S O P H I A H O N E Y

A RESORT.

We are in a fucking resort.

When Theo told me about this trip, I made sure to check the hotels and resorts around the area, because I knew-I just knew-there was no way his dad would let us stay somewhere small or normal. He's not built that way. The man is rich, in a very "I'll buy the entire block if I don't like the lighting" kind of way.

But this?

This is on a different level.

There's building after building-each one modern, towering, and terrifying in that luxury-money-smells-different kind of way. It's glass and marble and perfect landscaping, and I swear I just saw someone getting a massage by the pool.

A massage. By the pool. At noon.

My anxiety hits a solid twelve out of ten.

I stare through the window, my eyes wide, my pulse drumming faster than it should. This is not what I prepared for. This is not what I packed for. This is not-I repeat not-what I emotionally signed up for.

A slow movement on my shoulder pulls me back from outside and I stare down at Theo who's sleeping peacefully on my shoulder.

His head is tilted slightly, his breathing steady, warm against the side of my neck. I consider nudging him awake-but I stop myself.

He didn't really relax on the plane. He kept adjusting his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee, glancing at his phone every five seconds like he was waiting for a text that never came. He didn't say anything about it, but he didn't have to. You don't need a degree in Psychology 101 to know when someone's freaking out. And I didn't need to piece much together to realize this whole trip-especially seeing his dad-has him panicking more than he'd ever admit out loud.

So, I let him rest.

We slow to a stop, the car easing into a sleek underground parking lot that honestly looks cleaner than my own room. Miles shifts in his seat and glances back, slipping his glasses off. His eyes land on Theo, still tucked into me.

For a second, he doesn't say anything. He just watches.

Then he turns fully, and yeah-I see it now.

The resemblance.

I'm not surprised. He does look like Theo.

Same sharp jawline, same kind of thick lashes that shouldn't belong to boys, same infuriatingly perfect skin. Quite handsome.

But then, without thinking, my brain goes: But Theo is more handsome.

I sigh internally.

Because it's true. And I hate that it's true. And I hate even more that I just admitted it-to myself of all people.

"He didn't sleep on the plane," Miles says, his voice softer now, a frown settling over his features. "Right?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah." My eyes flicker to Theo's sleeping form, then back to Miles. "He's been..."

"Moody," Miles finishes for me with a short nod, eyes still on his cousin. "I thought he'd relax a bit since we're not exactly seeing Uncle now, but..." He trails off with a sigh, like he knows exactly where Theo's head's been this entire time.

I don't say anything. I don't need to. The tension in Theo's shoulders even while he's asleep says enough.

Miles draws in a deep breath and forces a small smile back on his face before turning to me. "Wake him up, yeah? I'll go grab your bags."

He doesn't wait for an answer-just hops out of the car, closing the door quietly behind him.

I glance down at Theo, still fast asleep, still leaning into me like he hasn't had rest in days.

I hesitate for a second longer.

Then I gently nudge his shoulder. "Theo..."

Nothing.

"Theo..."I gently shake his shoulder again. "Wake up."

He stirs, his brow twitching slightly, then lets out the faintest groan like he's waking from something deep. His head shifts against my shoulder, his hair brushing my jaw, and I almost forget I'm supposed to be waking him.

"Hmm?" he mumbles, still half-asleep. His voice is raspy, lower than usual, and for a stupid second, I don't want him to move at all.

"We're here," I whisper. "Miles went to get our bags."

His lashes flutter before his eyes finally open, hazy and unfocused, then slowly zero in on me. His body stiffens for a second-like he just realized he was curled into me-and I prepare myself for him to shift away, to pull back and act like nothing happened.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he blinks again, then mutters, "Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"It's fine," I say quickly, too quickly. "You needed it. You didn't sleep at all on the plane."

He watches me for a second longer, like he's trying to figure something out, then finally straightens up, rubbing a hand down his face. "Thanks for letting me."

I give him a small shrug, looking out the window before my thoughts spiral too far.

Outside, the resort towers above us, warm sunlight spilling across the polished glass and white walls. I can already see the bellboys in uniform, couples dragging suitcases, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. It looks like a scene pulled out of some luxury vacation ad.

Theo follows my gaze and sighs. "Yep. We're officially here."

