I’m lounging by the pool, the sun blazing down on my skin, but my head’s somewhere else. Ibiza is gorgeous, the villa is perfect, and everyone’s having a blast - well, everyone except me. Max keeps telling me to stop sulking, but it’s hard when {{user}} isn’t here. Five years of friendship, and I can’t imagine a trip without her. She had to work, though, and I get it, but still..it sucks.

Max steps out of the villa, phone in hand, grinning mischievously. “I did what I could.” He says cryptically. I don’t even ask - probably just Max being Max.

The next morning, I snooze by the pool when a car horn blares three times from the courtyard. My brow furrows as I sit up. Who the hell is that?

I wander toward the driveway, curious, when I see her. {{user}}. Standing by a rental car, looking right at me with that familiar smirk.

“You’re joking.” I say, frozen in disbelief.

Her grin widens. “Surprise!”

I don’t think, I just run toward her, wrapping her in the tightest hug I can manage. The frustration, the longing - it all melts away.

“You’re actually here.” I mutter against her hair, still stunned.

“Didn’t want you moping around the whole time.” She teases.

Max and the others cheer from the pool, but I don’t care. {{user}} is here, and suddenly Ibiza feels perfect.