle glide through the water, and laughed at an eel that looked permanently annoyed with the world. Every exhibit became her favorite exhibit until the next one appeared.

Eventually we reached a quieter section of the aquarium built around rocky coastal habitats. Most visitors seemed content to walk through without stopping, which was why it took me a few seconds to realize Isabella was no longer beside us.

When James and I turned around, she had stopped in front of one of the tanks and was staring through the glass with a growing smile on her face.

"What did you find?" James asked.

Instead of answering, she stepped closer to the exhibit and continued studying something near the bottom of the tank. The smile never disappeared.

For some reason, that immediately made me nervous.

Over the past few days, I had learned that Isabella's most dangerous ideas usually started exactly like this.

When we joined her at the tank, she pointed toward a collection of rocks near the bottom of the exhibit. Hidden among them was a small fish that most visitors probably wouldn't have noticed at all. Unlike the others swimming openly through the tank, this one seemed determined to avoid attention. Whenever a larger fish passed nearby, it disappeared deeper into the rocks before cautiously reappearing once everything seemed safe again.

Eventually Isabella pulled out her phone and started taking pictures through the glass, which only made both James and me more curious.

"Okay, what am I supposed to be looking at?" James asked.

"I'm not telling you yet."

That answer immediately earned another suspicious look from both of us.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's funnier this way."

The fact that she openly admitted that did absolutely nothing to reassure me. Then she raised her phone and pointed toward an open space directly in front of the tank.

"Hun, stand over there for a second."

I stared at her suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I want a picture."

"You've taken pictures of fish all morning."

"I know."

"Then why do you suddenly need me in one?"

"Just trust me."

There was absolutely no reason to trust her, but arguing would probably only encourage whatever she was planning. Reluctantly, I walked over to the spot she indicated and stood in front of the glass while she adjusted her phone.

She took several photos from different angles, occasionally glancing between the screen and the fish behind me as though she were trying to confirm a theory. By the time she seemed satisfied, James was openly laughing despite not having seen the results yet.

Isabella walked over and showed him the gallery. James studied the screen for several seconds before looking at me, then at the tank, then back at the phone. The grin that slowly spread across his face told me everything I needed to know.

"Oh, that's actually incredible."

"I know!" Isabella said, sounding absurdly proud of herself.

At that point I stopped trying to be patient.

"Can somebody explain the joke?"

Isabella and James waited for me to figure it out myself.

Then it clicked.

"Oh, come on."

"I'm sorry" Isabella laughed. "You cannot tell me you don't see it."

James shook his head.

"The body language is almost identical."

"Thank you" Isabella said.

Neither of them seemed capable of looking at the pictures without finding something new to laugh about. What made the situation particularly annoying was how pleased Isabella looked with herself. She wasn't acting like someone who had just made a joke. She looked like someone who had discovered evidence supporting a scientific breakthrough.

By the time we finally left the exhibit, she had already looked at the photos at least half a dozen times and declared the fish her favorite animal in the entire aquarium. Given the circumstances, I had a strong suspicion that the fish's actual qualities had very little to do with that decision.

 

Unfortunately, the photos didn't disappear when we left the exhibit.

 

Every few minutes Isabella would pull out her phone, glance at the gallery, and immediately start smiling again. She never even tried to hide it. The fact that she continued finding the comparison amusing long after the joke should have died only made the entire situation more irritating.

 

"I still think you're being unfair," I said as we entered another section of the aquarium.

 

"Hun, the fish literally looks nervous."

 

"So?"

 

"So do you."

 

James laughed.

 

"She's got a point."

 

"I hate both of you."

 

"No, you don't."

 

The annoying part was how cheerful she sounded while saying it.

 

The conversation eventually drifted toward other exhibits, and for a while I thought the fish incident had finally run its course. Then we entered the shark gallery.

 

The change in atmosphere was immediate.

 

The room was considerably darker than the rest of the aquarium, illuminated primarily by the enormous tank occupying most of the far wall. Several sharks moved through the water beyond the glass, their silhouettes occasionally passing overhead as they circled through the exhibit. Visitors spoke more quietly here than they did elsewhere, and even Isabella seemed briefly impressed into silence as she watched one of the larger sharks glide across the tank.

 

For several moments she simply stood there observing them.

 

Unlike the fish she had been laughing at earlier, the sharks moved with complete confidence. They didn't dart around the tank or react to everything around them. They simply continued forward, and everything else adjusted accordingly.

 

"I love sharks," Isabella finally said.

 

"I'm shocked," I replied.

 

She ignored me.

 

"No, seriously. Look at them."

 

James stepped beside her as another shark passed in front of the glass.

 

"They're impressive," she said.

 

"It's not even just the size," James replied.

 

She continued watching the exhibit.

 

"They act like they own the place."

 

"Because they kind of do."

 

"I know."

 

There was something about that answer that genuinely seemed to appeal to her.

 

She watched another shark circle through the tank before continuing.

 

"Nothing bothers them."

 

"Not much can."

 

"They don't spend their entire lives hiding behind rocks."

 

I immediately narrowed my eyes.

 

The smile that appeared on her face confirmed she knew exactly what she was doing.

 

James started laughing.

 

"You really waited for that one."

 

"It was right there."