And I know he's not talking about the location.

"We should go," Theo murmurs, his voice still a little groggy from sleep but firm enough to make me move.

He opens the door from his side and steps out. I follow suit, slipping out of my door, and the second my feet hit the ground, the panic settles in like a fog I didn't see coming.

Girls in pastel sundresses, flowy gowns, heels clicking against pavement-all moving with the kind of grace that says they belong here. Their makeup is perfect, their jewelry subtle but expensive. It takes me two seconds to realize just how out of place I feel.

Because I don't have dresses like that. Just a couple of normal ones, ones I thought would work for a simple dinner or maybe a quiet stroll through wherever Theo's dad stuck us. I didn't expect this. I didn't expect to feel like an outsider the second I stepped out of the car.

Because I wasn't really part of this world. I wasn't part of them.

"Soph?" Theo's voice is gentle, but it cuts through the chaos in my head.

I blink, turning to him. He's standing on the other side of the car, the sunlight casting shadows on his face. He's watching me with soft confusion, like he knows something's off but isn't sure what.

"C-coming," I say, my voice too quiet, and I force my legs to move.

He tilts his head slightly as I approach. "Are you alright?"

I glance over at Miles, who has his sunglasses back on, the bags in his arms. He doesn't say anything, just stands there like he already knows this part of the story.

"I'm fine," I lie, throwing him a smile that barely holds. "Let's go."

Theo's brows pull together, but he doesn't press. Instead, he lifts a hand and stretches it out toward me.

"Come here," he says softly.

It's not a command. It's an invitation. One I'm already halfway to accepting before I realize my feet have moved.

I glance at Miles again, wondering what he thinking about all this. His expression isn't neutral or distracted-it's intentional, like he's watching, waiting for me to make a move. Like he already knows what Theo's trying to do.do.

Theo's hand is still outstretched between us, steady and patient.

I hate how my stomach twists.

I hate how I even have to think about it.

But after a few seconds, a sigh slips out of me-soft, defeated-and I finally reach forward and place my hand in his.

The moment I do, he laces his fingers through mine without hesitation, like it's second nature. Like we've done this a thousand times before.

His grip is firm. Steady. And warm.

And just like that, I feel it-the tightness in my chest loosening, my shoulders dropping the inch they've been holding up since we pulled into this place. I can finally breathe.

Like his touch flipped a switch inside me I didn't know I needed.

I tighten my grip too, holding his hand just as hard, and he gives mine a squeeze, just once. A silent reassurance. A quiet I got you.

It's crazy.

He's the one carrying the weight of this trip. The tension. The dread of seeing his father again. He's the one who should be spiraling.

But here he is-grounding me instead.

Not saying a word, but somehow saying everything.

Neither of us says a word as we begin to walk.

Theo doesn't let go of my hand, and I don't try to pull away either. Each step feels like we're moving in sync, even though my mind is still racing.

Miles silently hands the car key to one of the bellboys, who immediately heads toward the car without a word. Another staff member, dressed in sleek cream and gold, rolls a cart beside him, ready for our bags.

Everything is so seamless. So polished.

The moment we step past the glass doors of the resort, a quiet gasp escapes me.

Marble floors stretch endlessly under a chandelier that could probably pay someone's rent for a year. Water trickles softly from a fountain shaped like some kind of glass lotus at the center of the lobby. The air smells like white tea and money.

My sandals squeak slightly against the pristine floor and I feel weirdly out of place, like I should've walked in wearing silk or at least heels.

Theo gives my hand another squeeze, and I know he noticed the sound I made. But he still doesn't say anything-and somehow that's better. He lets me take it all in without asking if I'm okay.

Because honestly?

I don't even know if I am.

"Are you guys hungry?" Miles starts, his voice light and casual, and I feel ridiculously grateful for the distraction.

"Not really, but Soph might be," Theo answers smoothly, then turns his head to me. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh... um, yeah, just a little," I mutter, suddenly aware of how small my voice sounds in this giant, echoing space. For a second, I feel silly for even admitting it.

But Theo grins like it's the best answer I could've given, his eyes crinkling slightly. That kind of smile-the kind that actually reaches his eyes-does something strange to my chest.

He turns back to Miles, still smiling. "She's hungry."

