France was hot. Too hot.
The air was thick with heat by the time you stepped out of the car. Warm, dry, French sun settled on your skin like a heavy blanket, and the scent of lavender drifted in on the breeze. Someone had already cracked open a bottle of wine — you could hear your dad’s laugh somewhere nearby, booming through the trees. Kids were screeching in the background, someone had music playing, and your cousin was shouting about the bags being left behind.
And right behind you, James, your half brother, slammed the car door shut and groaned.
“Fourteen hours in a car, and this is what I get? Sunburn and a bloody hill to drag my suitcase up?”
“You didn’t even drive,” you muttered, dragging your own suitcase over gravel.
Will was already halfway to the villa, bag slung casually over his shoulder, head tipped back as he took it all in.
“Oi,” James called out. “Save me a bed that doesn’t have springs poking through my spine, yeah?”
Will turned slightly, shot a grin over his shoulder. “Only if I don’t claim the double first.”
You tried not to watch him too hard — the way his shirt clung to his back, slightly damp with sweat. The sunglasses hooked into his collar. The relaxed way he walked, like he already owned the place.
Your older cousin, a girl, caught up beside you, nudging you with her shoulder. “He’s fit.”
You glared at her. “Don’t.”
“What?” she laughed. “I’m just saying. If I were three years younger—”
You rolled your eyes, speeding up to catch Will, mostly so she wouldn’t say anything else.
The villa was big — airy and pale stone with high wooden beams and tiled floors cool under your feet. The rooms were open plan, scattered with mismatched cushions and dusty bookshelves. Your dad was already unpacking beers into the fridge. Your step-mum was telling your younger cousin to stop climbing the spiral stairs like Spider-Man. Your niece was shrieking about her goggles.
You reached the room first — a double bed shoved against the wall and one wide window with cracked shutters.
Will leaned against the doorframe behind you. “So. We sharing?”
You turned, cheeks already warm. “Depends. You snore?”
He gave a smug little shrug. “Only when I’ve been dreaming about you.”
You groaned, pushed past him, and flopped on the bed. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re secretly obsessed with me,” he shot back, sitting down beside you with that same stupid smirk.
Later — by the pool
You were sitting at the edge of the pool, legs in the water, a fizzy drink sweating on the tile next to you. The sun was just starting to dip, throwing warm gold over the water.
James cannonballed in beside you, soaking your hair.
You cursed loudly. “You dickhead!”
“Language,” Sam called lazily from her sun lounger.
Will appeared behind you, dripping and barefoot, hair a wet mess. “You looked hot.”
“I was hot.”
He crouched behind you, his arms resting on his knees, close enough that you could feel the water off his skin hitting your back.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
You didn’t look at him. “Have not.”
You finally looked at him. His hair was still slicked back from the pool, face flushed from the heat. For a moment, he looked less like Will the YouTuber, and more like Will — the one you used to trail after as a kid. The one who stole your toys, your sweets, and maybe now… your peace of mind.