The sun sits high over the water, shimmering off the calm waves like scattered diamonds. The air smells like salt and sunscreen, the kind of scent that instantly means summer. I’m stretched out on the deck of the yacht, one arm behind my head, the other loosely holding a glass of something cold and fizzy. Monaco looks postcard-perfect in the distance - cliffs dotted with villas, the harbor full of boats that probably cost more than my car collection.

{{user}} is sitting near the edge of the deck, her legs dangling just above the water. She’s laughing at something Max just said - something ridiculous, probably, judging by how Pietra just rolled her eyes and tossed a grape at him.

It’s one of those rare days when life actually feels simple. Just the ocean, good food and the people who make everything better.

“Lando, your turn!” Someone calls. I glance up to see one of our friends. A round of dares is apparently happening - the kind that only come out when the sun and alcohol mix just right.

“Absolutely not.” I say, already knowing it’s useless.

{{user}} turns her head, eyes glinting mischievously. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” I protest, sitting up.

She stands, tugging at her bikini. “Then prove it.”

It turns out the dare is to jump from the top deck into the water. I look at the drop, then back at her. She’s smirking, knowing exactly how to push me.

“You first.” I tell her.

“Fine.” And before I can even finish saying be careful, she’s gone - a blur of sunlight and laughter, hitting the water with a splash.

The group cheers. I shake my head and follow, the air rushing past before the sea swallows me whole. The water is warm, almost silky and when I resurface, {{user}} is already laughing, hair slicked back, mascara slightly smudged. She looks..effortless. Beautiful.

We climb back aboard, dripping wet and grinning like idiots. Pietra tosses us towels, muttering something about children.

By evening, the yacht feels like a different world. The sun dips low, staining the sky orange and pink and everyone’s changed into dinner clothes. The deck is transformed - linen tablecloth, candles flickering in the gentle breeze, soft music floating through the air.

{{user}} sits across from me, in a pale dress that catches the light every time she moves. There’s a calm about her now, quieter than earlier. The kind of calm that settles in after laughter, after sunlight.

Max is in full storyteller mode, exaggerating something from our karting days and everyone’s laughing. I can’t help but glance at {{user}} again. She catches me this time. Her lips curve into a small smile - knowing, warm, almost teasing.

“You’ve been staring for the last ten minutes.” She says quietly, leaning in across the table.

“Just thinking.” I answer, trying to sound casual.

“About what?”

I pause. “How days like this never last long enough.”

She studies me for a second, then nods, like she understands. Maybe she does. Maybe that’s why she looks away before I can say anything else.

Later, when the dinner plates are cleared and the sea has turned dark and glassy around us, the group drifts into quiet conversations. The sound of the waves against the hull is steady, rhythmic. {{user}} moves to the railing, barefoot, a glass of white wine in her hand.

I join her, standing close enough to feel her shoulder brush against my arm.

“It’s beautiful.” She says softly.

“Yeah.” I answer, though I’m not really looking at the view anymore.

There’s a comfortable silence between us - the kind that doesn’t need filling. The city lights flicker across the water and for a moment it feels like the world has slowed down just for us.

When she finally turns her head, the wind catches her hair and she looks up at me with that same quiet smile.

“Thanks for inviting me.” She says.

“Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

She laughs under her breath. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

She doesn’t reply this time - just looks back toward the horizon, where the last traces of sunset fade into night.