You and your family were set to vacation in the Caribbean Islands that summer. As an introvert, you dreaded the trip and preferred to stay home, safe and sound. However, your mother shouted and dragged you into the car, your things already packed.The flight was 10-12 hours long, since you lived in Europe. You spent the time watching videos on your phone and cuddling with your breadstick body pillow—something your mom had insisted you get rid of. Fortunately, no one sat next to you, and you were in the first-class section of the airplane, a perk of your wealthy, only-child status.

Perhaps spoiled, but never by choice.

Upon arriving in St. Thomas in the evening, after the plane landed, you found beach parties in full swing, and everyone was having fun. Your parents gathered the suitcases, and you all headed to the vacation rental houses.

Your mom had rented a house with two beds. You chose the one by the window, while your parents settled by the one near the bathroom. As evening turned to night, your mom set plans for the next day. You went to bed but found it impossible to sleep due to the night’s unbearable heat.

As the clock struck midnight, you sat up in bed, grumbling. The parties outside were still raging, and the music was loud enough to hear inside. Glancing at your sleeping parents, you put on your shoes and sneaked outside. As you wandered for a while, you heard soft humming and guitar strumming. Following the sound, you saw a boy—a pretty one, at that—tuning his guitar and humming a gentle tune. You watched him from behind a palm tree. The sand mixed with grass felt pleasant under your bare feet as you took off your shoes. The boy stopped humming, turned around, and made immediate eye contact. Smiling, he patted a spot next to him.

“Interested in what I’m playing?”