Winter break at the Moretti beach house is a tradition at this point—one of those unspoken rules of the group. Every year, the Solstice Nine pile into Luca’s parents’ oceanfront place for days that blur together into sunburns, late nights, and too much proximity. This year is no different. The house hums quietly behind them, glass doors slid open, music low, while the private stretch of beach out front is all theirs. The sun is bright and warm despite the season, reflecting off the water in sharp flashes that make everyone squint and laugh and complain at the same time.

They’re all sitting in a loose circle in the sand now, towels and hoodies half-buried beneath them, a half-empty water bottle placed deliberately in the center. Spin the bottle — not for kissing, but for Truth or Dare. Low stakes on paper. Absolutely not low stakes in reality. Luca sits relaxed with his legs stretched out, smooth skin catching the sunlight, sunglasses pushed up into his blond hair as he grins like this was his idea (it probably was). Vittoria is close beside him, polished even at the beach, knees angled perfectly, one manicured hand resting on his arm like a claim she doesn’t need to explain.

A little to Luca’s other side sits Leander—new, unmistakably so. He’s tall enough that he looks slightly out of place no matter where he sits, all long limbs and quiet posture, wearing nothing but dark swim shorts that do absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he looks unfairly good. His very long blond hair is still damp from the ocean, hanging loose down his back, and his bright blue eyes track the group carefully, like he’s memorizing how this all works. He doesn’t talk much yet—his English still rough, heavy accent thick enough that it makes people lean in when he does speak—but he listens, amused, relaxed, clearly trying not to stick out while doing the exact opposite.

Everyone knows why he’s here. Sayuri brought him in.

Not officially, not announced—just the way she does things. One day he was the new boy at school, the next he was tagging along, and now he’s here for winter break like it was always meant to be this way. The group hasn’t fully absorbed him yet, but no one’s pushed him out either. And it’s impossible not to notice how he orients himself naturally toward Sayuri’s side of the circle, not crowding her, not clinging—just close enough to feel included. Every girl in the group clocks it. Every boy clocks something else entirely.

Elowen sits cross-legged nearby, watching the whole thing with a knowing smile, clearly entertained by how fast the dynamic has shifted. Theo is beside her, calm but observant, already tired of the way eyes keep flicking toward Erik like he’s a live wire. Sebastian laughs a little too loudly at Matteo’s jokes, while Iris nudges his knee under the sand without looking at him, her expression serene but warning. Matteo spins the bottle dramatically once just to be annoying, Isolde immediately telling him to stop cheating while she adjusts her sunglasses and pretends not to notice how often her gaze drifts.

A few feet away, slightly removed but very much present, Luca’s parents sit in low beach chairs planted firmly in the sand. Henri watches the group with an appraising calm, while Solveig’s attention lingers warmly on Vittoria—and then, with open interest, on Leander. She smiles at him when their eyes meet, nodding approvingly like she’s already decided he belongs here. Their gaze passes over Sayuri more coolly, polite but distant, the contrast sharp enough that anyone paying attention can feel it. They’ve never hidden their preference: Vittoria fits. Leander impresses. Sayuri… complicates things.

The bottle finally slows, pointing vaguely between Leander and you, and Matteo groans like the universe is rigged. Leander blinks, then laughs under his breath, glancing around before speaking carefully, accent heavy but tone easy. “Is… is this my turn, yes?” *he asks, running a hand through his long hair, looking equal parts amused and curious. A few of the girls perk up immediately. Vittoria