The morning sun peeked through the blinds, dragging me reluctantly from sleep. My body ached, my foot throbbed in its heavy boot, and my mind buzzed with the overwhelming list of things I had to get done before the Costa Rica trip on Monday.

I shuffled out of bed, catching sight of Isabella already sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. She had the energy of someone who had already planned the entire day in her head—and judging by the way she was grinning at me, I knew she was about to launch into it.

"Good morning, my little hobbling traveler!" she chirped, putting her mug down. "Are you ready for an adventure-packed day of shopping, smoothies, and me lecturing you about packing properly?"

I groaned, plopping down on the chair across from her. "Do I have a choice?"

"Absolutely not." She grabbed a notepad from the counter and flipped it open. "We have sunscreen, flip-flops, light clothes, bug spray, and—oh! A cute bathing suit, even if you're just going to lounge by the pool in Costa Rica."

I raised an eyebrow. "You realize I'm wearing a boot, right? Pool lounging isn't exactly in the cards."

Isabella waved me off. "We'll accessorize the boot. I'm thinking tropical stickers or maybe a little lei."

I snorted. "Please don't."

The mall was bustling with weekend shoppers, the air buzzing with chatter and the faint aroma of pretzels and cinnamon rolls. Isabella was in her element, weaving through racks of clothing with the precision of a seasoned pro. I, on the other hand, hobbled behind her like a reluctant pack mule, clutching my boot awkwardly as I tried not to trip over anything.

"First stop, sundresses!" Isabella declared, grabbing my arm and dragging me into a store filled with breezy, colorful options.

I let her rummage through the racks while I stood awkwardly by the entrance, feeling like a fish out of water. Every now and then, she'd hold up a dress with a flourish, tilting her head dramatically.

"This one says, 'I'm here to conquer the rainforest in style,'" she said, holding up a bright green maxi dress.

I raised an eyebrow. "Does it also say, 'I'm trying to blend in with the foliage?'"

"Funny," she shot back, shoving it into my arms. "Try it on."

In the fitting room, I slipped on dress after dress, each one more flowy and tropical than the last. Isabella would clap excitedly every time I emerged, twirling me around like I was a mannequin.

"This one screams 'beach goddess,'" she said, snapping a picture of me in a white sundress with delicate lace trim.

"I look like I'm about to attend a wedding," I muttered, but even I had to admit it was pretty.

"Exactly!" Isabella grinned. "Now imagine it with a tropical drink in your hand. Perfect."

After what felt like hours of endless shopping, we finally made our way to the smoothie shop for a much-needed break. I sank into a chair with a sigh, resting my booted foot on the edge of my bag while Isabella ordered for us.

As I fiddled with my phone, a familiar voice made me stiffen.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Sugar Plum Fairy."

I looked up to see Kyle—Bryan's best friend—standing near the counter, holding a bright pink smoothie cup. He was grinning in that infuriating way of his, his shaggy hair slightly tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Kyle," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What a surprise."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

"Shopping," I said, gesturing to the mountain of bags at my feet. "You know, for the trip."

He glanced at my boot, his grin widening. "And what's with the stylish footwear?"

"Fashion statement," I deadpanned.

"Ah," he said, nodding sagely. "Nothing says 'tropical vacation' like orthopedic chic."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the input."

Before he could say anything else, Isabella swooped in, two smoothies in hand. She immediately narrowed her eyes at Kyle. "Are you bothering Amber?"

"Bothering?" Kyle said, feigning innocence. "I'm just making conversation."

"Uh-huh," Isabella said, handing me my smoothie. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Kyle grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Not really. But I'll leave you two alone. Good luck in Costa Rica, Amber."

With a wink, he strolled off, leaving me groaning into my smoothie.

"Why is he like that?" I muttered.

"Because he's friends with Bryan," Isabella replied, taking a sip of her drink. "It's like they all have a PhD in being annoying."

Our next stop was a travel essentials store, where Isabella buzzed around like a kid in a candy shop. She tossed items into the cart with abandon—mini toiletries, portable chargers, travel-sized snacks—while I tried to keep up.

"You're buying enough for a month-long expedition," I pointed out, eyeing the growing pile.

"Better over-prepared than under-prepared," she said firmly. "What if you need bug spray at 2 a.m. or a mini sewing kit for an emergency?"

I gave her a look. "Is this Costa Rica or the apocalypse?"

"Both," she said, grabbing a foldable sun hat and plopping it on my head. "Now, smile for the cameras, adventurer!"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help laughing.

By the time we got in the taxi, I was ready to collapse. I stared out the window, my mind racing.

Costa Rica was supposed to be exciting. Ten days of tropical adventures, a break from the constant stress of school and rehearsals. But all I could think about was my foot—the activities I'd miss, the rehearsals I wouldn't attend, and the fact that I'd be sharing a room with Bryan.

The memory of our fight still lingered, sharp and heavy. I couldn't understand how he could go from being so kind—pulling me out of the pool, shielding me from the cold—to throwing those words at me like they meant nothing.

"Maybe you really don't belong here."

I clenched my hands into fists, willing the thought away.

"You're quiet," Isabella said, glancing at me as we stopped at a red light. "What's up?"