 

"You've been waiting to use that joke for ten minutes."

 

"Maybe."

 

For some reason she seemed extremely pleased with herself.

 

A few moments later another shark drifted past the viewing window, drawing her attention back toward the tank. She followed it with her eyes for several seconds before glancing toward James.

 

Then she started smiling again.

 

I recognized that smile immediately.

 

"Oh no."

 

"What?" James asked.

 

Instead of answering, Isabella pointed toward the shark and then toward James.

 

James looked at the shark, and a grin slowly spread across his face.

 

"Oh."

 

"I know."

 

"Oh, that's good."

 

"Right?"

 

I was already regretting being there.

 

Unlike the fish comparison, James seemed genuinely flattered by this one.

 

"Let me guess," I said.

 

"Hun, it's actually perfect."

 

She was already reaching for her phone.

 

A few seconds later she was directing James toward a position directly in front of the tank. Unlike me, he seemed more than happy to participate.

 

"Stand closer."

 

He did.

 

"No, a little closer."

 

He adjusted again.

 

"There."

 

Isabella immediately began taking pictures.

 

The entire process felt disturbingly familiar.

 

The only difference was that James seemed determined to embrace the comparison as much as possible. He folded his arms, straightened his posture, and somehow managed to look even more confident every time Isabella pointed the camera at him.

 

By the time she finished, both of them seemed delighted with the results.

 

"Oh, these are amazing."

 

James leaned over her shoulder to look at the gallery.

 

"That one actually turned out really well."

 

"I told you."

 

Another shark passed through the background of one of the photos.

 

Isabella laughed.

 

"Okay, that's ridiculous."

 

"What?"

 

"The timing."

 

She showed him the photo, and within seconds both of them were laughing again.

 

Eventually we left the shark gallery and made our way toward the exit. I assumed the joke had finally reached its natural conclusion, although the fact that Isabella was still occasionally opening her gallery and smiling at the photos suggested otherwise.

 

The gift shop occupied the final section of the aquarium, forcing every visitor to pass through rows of souvenirs before leaving. Shelves filled with plush animals, toys, mugs, postcards, and every imaginable form of aquarium-themed merchandise stretched in every direction. Most of it barely registered in my mind as we wandered through the store, but Isabella approached the place with the same enthusiasm she brought to everything else and quickly became distracted by whatever happened to catch her attention.

 

For several minutes nothing particularly concerning happened. Then Isabella suddenly stopped in front of a display and started laughing.

 

I immediately recognized the expression on her face.

 

That expression never led anywhere good.

 

"What?" I asked.

 

Instead of answering, she picked up an item from the display and turned toward James. Whatever she had found apparently required very little explanation because the moment he saw it, he started smiling as well.

 

"Oh, that's perfect."

 

"I KNOW."

 

The speed with which they reached complete agreement was deeply concerning.

 

"What is perfect?"

 

Neither of them seemed especially interested in answering. If anything, my confusion only appeared to make the situation funnier. Isabella was already laughing again by the time she finally held the item up for me to see.

 

It was a peanut-shaped keychain.

 

For several seconds I simply stared at it while trying to understand why both of them suddenly found it so amusing. Unfortunately, the expressions on their faces made it increasingly clear that they had already connected it to something, and I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly who that something was.

 

"Oh my god," Isabella said through her laughter. "It's literally him."

 

"It really is," James agreed.

 

The fact that he didn't even hesitate was somehow the worst part.

 

"I have to buy this."

 

"Please don't."

 

Neither of them paid the slightest attention to my objection. By that point the decision had clearly already been made, and several minutes later Isabella emerged from the register carrying the keychain and looking extremely pleased with herself. I briefly allowed myself to hope that she intended to keep it as a souvenir.

 

That hope disappeared the moment she looked in my direction.

 

"Hun."

 

"No."

 

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

 

"Yes, I do."

 

She laughed, which was more than enough confirmation.

 

Before I had the opportunity to move away, she attached the peanut keychain to my backpack and stepped back to admire the result. The satisfied expression on her face suggested that, in her mind, she had just completed something important. James appeared equally impressed by her work, and judging by the laughter both of them were struggling to suppress, neither saw any problem with what had just happened.

 

"It's perfect," Isabella declared.

 

I wasn't entirely sure how a fish, a shark, and a peanut had somehow become connected over the course of a single afternoon, but Isabella clearly considered the chain of logic completely self-evident. As far as she was concerned, everything fit together perfectly, and the keychain was simply the final piece of a joke that had been building since she first spotted that fish hiding among the rocks.

 

By the time we left the aquarium, the peanut was still hanging from my backpack while Isabella and James walked ahead of me discussing their favorite exhibits. Neither of them mentioned the fish again, but they didn't need to. The photos were already sitting safely in Isabella's gallery, and judging by how often she had revisited them throughout the day, I had a strong suspicion that I hadn't heard the last of that particular joke.

Chapter 03: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, Isabella announced that we were going to the aquarium before breakfast had even ended.

She had apparently spent part of the previous evening looking through photos of the place online and had become completely obsessed with the idea. By the time we left the hotel, she was already talking excitedly about sharks, sea turtles, coral reefs, and at least three different exhibits she wanted to see. The entire ride there consisted of Isabella enthusiastically explaining things she had learned less than twelve hours earlier while James occasionally encouraged her and I quietly listened from the seat beside them.

