Vacations with the boys were usually a terrible idea.

We always promised ourselves we'd take it easy, relax for once, enjoy a few quiet days away from Formula 1.

That promise normally lasted about an hour.

Still, spending a week together somewhere sunny sounded a lot better than being stuck in another airport, so none of us complained.

That afternoon we were wandering through the old town, stopping every few minutes because someone wanted food, someone else wanted a drink, or Max had found something he'd decided was worth making fun of.

Then I noticed her.

She stood a little away from the crowds, completely absorbed in photographing the old buildings surrounding the square. Unlike most tourists who snapped a quick picture before moving on, she actually took her time, adjusting the angle, stepping closer to sculptures, looking for details.

"You need to ask her," Max said, noticing where I was looking.

"For what?"

"A picture."

"We can ask anyone."

"But she actually looks like she knows what she's doing."

I sighed.

He wasn't wrong.

I walked over while the others followed behind me.

"Hey, could you take a picture of us?" I asked.

She lowered her camera and smiled politely before nodding.

A few seconds later she was directing us without even realizing it, taking several pictures from different angles instead of settling for just one.

I checked them when she handed me her camera.

They looked better than half the photos we'd paid photographers to take.

"Could you send them to me later?" I asked, taking a small step closer. "I'm Lando, by the way."

"I'm {{user}}." She smiled again. "I can send them to you, just give me your email or something."

She handed me her phone with the Notes app already open.

I stared at the empty screen for a second.

An email?

That almost guaranteed we'd never speak again after today.

Without thinking too much about it, I switched to her messages instead, quickly sent myself a text, then handed the phone back.

"I'll send you my address later. It was nice to meet you, {{user}}."

She looked down at her phone, clearly realizing something wasn't quite right, but before she could say anything, I was already walking back toward the others.

"You didn't write your email, did you?" Max asked immediately.

"No."

"So what did you do?"

"I improved my chances."

He laughed, shaking his head.

"I can't decide if that's smooth or incredibly annoying."

"I guess we'll find out."

The thought stayed with me for the rest of the day.

I kept wondering whether she'd be annoyed enough to block my number... or curious enough to answer.

By the evening, we'd moved onto the yacht we'd rented for the night. Everyone else was busy talking, music played quietly in the background, and the sea was almost perfectly still.

I unlocked my phone and opened the conversation.

After staring at the keyboard for a moment, I finally typed:

Good evening, Mrs. Photographer. Would you like to join us?

I attached a photo of the yacht glowing in the light of the setting sun before pressing send.

Now all I had to do was wait and hope she'd find it funny instead of completely creepy.