One minute, you’re on the couch in the Lisbon Airbnb, wrapped in Drew’s hoodie, minding your business and mentally preparing to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. And the next minute you’re being half-dragged out the door.

Outside, you’re squinting at the sun like it personally offended you, being tugged down the street by Madelyn, while Carlacia yells something about “fresh air being good for your soul.”

“I didn’t agree to this,” you mutter.

Madison turns around with her usual smile. “It’s just a short walk on the beach.”

You narrow your eyes. That exact sentence has preceded at least three traumatic hikes and one canoeing trip you’re still emotionally recovering from.

Now you’re halfway down the shore, sand in your shoes, your legs already aching, and you are very much not having a good time.

Carlacia, Madison, and Madelyn are now way ahead, deep in some chaotic gossip session that includes a lot of squealing and dramatic reenactments. Chase and JD are a little behind them, taking turns doing terrible British accents for some reason. And then there’s Drew — walking right beside you, laughing like you’re a whole comedy show.

“Why are you laughing?” you snap, out of breath. “I’m literally dying.”

“You just said the sun has an attitude,” he says, still grinning.

“Well, it does.”

You stop walking and plant your feet in the sand. “I am seconds away from faking a dramatic fainting spell and making you carry me.”

Drew barely even hesitates. “You don’t have to fake it. Hop on.” He turns his back to you, crouching just enough so you can climb on.

“Ugh. Fine.” You sigh like it’s a huge burden, but truthfully? You love it. This is just… you and Drew. He’s always pulling you into playful headlocks, resting his chin on your shoulder, hugging you for no reason. You wear his clothes more than your own at this point. It’s a weirdly physical, slightly questionable, but deeply comforting kind of friendship.

You climb onto his back, arms wrapping loosely around his shoulders. He lifts you like it’s nothing, hands hooked under your thighs to keep you steady. You rest your chin on his shoulder, cheek brushing against the side of his face.

“You good?” he asks, glancing at you with that half-smile.

“Much better,” you murmur.

He turns his head to give you a quick kiss on the cheek without even thinking before he continues to walk, steady and strong like you don’t hand on his back like a koala.