The aquarium itself was enormous. Massive glass tanks stretched across entire walls while soft blue lighting reflected across the polished floors, giving the entire building the feeling of being partially underwater. Families wandered between exhibits, couples enjoyed romantic walks, and every few minutes Isabella would spot something new and immediately change directions.

For the first half hour, everything went exactly as expected. She admired colorful tropical fish, spent several minutes watching a sea turtle glide through the water, and laughed at an eel that looked permanently annoyed with the world. Every exhibit became her favorite exhibit until the next one appeared.

Eventually we reached a quieter section of the aquarium built around rocky coastal habitats. Most visitors seemed content to walk through without stopping, which was why it took me a few seconds to realize Isabella was no longer beside us.

When James and I turned around, she had stopped in front of one of the tanks and was staring through the glass with a growing smile on her face.

"What did you find?" James asked.

Instead of answering, she stepped closer to the exhibit and continued studying something near the bottom of the tank. The smile never disappeared.

For some reason, that immediately made me nervous.

Over the past few days, I had learned that Isabella's most dangerous ideas usually started exactly like this.

When we joined her at the tank, she pointed toward a collection of rocks near the bottom of the exhibit. Hidden among them was a small fish that most visitors probably wouldn't have noticed at all. Unlike the others swimming openly through the tank, this one seemed determined to avoid attention. Whenever a larger fish passed nearby, it disappeared deeper into the rocks before cautiously reappearing once everything seemed safe again.

Eventually Isabella pulled out her phone and started taking pictures through the glass, which only made both James and me more curious.

"Okay, what am I supposed to be looking at?" James asked.

"I'm not telling you yet."

That answer immediately earned another suspicious look from both of us.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's funnier this way."

The fact that she openly admitted that did absolutely nothing to reassure me. Then she raised her phone and pointed toward an open space directly in front of the tank.

"Hun, stand over there for a second."

I stared at her suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I want a picture."

"You've taken pictures of fish all morning."

"I know."

"Then why do you suddenly need me in one?"

"Just trust me."

There was absolutely no reason to trust her, but arguing would probably only encourage whatever she was planning. Reluctantly, I walked over to the spot she indicated and stood in front of the glass while she adjusted her phone.

She took several photos from different angles, occasionally glancing between the screen and the fish behind me as though she were trying to confirm a theory. By the time she seemed satisfied, James was openly laughing despite not having seen the results yet.

Isabella walked over and showed him the gallery. James studied the screen for several seconds before looking at me, then at the tank, then back at the phone. The grin that slowly spread across his face told me everything I needed to know.

"Oh, that's actually incredible."

"I know!" Isabella said, sounding absurdly proud of herself.

At that point I stopped trying to be patient.

"Can somebody explain the joke?"

Isabella and James waited for me to figure it out myself.

Then it clicked.

"Oh, come on."

"I'm sorry" Isabella laughed. "You cannot tell me you don't see it."

James shook his head.

"The body language is almost identical."

"Thank you" Isabella said.

Neither of them seemed capable of looking at the pictures without finding something new to laugh about. What made the situation particularly annoying was how pleased Isabella looked with herself. She wasn't acting like someone who had just made a joke. She looked like someone who had discovered evidence supporting a scientific breakthrough.

By the time we finally left the exhibit, she had already looked at the photos at least half a dozen times and declared the fish her favorite animal in the entire aquarium. Given the circumstances, I had a strong suspicion that the fish's actual qualities had very little to do with that decision.

 

Unfortunately, the photos didn't disappear when we left the exhibit.

 

Every few minutes Isabella would pull out her phone, glance at the gallery, and immediately start smiling again. She never even tried to hide it. The fact that she continued finding the comparison amusing long after the joke should have died only made the entire situation more irritating.

 

"I still think you're being unfair," I said as we entered another section of the aquarium.

 

"Hun, the fish literally looks nervous."

 

"So?"

 

"So do you."

 

James laughed.

 

"She's got a point."

 

"I hate both of you."

 

"No, you don't."

 

The annoying part was how cheerful she sounded while saying it.

 

The conversation eventually drifted toward other exhibits, and for a while I thought the fish incident had finally run its course. Then we entered the shark gallery.

 

The change in atmosphere was immediate.

 

The room was considerably darker than the rest of the aquarium, illuminated primarily by the enormous tank occupying most of the far wall. Several sharks moved through the water beyond the glass, their silhouettes occasionally passing overhead as they circled through the exhibit. Visitors spoke more quietly here than they did elsewhere, and even Isabella seemed briefly impressed into silence as she watched one of the larger sharks glide across the tank.

 

For several moments she simply stood there observing them.

 

Unlike the fish she had been laughing at earlier, the sharks moved with complete confidence. They didn't dart around the tank or react to everything around them. They simply continued forward, and everything else adjusted accordingly.

 

"I love sharks," Isabella finally said.

 

"I'm shocked," I replied.

 

She ignored me.

 

"No, seriously. Look at them."

 

James stepped beside her as another shark passed in front of the glass.

 

"They're impressive," she said.

 

"It's not even just the size," James replied.

 

She continued watching the exhibit.