Miles nods, unfazed. "Alright. I'll take you guys to your room first." He starts walking, then throws a casual glance over his shoulder. "I made sure the bed was big enough for two."

I almost trip.

Theo coughs into his fist, clearly fighting a smile, while my face warms up like it's trying to compete with the sun.

"W-We're not-" I start to say, but Miles just keeps walking like he didn't hear me.

Theo leans closer and whispers, "Don't worry. I won't steal all the covers."

I shoot a glare at Theo as we walk, still holding his hand. "I thought we'd have separate rooms."

He shrugs like it's not a big deal. "My dad doesn't know I brought a guest... and I didn't really ask you on time if you wanted to come, so..." He looks at me, a little guilty but mostly calm. "You're staying with me. Don't worry, I won't be in the room often. You can calm down."

My brows pinch slightly, and before I can stop myself, the words leave my mouth. "Where will you be then?"

I swear it wasn't supposed to come out like that-like I cared or like I wanted him there, seeing him wake up and sleep and-

Theo lifts a brow, clearly amused. "Miles' room. It's a two-bed."

I blink. "Then... why don't we just exchange? Miles stays in our room and we can stay in the two-bed-""

He doesn't even hesitate. "No."

I don't bother arguing. The way Theo's tone dropped, the slight shift in his expression when I made that suggestion-it already told me everything. He didn't like the idea. Not even for a second.

As we step into the luxurious lobby, I spot Miles already chatting with one of the receptionists. She's smiling a little too brightly, and when she hands him the key card, he pushes his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and gives her a smooth wink.

She blushes instantly.

I sigh internally. It's like flirting runs in their blood.

Miles turns back to us with a satisfied grin, holding up the key card before tossing it in a lazy arc toward Theo.

Theo catches it effortlessly with one hand and, without a word, hands it to me.

I take it, feeling too speechless-and too hungry-to do anything else. My stomach growls a little in protest as we make our way toward the elevator. Thankfully, it's not far.

We step inside the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind us with a soft whoosh. Theo and Miles immediately dive into a low conversation, their voices a quiet hum beside me. I take the opportunity to dig into my pocket and pull out my phone. The screen is dark-dead from the long flight-and I quickly power it on, already bracing myself for the flood of messages I know is waiting.

The second it starts booting up, I let my thoughts drift.

Remembering how the girls went wild the moment I told them I was going to Miami. Their excitement had been off the charts, voices overlapping as they rattled off lists of must-see spots and places I had to visit. I remember Blair saying she would send a couple of good spots she's been dreaming of going and I could take pictures and send it to her.

I wonder if Theo would mind showing me around Miami. Just a little tour... something light.

But then again-no. I doubt it. I'm here as a friend. Not a girlfriend. Not a date.

Just a friend.

That thought sits heavy in my chest for a second, and my eyes lower to where our hands are still joined. His fingers still laced with mine, his grip still warm and firm.

Friends hold hands like this, right?

Yes. Of course they do.

...Right?

God, I'm overthinking this.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open just as my phone buzzes to life in my hand. Perfect timing. We step out, and Miles begins talking about a project he's working on, clearly deep in thought.

From the way he's explaining, I catch on quickly-he's also in his final year, just like Theo.

"What's your major, Miles?" I ask, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. The silence around me is starting to feel too loud.

"Business," he says proudly, puffing his chest a little like he's announcing he just bought half the hotel. Then he turns to me with a grin, his glasses are off now so it's easier to see him. "What about you, pretty lady?"

"Photography," I reply with just as much pride, lifting my chin slightly. I don't care if people think it's not a 'real' major-it's mine, and I love it.

He cocks an eyebrow, interest piqued. "Oh really?"

"She's quite good," Theo says before I can respond, and I turn to look at him. His eyes are soft. Sincere. "Really good, actually."

My heart does this dumb little flip in my chest, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

"Really good huh?" Miles arches a brow at Theo, then looks at me again with a little more interest. "Well, if Theo here is giving you praises then you must be that good."

Theo snorts under his breath and shakes his head, but I'm still caught on what he said.

Really good, actually.

It plays over in my head. It shouldn't but it does.

"Thanks," I mumble, my voice smaller than I expected.

