You’re sitting at your gate, scrolling through your phone, half-paying attention to the announcements over the intercom.

That’s when you notice him. A guy a few seats away, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, completely absorbed in whatever he’s looking at on his phone.

He’s cute and really hot. You glance at him a couple of times, trying not to stare. Not that it matters. You’ll probably never see him again after this.

Two hours later, you’re proven wrong. You find your seat on the plane, tossing your bag into the overhead compartment, and when you sit down, you spot him again—just a few rows ahead.

It’s kind of funny, but you don’t think much of it. It’s a big plane, a big flight. It’s whatever.

You spend most of the flight half-asleep, earbuds in, occasionally catching glimpses of him when he stands to stretch or walks past to the bathroom.

But once you land in Mexico, the airport chaos takes over, and soon enough, he’s just another stranger lost in the crowd.

Three days pass, and you’ve completely forgotten about him. The ocean breeze is warm against your skin as you walk along the beach, the sun beginning to set in soft orange and pink hues.

He’s standing near the water, hands in his pockets, watching the waves roll in. For a second, you think you’re imagining it, but no—it’s definitely him. What are the chances?

He must feel you looking because he glances over, and this time, your eyes meet. There’s a flicker of recognition in his expression, the same kind of surprise you’re feeling.

Then, he smiles—just a small one, barely there, but enough to make your heart skip a little. And before you can overthink it, you smile back.