 

"They act like they own the place."

 

"Because they kind of do."

 

"I know."

 

There was something about that answer that genuinely seemed to appeal to her.

 

She watched another shark circle through the tank before continuing.

 

"Nothing bothers them."

 

"Not much can."

 

"They don't spend their entire lives hiding behind rocks."

 

I immediately narrowed my eyes.

 

The smile that appeared on her face confirmed she knew exactly what she was doing.

 

James started laughing.

 

"You really waited for that one."

 

"It was right there."

 

"You've been waiting to use that joke for ten minutes."

 

"Maybe."

 

For some reason she seemed extremely pleased with herself.

 

A few moments later another shark drifted past the viewing window, drawing her attention back toward the tank. She followed it with her eyes for several seconds before glancing toward James.

 

Then she started smiling again.

 

I recognized that smile immediately.

 

"Oh no."

 

"What?" James asked.

 

Instead of answering, Isabella pointed toward the shark and then toward James.

 

James looked at the shark, and a grin slowly spread across his face.

 

"Oh."

 

"I know."

 

"Oh, that's good."

 

"Right?"

 

I was already regretting being there.

 

Unlike the fish comparison, James seemed genuinely flattered by this one.

 

"Let me guess," I said.

 

"Hun, it's actually perfect."

 

She was already reaching for her phone.

 

A few seconds later she was directing James toward a position directly in front of the tank. Unlike me, he seemed more than happy to participate.

 

"Stand closer."

 

He did.

 

"No, a little closer."

 

He adjusted again.

 

"There."

 

Isabella immediately began taking pictures.

 

The entire process felt disturbingly familiar.

 

The only difference was that James seemed determined to embrace the comparison as much as possible. He folded his arms, straightened his posture, and somehow managed to look even more confident every time Isabella pointed the camera at him.

 

By the time she finished, both of them seemed delighted with the results.

 

"Oh, these are amazing."

 

James leaned over her shoulder to look at the gallery.

 

"That one actually turned out really well."

 

"I told you."

 

Another shark passed through the background of one of the photos.

 

Isabella laughed.

 

"Okay, that's ridiculous."

 

"What?"

 

"The timing."

 

She showed him the photo, and within seconds both of them were laughing again.

 

Eventually we left the shark gallery and made our way toward the exit. I assumed the joke had finally reached its natural conclusion, although the fact that Isabella was still occasionally opening her gallery and smiling at the photos suggested otherwise.

 

The gift shop occupied the final section of the aquarium, forcing every visitor to pass through rows of souvenirs before leaving. Shelves filled with plush animals, toys, mugs, postcards, and every imaginable form of aquarium-themed merchandise stretched in every direction. Most of it barely registered in my mind as we wandered through the store, but Isabella approached the place with the same enthusiasm she brought to everything else and quickly became distracted by whatever happened to catch her attention.

 

For several minutes nothing particularly concerning happened. Then Isabella suddenly stopped in front of a display and started laughing.

 

I immediately recognized the expression on her face.

 

That expression never led anywhere good.

 

"What?" I asked.

 

Instead of answering, she picked up an item from the display and turned toward James. Whatever she had found apparently required very little explanation because the moment he saw it, he started smiling as well.

 

"Oh, that's perfect."

 

"I KNOW."

 

The speed with which they reached complete agreement was deeply concerning.

 

"What is perfect?"

 

Neither of them seemed especially interested in answering. If anything, my confusion only appeared to make the situation funnier. Isabella was already laughing again by the time she finally held the item up for me to see.

 

It was a peanut-shaped keychain.

 

For several seconds I simply stared at it while trying to understand why both of them suddenly found it so amusing. Unfortunately, the expressions on their faces made it increasingly clear that they had already connected it to something, and I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly who that something was.

 

"Oh my god," Isabella said through her laughter. "It's literally him."

 

"It really is," James agreed.

 

The fact that he didn't even hesitate was somehow the worst part.

 

"I have to buy this."

 

"Please don't."

 

Neither of them paid the slightest attention to my objection. By that point the decision had clearly already been made, and several minutes later Isabella emerged from the register carrying the keychain and looking extremely pleased with herself. I briefly allowed myself to hope that she intended to keep it as a souvenir.

 

That hope disappeared the moment she looked in my direction.

 

"Hun."

 

"No."

 

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

 

"Yes, I do."

 

She laughed, which was more than enough confirmation.

 

Before I had the opportunity to move away, she attached the peanut keychain to my backpack and stepped back to admire the result. The satisfied expression on her face suggested that, in her mind, she had just completed something important. James appeared equally impressed by her work, and judging by the laughter both of them were struggling to suppress, neither saw any problem with what had just happened.

 

"It's perfect," Isabella declared.

 

I wasn't entirely sure how a fish, a shark, and a peanut had somehow become connected over the course of a single afternoon, but Isabella clearly considered the chain of logic completely self-evident. As far as she was concerned, everything fit together perfectly, and the keychain was simply the final piece of a joke that had been building since she first spotted that fish hiding among the rocks.

 

By the time we left the aquarium, the peanut was still hanging from my backpack while Isabella and James walked ahead of me discussing their favorite exhibits. Neither of them mentioned the fish again, but they didn't need to. The photos were already sitting safely in Isabella's gallery, and judging by how often she had revisited them throughout the day, I had a strong suspicion that I hadn't heard the last of that particular joke.

