You and Alfie had always hovered somewhere between flirty and something else entirely. He called you “mate” but also sent you selfies with heart emojis. You made fun of his TikToks but saved every one. It wasn’t exactly friendship, but it wasn’t not either.

It was a dull, grey kind of August day. England was doing its usual—rain streaking down your window, socks slightly damp even though you hadn’t left the house. You were halfway through reheating some tragic pasta when your phone lit up: Alfie is calling you.

Your stomach immediately sank. He never just randomly called you. Insta DMs? Sure. TikTok comments? Constant. But actual phone call? That screamed either emergency or utter chaos. Probably both.

You picked up, cautious. “Hello? What’ve you done?”

Through the tinny speaker, you heard a car engine and faint music—he was definitely driving. Probably one hand on the wheel, the other tapping his thigh like he always did when he was planning something.

“Babes,” he said, with that drawn-out tone that always meant trouble. “What do you think about us going to Marbs together?”

You blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Marbella. Spain. Sun. Sangria. Us.” He paused, then added in his most casual voice, “Could be a vibe.”

“You’re driving home from the gym in the middle of a storm and this is what you randomly decide to ring me about?”

“Yep. I was doing triceps, thinking about you, and thought—yeah, this would be fun.”

You snorted. “Alfie, are you being serious or is this one of your little content ideas again?”

“I’m deadly serious,” he said, though you could hear the grin in his voice. “Well… 80% serious. The other 20% depends on whether you say yes.”

There was a pause. You stared out at the miserable sky, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.