João scrolled through the string of messages lighting up his phone, half amused, half wary. They’d been trying to convince him for days. “You have to come up to the lake house,” one text read. “She’s here too. Single. You’ll love her,” another insisted, punctuated by too many winking emojis. He rolled his eyes but didn’t delete them.

He’d known Miguel and the others since they were kids, and they had never been subtle. The last message had come that morning, a blurry photo of the bonfire being built: “Don’t be an idiot. Just come.” Miguel said.

A part of him hesitated. He’d barely been home in months. He was used to stadium lights, charter flights, people who wanted things from him. But maybe a quiet night by the lake would feel like a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Maybe meeting someone who didn’t expect anything could be good.

By the time the sun set, he was driving along the winding roads out of town, past the pines and the black water glinting in the dark. He parked by a row of other cars, the sound of voices carrying over the crackle of firewood. For a second, he stayed in the driver’s seat, breathing in the smell of smoke and summer.

When he finally got out and walked up the gravel path, he spotted Marco first, waving like an idiot. The others turned to look, their faces lit in firelight. He gave a nod to Marco, then to the rest of the group, before his eyes found the only person who hadn’t been introduced yet.

He sat down in the empty chair beside you.