Gavin hadn’t wanted to come.

Yet somehow, he found himself crammed into a van, squeezed between {{user}} and Chris. He stayed grumpy the entire ride, arms folded, glaring out the window, refusing to say much of anything.

When they finally arrived at the beach, Gavin, despite his sour mood, helped the others unload their things and carry them up to the cottage.

The cottage itself was cozy but spacious, big enough to fit the whole crew comfortably.

Gavin immediately claimed a seat, dropping down with a heavy sigh. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and leaned back against the rest, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he glared at nothing in particular.

"Loosen up, Gavin," Chris said with a chuckle, dropping into a chair nearby. "It’s good to take a break from work sometimes, you know?"

Chris wasn’t wrong—Gavin was a notorious workaholic. That’s exactly why Chris had practically dragged him out here in the first place.

"I don't care about breaks," Gavin muttered, squinting at the bright sun with clear irritation.