Chapter 01: Here

Chapter 02: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was somehow even more beautiful than the first. The sky stretched endlessly above the resort without a single cloud in sight, while the ocean shimmered beneath the tropical sun like a field of scattered diamonds. Palm trees swayed lazily in the warm breeze, and everywhere around us tourists wandered between the beach and the pools, already enjoying another perfect day in paradise.

 

As usual, Isabella looked like she belonged there more than anyone else.

 

She emerged from the hotel elevator wearing a black designer bikini beneath a loose white cover-up, her gold jewelry glimmering softly against her tanned skin. Her dyed blonde hair rested perfectly over her shoulders, and despite having spent only a few minutes getting ready, she somehow looked as though she had walked straight out of a luxury magazine.

 

James gave a low whistle as soon as he saw her.

 

“Wow.”

 

Isabella laughed and turned toward him.

 

“What?”

 

“You look expensive.”

 

That only made her laugh harder.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“It was.”

 

The three of us headed toward the beach together, Isabella walking a few steps ahead while excitedly pointing out different attractions she wanted to visit later. She talked about the aquarium, the water park, the restaurants, and at least three different bars she wanted to try before the end of the trip. The entire time she radiated the same effortless excitement she had displayed ever since we arrived. Looking at her, it was impossible not to see how happy she was.

 

Unfortunately, that happiness eventually led to trouble.

 

About halfway down the beach, Isabella suddenly stopped walking.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

The moment I heard that tone, I knew exactly what was coming.

 

“What?”

 

Instead of answering immediately, she pointed toward a section of shoreline where large rocks extended into the water. The ocean behind them sparkled beneath the afternoon sunlight, creating the sort of picturesque view people used for travel advertisements.

 

“We have to take pictures there.”

 

Within minutes she was already posing beside the rocks while I held her phone. At first everything seemed simple enough. She adjusted her hair, shifted her posture slightly, and smiled while I snapped picture after picture from every angle I could think of.

 

When I finally handed the phone back, she spent several moments scrolling through the gallery.

 

“Hm.”

 

I immediately regretted asking.

 

“What?”

 

“They’re okay.”

 

The word okay somehow sounded far more threatening than criticism.

 

Before she could elaborate further, James leaned over her shoulder.

 

“Let me see.”

 

The two of them examined the photos together while I stood there waiting for the verdict.

 

“Your angles are too low,” James finally said.

 

“Thank you!” Isabella exclaimed, immediately pointing at him. “I knew something was off.”

 

I frowned.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“It means you're making me look shorter.”

 

“You are short.”

 

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

 

“I am not short.”

 

James laughed.

 

“See? That's exactly why she shouldn't let you take the pictures.”

 

What annoyed me most was that Isabella immediately handed him the phone.

 

A few minutes later he had somehow taken complete control of the entire photoshoot. What began as a handful of vacation pictures quickly transformed into something that looked far more professional. James constantly adjusted her posture, suggested different poses, directed her gaze toward the ocean, and even repositioned himself to capture better angles. To my immense frustration, the results were actually impressive.

 

Every few minutes Isabella would jog over to him and review the newest photos, her excitement growing each time.

 

“Oh wow.”

 

She would swipe to the next picture.

 

“Oh wow.”

 

Another swipe.

 

“James, these are amazing.”

 

Meanwhile, I had somehow been promoted from photographer to luggage rack. At various points I found myself holding Isabella's sandals, sunglasses, cover-up, beach bag, jewelry pouch, and eventually even her drink. The longer the photoshoot continued, the more belongings mysteriously ended up in my hands.

 

An elderly couple passed by at one point and glanced in our direction. The woman looked at me, then at the growing mountain of accessories I was carrying, and offered what appeared to be a genuinely sympathetic smile. I wasn't entirely sure whether that made me feel better or worse.

 

The entire thing continued for nearly an hour. By the end, James was practically directing a magazine shoot while Isabella posed enthusiastically against every attractive background the beach had to offer. To make matters worse, they were clearly enjoying themselves.

 

“Oh my god, you're actually good at this,” Isabella admitted after reviewing another set of pictures.

 

“I dated an influencer once.”

 

“That explains so much.”

 

“Doesn't it?”

 

The two of them laughed together while I adjusted my grip on her belongings and stared out toward the ocean.

 

Eventually Isabella collapsed onto a beach chair and began scrolling through the gallery. Judging by the enormous smile on her face, she seemed completely satisfied with the results.

 

“I think we got enough.”

 

Relief washed over me immediately.

 

Unfortunately, it survived for less than ten seconds.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

I closed my eyes.

 

“What now?”

 

She sat upright and looked between James and me.

 

“I need a picture with both of you.”

 

Before either of us could object, she was already waving down a passing tourist. A middle-aged woman happily agreed and accepted Isabella’s phone.

 

A few moments later we were standing together in front of the ocean while Isabella positioned herself between us.

 

“Okay, everyone smile,” the woman said.

 

Several pictures were taken. When Isabella got her phone back, she immediately started reviewing them.

 

Then she laughed.

 

“Hun.”