Miles nods, then smirks. "You know... I could really be in need of a photographer one day. Maybe you could-"

"Maybe she could do nothing," Theo cuts him off instantly, his tone calm but firm. It's not harsh, but it leaves no room for debate. He looks straight into his cousin's eyes, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifts just slightly. "Get your own photographer. She's mine."

I blink. Again and Again.

The words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on me. He didn't say it aggressively, but the finality in his voice sends a small shiver down my spine.

I glance at Theo, but his gaze is steady, unmoving, like he's done with the conversation. Like it's not even something to discuss.

Miles, to his credit, doesn't argue. He simply raises an eyebrow and smirks even wider. "Okay, okay. My bad. Didn't know she was off-limits." He shrugs, clearly entertained by the whole thing.

Theo scoffs, "Yeah, right."

"Fine, even if I did. A guy can't try?" Miles shrugs, winking at me. I hear a groan from Theo. "Calm your balls, cousin."

"I'll calm them when you stop flirting. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Does a chameleon ever get tired of going into camouflage? The answer to both questions is no, so... no."

That makes me laugh.

"See? Sophia gets it." Miles grins at me. "She's really pretty, Theo. You sure I can't-"

"Where's our room, Miles?" Theo cuts in, and Miles laughs even louder.

"It's over there." He points toward a door ahead, and Theo nods.

We head over, and Theo asks for the key card, which I hand him. He finally lets go of my hand-strangely-and slides the key card in. A green light flashes, the door clicks open, and he pushes it wide.

"Here we are," he says.

I step in, and-

Oh my.

The room is stunning. Warm, golden lighting. A huge window overlooking what looks like the beach. Crisp white sheets. Minimalist furniture, but still elegant. It smells faintly of vanilla and something luxurious I can't quite name.

And then there's the bed.

One. Large. Bed.

"I'll order food in a few seconds," Miles says, glancing at me while tapping into his phone. "Sophia, would you like a poke bowl?"

"A what?"

He laughs. "Don't worry about it. It's basically rice, avocado, and fish. Are you allergic to fish?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Perfect." He gives me a thumbs-up and presses his phone to one of his ears. "Make yourself welcome, and I'll see you at dinner."

Then he turns to Theo. "Uncle will want to know you've arrived, you know... it'll cause less trouble if you call him yourself."

I glance at Theo just as he drops our bags on the bed with a sigh. "I will."

Miles grins like he's just won a small battle. "Good. I'll let you guys rest." Then, to me, "See you at dinner, Sophia."

"Bye, Miles," I say with a small smile.

He walks out, closing the door gently behind him, and the room falls into a new kind of quiet. I turn back to Theo, who's already unzipping his duffel and pulling out neatly folded clothes.

"Pick a side," he says suddenly.

I blink. "Pick a side?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I tilt my head. "I thought you said you'd be sleeping in Miles' room."

He rolls his eyes. "I know, but just in case."

"In case what?"

He glances over his shoulder, a flicker of annoyance tugging at his expression. "Window side or the... not window side?"

I pause, eyeing the massive bed. "Uh, window side, I guess?"

He nods. "Good choice." With that, he grabs a stack of clothes from his bag and walks over to the wardrobe.

I watch him place the clothes into the space, each item folded so precisely, like it was second nature to him. It's such a simple thing-organizing clothes-but he does it with the kind of quiet control that makes it oddly mesmerizing.

Everything about him is so... well assembled.

"Is me packing my clothes that interesting to you that you keep staring so hard?" Theo teases, glancing at me with a grin that pulls easily at the corners of his mouth.

"Uh... no." I shake my head, flustered. "You're just... really good at it."

God, that sounded dumb.

His chuckle is low and smooth. "Are you praising me now? Soph, this new side is kinda strange-but thanks for the compliment."

"You're welcome?" I say, half smiling, half ready to sink into the floor.

It's awkward. But the kind that doesn't make me want to run. The good kind. The kind that makes my chest feel lighter than it should.

His chuckle deepens and his dimple flashes, catching me off guard again.

"This is why I needed you here."

My head tilts slightly. "Uh... why did you need me here?" I ask, suddenly realizing I never actually questioned it. He asked, I followed. Like I was under some kind of spell.

