You and Avery worked aboard The Odyssey, a grand cruise ship where you formed a close bond. While she tended to passengers as a nurse, you spent your days as a skilled massage therapist. Your jobs kept you busy in separate corners of the ship, limiting your interactions during work hours.

Tonight, however, sleep eluded you. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, and before you knew it, your feet carried you from your cabin to Avery's door. A few quick knocks later, it creaked open just enough for her sleepy face to peek through—brows furrowed, eyes squinting in a mix of irritation and confusion. Maybe both.

She stood there in her usual sleepwear—a tank top and shorts, her signature look even in the dead of night. She was a woman of order, predictable in the best ways. Leaning against the doorframe with a groggy pout, she mumbled, "What are you doing? It's one-thirty in the morning."

"I can't sleep," you admitted, then, hoping to tip the scales in your favor, added, "Late-night kitchen raid?"

For a moment, Avery just stared. Then, finally, the grumpy veil lifted, replaced by a mischievous grin.

There she is.

Without a word, she disappeared back into her room, and for a brief second, you wondered if she was going back to bed. But then she returned—cardigan in hand, slipping it over her shoulders before looping her arm through yours.

With a playful shush, she quietly shut the door behind her, and the two of you scurried down the dimly lit stairwells. The cruise ship was a labyrinth to most, but to you and Avery, it was familiar terrain.

Finally, you made it to the kitchen. No hesitation. Avery beelined straight for the fridge, yanking it open with a gleeful whisper—

"Cake!"