 

“What?”

 

She turned the screen toward me.

 

“You look miserable.”

 

“I’ve spent the last hour carrying everybody’s stuff.”

 

“That’s fair,” James admitted.

 

For a brief moment I thought he was actually defending me.

 

Then he ruined it.

 

“To be fair, you've been carrying everybody's stuff since high school.”

 

The grin on his face suggested he had been saving that joke for years.

 

Isabella burst out laughing.

 

“James!”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s awful.”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

She tried to answer, but another laugh escaped first.

 

Eventually she calmed down enough to continue looking through the photos. Her smile gradually softened as she paused on one particular image.

 

“Oh, I love this one.”

 

I reluctantly leaned closer.

 

The photo showed all three of us standing together on the beach. The ocean stretched endlessly behind us beneath the bright afternoon sun. James looked relaxed and confident, like he belonged in a vacation advertisement. Isabella looked radiant, smiling brightly with one arm around each of us.

 

And I looked like I was attending a funeral.

 

For some reason, that only made her love the picture more.

 

“This one's my favorite,” she announced happily.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it feels real.”

 

I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she continued staring at the photo with an expression of genuine affection.

A few seconds later she shrugged, stood up, and stretched.

 

“Come on. I want frozen drinks.”

 

She started walking toward the beach bar without waiting for either of us.

 

James stood up.

 

I stood up.

 

And, without anyone even asking, I somehow ended up carrying all of Isabella’s things again.

 

As we followed her across the sand, I glanced ahead and watched her laughing to herself, clearly enjoying what she considered the perfect vacation.

 

The disturbing part was that, from her perspective, it probably was.

Chapter 01: Here

Chapter 02: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning was somehow even more beautiful than the first. The sky stretched endlessly above the resort without a single cloud in sight, while the ocean shimmered beneath the tropical sun like a field of scattered diamonds. Palm trees swayed lazily in the warm breeze, and everywhere around us tourists wandered between the beach and the pools, already enjoying another perfect day in paradise.

 

As usual, Isabella looked like she belonged there more than anyone else.

 

She emerged from the hotel elevator wearing a black designer bikini beneath a loose white cover-up, her gold jewelry glimmering softly against her tanned skin. Her dyed blonde hair rested perfectly over her shoulders, and despite having spent only a few minutes getting ready, she somehow looked as though she had walked straight out of a luxury magazine.

 

James gave a low whistle as soon as he saw her.

 

“Wow.”

 

Isabella laughed and turned toward him.

 

“What?”

 

“You look expensive.”

 

That only made her laugh harder.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“It was.”

 

The three of us headed toward the beach together, Isabella walking a few steps ahead while excitedly pointing out different attractions she wanted to visit later. She talked about the aquarium, the water park, the restaurants, and at least three different bars she wanted to try before the end of the trip. The entire time she radiated the same effortless excitement she had displayed ever since we arrived. Looking at her, it was impossible not to see how happy she was.

 

Unfortunately, that happiness eventually led to trouble.

 

About halfway down the beach, Isabella suddenly stopped walking.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

The moment I heard that tone, I knew exactly what was coming.

 

“What?”

 

Instead of answering immediately, she pointed toward a section of shoreline where large rocks extended into the water. The ocean behind them sparkled beneath the afternoon sunlight, creating the sort of picturesque view people used for travel advertisements.

 

“We have to take pictures there.”

 

Within minutes she was already posing beside the rocks while I held her phone. At first everything seemed simple enough. She adjusted her hair, shifted her posture slightly, and smiled while I snapped picture after picture from every angle I could think of.

 

When I finally handed the phone back, she spent several moments scrolling through the gallery.

 

“Hm.”

 

I immediately regretted asking.

 

“What?”

 

“They’re okay.”

 

The word okay somehow sounded far more threatening than criticism.

 

Before she could elaborate further, James leaned over her shoulder.

 

“Let me see.”

 

The two of them examined the photos together while I stood there waiting for the verdict.

 

“Your angles are too low,” James finally said.

 

“Thank you!” Isabella exclaimed, immediately pointing at him. “I knew something was off.”

 

I frowned.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“It means you're making me look shorter.”

 

“You are short.”

 

She rolled her eyes dramatically.

 

“I am not short.”

 

James laughed.

 

“See? That's exactly why she shouldn't let you take the pictures.”

 

What annoyed me most was that Isabella immediately handed him the phone.

 

A few minutes later he had somehow taken complete control of the entire photoshoot. What began as a handful of vacation pictures quickly transformed into something that looked far more professional. James constantly adjusted her posture, suggested different poses, directed her gaze toward the ocean, and even repositioned himself to capture better angles. To my immense frustration, the results were actually impressive.

 

Every few minutes Isabella would jog over to him and review the newest photos, her excitement growing each time.

 

“Oh wow.”

 

She would swipe to the next picture.

 

“Oh wow.”

 

Another swipe.

 

“James, these are amazing.”

 

Meanwhile, I had somehow been promoted from photographer to luggage rack. At various points I found myself holding Isabella's sandals, sunglasses, cover-up, beach bag, jewelry pouch, and eventually even her drink. The longer the photoshoot continued, the more belongings mysteriously ended up in my hands.