He doesn't look at me right away, still placing the last of his things in the wardrobe. Then he exhales quietly, his tone a little more serious now.

"You have a way of putting my head in place," he says. "It's scary you can do that... but at least it's you."

Once again, he finds a way to make me speechless. My lips part like I'm about to say something-anything-but nothing comes. I end up chewing on them instead, nervously tugging at the skin while my brain fumbles for words.

When I glance up, he's staring at my lips.

My body heats instantly and I stop biting them like I've been caught doing something scandalous.

He curses under his breath-loud enough for me to hear-and runs a hand through his hair, looking like he's seconds away from combusting.

"You're making this hard for me," he mutters.

My heart thuds.

I open my mouth again, but he clears his throat abruptly, like he needs to shake something off. "Do you have a dress for tonight's dinner?"

The change of subject is so sharp it leaves me blinking.

"I think so," I say slowly.

"You think so?" His brow arches. "Can I see it? I really don't want my dad or the rest of my relatives on your toes."

"Sure." I kneel by one of my bags and begin unzipping it. "How many relatives, by the way? I mean... I need to know what I'm walking into here."

He exhales, a mix of guilt and amusement. "I'm guessing six."

Oh, that's not bad.

"Six families at best."

Oh.

Shit.

"Wonderful," I mutter under my breath as I pull out a dark long dress. It's a little outdated, not exactly trendy, but not the worst thing I own either.

Theo takes it from me and holds it up with a slight frown. "Do you have another one?"

"Not really." I shrug. "Unless we count pajamas or a hoodie that smells like cheap perfume."

He studies the dress for another second, then glances at me. "It's not terrible," he says. "Just... I don't know. You deserve something better."

I raise a brow. "So are you saying I look terrible?"

He smirks. "I'm saying you could look lethal with the right dress."

There it is again-that low, casual charm that sends my stomach into loops.

He steps closer, lifting the dress slightly to check the label at the back, and I instantly feel heat rise to my face.

Oh God. Not the size.

I already know my size. I don't need him to confirm it.

"If it doesn't work..." I snatch the dress back from his hands and look away, clutching it against my chest like a shield. "Maybe I should just sit this one out."

"No," he says firmly, and I glance up, surprised by the seriousness in his voice.

"You're going."

"But-"

"I'll take care of it." He steps in, close enough that I can feel the shift in the air. "Trust me, okay?"

I hesitate, eyes flicking between his and the floor. I really have no other option. "I guess I will."

He frowns slightly, not satisfied.

"That's not what I want to hear." His voice softens, but there's a weight behind it. "Do you trust me, Soph?"

The way he says my name-low, patient, almost like a plea-does something weird to my chest. My fingers tighten around the fabric in my arms.

I meet his gaze. "Yeah," I whisper. "I do."

He smiles, nodding as if something has finally fallen into place. "Good." Then he grabs his phone from the bed and starts toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask, watching him with a little confusion.

"Gonna ask why the food's taking so long," he replies casually, already putting the phone to his ear. "Miles, where are you? I need you to take me somewhere and what's taking the food so long to arrive?"

His voice fades a bit as he paces near the door, then he glances back at me and mouths, "Trust me, okay?"

I nod without thinking.

His smile deepens-like my answer gave him more than just confirmation-and he slips the phone back into his pocket. "Food should be here any-"

A knock cuts him off.

He raises a brow, amused by the timing. "Come in," he calls out.

A woman in a polished uniform wheels in a silver tray, her presence tidy and professional. She greets us with a soft smile and carefully lifts the tray lids.

My jaw drops.

There it is: food. All kinds of food. Fancy, unfamiliar, colorful dishes arranged so perfectly they look like art. I don't know what most of them are-but I will be trying every single one of them.

Theo's low laugh pulls me from my daze. I glance at him, and he's standing with his arms crossed, grinning like he expected this exact reaction from me.

"Guess you're happy now."

He's not wrong.

"I am," I say, still staring at the spread.

"Enjoy," he says as he walks toward the door. "Call me if you need anything. I'll see you later."

He waves goodbye, and the woman follows him out.

Once they're gone, I sit back on the bed and pull the tray closer with a satisfied hum.

I grab the first forkful like a kid at a candy store.

Bonne appétit to me.