 

An elderly couple passed by at one point and glanced in our direction. The woman looked at me, then at the growing mountain of accessories I was carrying, and offered what appeared to be a genuinely sympathetic smile. I wasn't entirely sure whether that made me feel better or worse.

 

The entire thing continued for nearly an hour. By the end, James was practically directing a magazine shoot while Isabella posed enthusiastically against every attractive background the beach had to offer. To make matters worse, they were clearly enjoying themselves.

 

“Oh my god, you're actually good at this,” Isabella admitted after reviewing another set of pictures.

 

“I dated an influencer once.”

 

“That explains so much.”

 

“Doesn't it?”

 

The two of them laughed together while I adjusted my grip on her belongings and stared out toward the ocean.

 

Eventually Isabella collapsed onto a beach chair and began scrolling through the gallery. Judging by the enormous smile on her face, she seemed completely satisfied with the results.

 

“I think we got enough.”

 

Relief washed over me immediately.

 

Unfortunately, it survived for less than ten seconds.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

I closed my eyes.

 

“What now?”

 

She sat upright and looked between James and me.

 

“I need a picture with both of you.”

 

Before either of us could object, she was already waving down a passing tourist. A middle-aged woman happily agreed and accepted Isabella’s phone.

 

A few moments later we were standing together in front of the ocean while Isabella positioned herself between us.

 

“Okay, everyone smile,” the woman said.

 

Several pictures were taken. When Isabella got her phone back, she immediately started reviewing them.

 

Then she laughed.

 

“Hun.”

 

“What?”

 

She turned the screen toward me.

 

“You look miserable.”

 

“I’ve spent the last hour carrying everybody’s stuff.”

 

“That’s fair,” James admitted.

 

For a brief moment I thought he was actually defending me.

 

Then he ruined it.

 

“To be fair, you've been carrying everybody's stuff since high school.”

 

The grin on his face suggested he had been saving that joke for years.

 

Isabella burst out laughing.

 

“James!”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s awful.”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

She tried to answer, but another laugh escaped first.

 

Eventually she calmed down enough to continue looking through the photos. Her smile gradually softened as she paused on one particular image.

 

“Oh, I love this one.”

 

I reluctantly leaned closer.

 

The photo showed all three of us standing together on the beach. The ocean stretched endlessly behind us beneath the bright afternoon sun. James looked relaxed and confident, like he belonged in a vacation advertisement. Isabella looked radiant, smiling brightly with one arm around each of us.

 

And I looked like I was attending a funeral.

 

For some reason, that only made her love the picture more.

 

“This one's my favorite,” she announced happily.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it feels real.”

 

I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she continued staring at the photo with an expression of genuine affection.

A few seconds later she shrugged, stood up, and stretched.

 

“Come on. I want frozen drinks.”

 

She started walking toward the beach bar without waiting for either of us.

 

James stood up.

 

I stood up.

 

And, without anyone even asking, I somehow ended up carrying all of Isabella’s things again.

 

As we followed her across the sand, I glanced ahead and watched her laughing to herself, clearly enjoying what she considered the perfect vacation.

 

The disturbing part was that, from her perspective, it probably was.

Chapter 01: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Despite everything, the beach really was beautiful.

 

The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the bright afternoon sun, waves rolling calmly across the shoreline in glittering shades of blue and turquoise. White sand burned warmly beneath my feet while the salty breeze carried distant music, laughter, and the faint smell of sunscreen and expensive perfume through the air.

 

Elegant wooden cabanas lined the coast farther down, servers walked between lounge chairs carrying colorful drinks, and groups of attractive tourists relaxed beneath oversized umbrellas while soft tropical music played somewhere nearby.

 

Meanwhile, I was struggling with towels, coolers, bags, and Isabella’s massive beach suitcase while the two of them walked ahead casually.

 

By the time I finally finished setting everything up, sweat already clung to my shirt.

 

We had claimed a spot close enough to the ocean to hear the waves clearly without risking getting splashed. I planted the umbrella into the sand while Isabella arranged towels carefully across the lounge chairs, making sure everything looked aesthetically perfect before she finally seemed satisfied.

 

“There,” she sighed happily, placing her sunglasses on top of her blonde hair for a moment while admiring the view. “This place is incredible, hun.”

 

The sunlight reflected beautifully against the gold jewelry around her wrists and neck, making her somehow look even more expensive than usual.

 

Then she smiled toward James.

 

“And thank you for joining us, James.”

 

He grinned comfortably.

 

“No, thank you. I’d probably be sitting here alone if it wasn’t for you.”

 

“We’re here to help, sir,” Isabella replied playfully.

 

James laughed softly at that while she leaned down to open her beach bag.

 

A second later her expression suddenly changed.

 

“Oh no.”

 

“What happened, babe?” I asked.

 

“I forgot sunscreen back at the hotel,” she groaned dramatically. “Can you run over to that little shop nearby and grab some for me?”

 

I glanced briefly toward James, who was already relaxing in his chair with effortless confidence, before reluctantly starting the long walk toward the beach store.

 

The sand felt unbearably hot beneath my feet.

 

And somehow, while standing in line waiting to pay, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Isabella had called him “sir” as a joke.

 

Or how naturally he seemed to fit beside her.

 

Or how comfortable she looked around him.

 

By the time I returned, my stomach already felt tight with irritation.

 

And then it got worse.

 

Much worse.

 

Isabella was lying on her stomach on the towel, sunglasses on, completely relaxed beneath the sunlight.

 

Her bikini top had been untied.

 

And James was casually rubbing sunscreen across her exposed back with slow, confident movements.

 

“Excuse me?” I said immediately.

 

Isabella lifted her head slightly.

 

“Oh, you’re back, hun,” she said casually. “Turns out James remembered he already had sunscreen with him. Huge lifesaver.”

 

“Why can’t you wait for me?” I said, looking down.

 

James barely even looked bothered.

 

“Nah, nothing serious, Peaboy,” he said lazily while continuing to spread lotion across her skin. “You were taking too longa and she mentioned being worried about UV rays damaging that gorgeous skin of hers.”

 

Isabella giggled immediately.

 

“Oh please,” she teased. “You cheap flirt.”

 

“You two are flirting now?” I asked bitterly.

 

She turned her head slightly toward me, looking genuinely confused by my reaction.

 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, hun. It’s just playful flirting.”

 

Then I looked toward the loose straps hanging from her bikini top.

 

“And why is your bikini untied?”

 

“Oh,” Isabella answered casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It helps me tan better. I hate tan lines, so I asked James to untie it for me.”

 

She smiled sweetly afterward.

 

“No big deal.”

 

Then she rested her head back down comfortably while James continued applying sunscreen across her back like they had been doing this together forever.

 

And somehow, what bothered me most was how natural they both looked.

Chapter 01: Here
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Despite everything, the beach really was beautiful.

 

The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the bright afternoon sun, waves rolling calmly across the shoreline in glittering shades of blue and turquoise. White sand burned warmly beneath my feet while the salty breeze carried distant music, laughter, and the faint smell of sunscreen and expensive perfume through the air.

 

Elegant wooden cabanas lined the coast farther down, servers walked between lounge chairs carrying colorful drinks, and groups of attractive tourists relaxed beneath oversized umbrellas while soft tropical music played somewhere nearby.

 

Meanwhile, I was struggling with towels, coolers, bags, and Isabella’s massive beach suitcase while the two of them walked ahead casually.

 

By the time I finally finished setting everything up, sweat already clung to my shirt.

 

We had claimed a spot close enough to the ocean to hear the waves clearly without risking getting splashed. I planted the umbrella into the sand while Isabella arranged towels carefully across the lounge chairs, making sure everything looked aesthetically perfect before she finally seemed satisfied.

 

“There,” she sighed happily, placing her sunglasses on top of her blonde hair for a moment while admiring the view. “This place is incredible, hun.”

 

The sunlight reflected beautifully against the gold jewelry around her wrists and neck, making her somehow look even more expensive than usual.

 

Then she smiled toward James.

 

“And thank you for joining us, James.”

 

He grinned comfortably.

 

“No, thank you. I’d probably be sitting here alone if it wasn’t for you.”

 

“We’re here to help, sir,” Isabella replied playfully.

 

James laughed softly at that while she leaned down to open her beach bag.

 

A second later her expression suddenly changed.

 

“Oh no.”

 

“What happened, babe?” I asked.

 

“I forgot sunscreen back at the hotel,” she groaned dramatically. “Can you run over to that little shop nearby and grab some for me?”

 

I glanced briefly toward James, who was already relaxing in his chair with effortless confidence, before reluctantly starting the long walk toward the beach store.

 

The sand felt unbearably hot beneath my feet.

 

And somehow, while standing in line waiting to pay, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Isabella had called him “sir” as a joke.

 

Or how naturally he seemed to fit beside her.

 

Or how comfortable she looked around him.

 

By the time I returned, my stomach already felt tight with irritation.

 

And then it got worse.

 

Much worse.

 

Isabella was lying on her stomach on the towel, sunglasses on, completely relaxed beneath the sunlight.

 

Her bikini top had been untied.

 

And James was casually rubbing sunscreen across her exposed back with slow, confident movements.

 

“Excuse me?” I said immediately.

 

Isabella lifted her head slightly.

 

“Oh, you’re back, hun,” she said casually. “Turns out James remembered he already had sunscreen with him. Huge lifesaver.”

 

“Why can’t you wait for me?” I said, looking down.

 

James barely even looked bothered.

 

“Nah, nothing serious, Peaboy,” he said lazily while continuing to spread lotion across her skin. “You were taking too longa and she mentioned being worried about UV rays damaging that gorgeous skin of hers.”

 

Isabella giggled immediately.

 

“Oh please,” she teased. “You cheap flirt.”

 

“You two are flirting now?” I asked bitterly.

 

She turned her head slightly toward me, looking genuinely confused by my reaction.

 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, hun. It’s just playful flirting.”

 

Then I looked toward the loose straps hanging from her bikini top.

 

“And why is your bikini untied?”

 

“Oh,” Isabella answered casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It helps me tan better. I hate tan lines, so I asked James to untie it for me.”

 

She smiled sweetly afterward.

 

“No big deal.”

 

Then she rested her head back down comfortably while James continued applying sunscreen across her back like they had been doing this together forever.

 

And somehow, what bothered me most was how natural they both looked.