"Just... thinking," I said, shrugging.

"About Bryan?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" I said quickly, my cheeks heating.

She grinned knowingly. "Uh-huh. Sure. Well, don't let him ruin your trip. You're going to have fun, boot and all."

I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Izzy."

She reached over to pat my arm, her grin softening. "Anytime, bestie."

As the car pulled into the dorm parking lot, I let out a long breath. Monday was coming fast, and I wasn't sure how ready I was. But at least I knew I wouldn't be facing it alone.

The clock on my phone read 1:07 a.m., but the dorm was far from quiet. Isabella was darting around the room, muttering to herself as she checked my bags for the third time. Clothes were strewn across my bed, a stack of toiletries balanced precariously on the desk, and my carry-on bag sat half-zipped on the floor.

"Okay, let's go over this one more time," Isabella said, holding up a notepad she'd scribbled my packing list on. "Do you have your passport?"

"Yes," I said, holding it up.

"Travel itinerary?"

"In my backpack," I replied.

"Bug spray?"

"Top pocket of the suitcase."

"Snacks?"

"In the front compartment."

"Amber, do you realize that if you forget something, I won't be there to save you?" she asked dramatically, waving the notepad in my face. "I can't exactly fly to Costa Rica to deliver your sunscreen."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help smiling. "I'm not going to forget anything, Izzy. You've basically packed my entire life for me."

"Exactly," she said, tossing the notepad onto my bed. "Which is why we're triple-checking."

As Isabella rifled through my suitcase again, I double-checked the items on the desk. My phone charger, earbuds, and a small notebook for journaling were already packed. My wallet sat next to a bottle of water, ready to go into my carry-on.

"Amber, you're going to love Costa Rica," Isabella said as she folded and refolded a sweater. "I mean, I'll be crying in my pajamas here, but still—you'll be ziplining and hiking through rainforests."

I winced, glancing at the boot leaning against my bed. "Yeah, about that... I won't be ziplining or hiking."

Isabella paused, her hands mid-fold. "Oh. Right."

I sighed, flopping onto my bed. "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm going. I'll just be sitting on the sidelines while everyone else has fun."

"Amber, stop," she said firmly, sitting down beside me. "You're going because it's a once-in-a-lifetime trip. Even if you're not doing all the crazy activities, you'll still have an amazing time. Plus, you'll have plenty of time to rest your foot. It'll heal faster with less pressure on it."

I bit my lip, trying to let her words sink in. "I just... I don't know. I feel like I'm going to miss out."

Isabella wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "You're not missing out. You're just doing things differently. And anyway, I bet Bryan will be too busy showing off to notice you're not ziplining."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. Sharing a room with him is going to be so fun."

Her grin turned mischievous. "Well, at least you'll have front-row seats to his shirtless morning routine."

"Isabella!" I exclaimed, swatting her arm as my cheeks flushed.

"What?" she said innocently. "I'm just saying, if you're going to be stuck with him, you might as well enjoy the view."

I buried my face in my hands, laughing despite myself. "You're ridiculous."

It was 4 a.m., and the terminal was alive with the kind of quiet chaos that only early-morning flights could bring. Sleep-deprived faces shuffled through the airport, coffee cups in hand, while the dull hum of announcements droned in the background.

I stood near the gate with the rest of the Spanish class, clutching my boarding pass and trying not to look as nervous as I felt. Most of the students were chatting in small groups, their excitement buzzing softly in the air. I, on the other hand, lingered awkwardly on the outskirts, nursing my travel anxiety and glancing occasionally at Bryan, who stood a few feet away, laughing with some of his friends.

Since the fight during tutoring, we hadn't spoken—not even when I babysat Lily. He hadn't made an effort, and honestly, neither had I. But now, we were about to spend ten days in close quarters, and the thought made my stomach twist.

"Amber, you good?" one of the students asked as they passed me.

"Yeah," I lied, managing a small smile.

When I finally boarded the plane, I was relieved to find my seat near the back. A window seat—my favorite. At least I'd have the view to distract me.

As I slid into my spot and adjusted my boot, I heard a voice beside me. "Looks like we're seat buddies."

I glanced up and nearly did a double take.

The guy next to me had that kind of effortlessly cool look—messy blond hair that peeked out from under a baseball cap, a sharp jawline, and strikingly bright eyes. He wore a casual hoodie under a varsity-style jacket, his whole vibe radiating laid-back confidence.

"Oh, hi," I said, slightly flustered.

"Ethan," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

"Amber," I replied, shaking his hand lightly.

He smiled, settling into his seat. "First time going to Costa Rica?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "You?"

"Same. I've been looking forward to it for weeks. How about you?"

I hesitated, my thoughts flashing to the boot, the missed activities, and the impending room-share disaster with Bryan. "It's... complicated."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Complicated how?"

"Let's just say I wasn't expecting to spend the trip in this," I said, gesturing to the boot.

"Ouch," he said, wincing sympathetically. "That's gotta suck. What happened?"

"Dance injury," I explained. "Right before the trip, too. Great timing, huh?"

"Well, look on the bright side," he said, grinning. "You've got the best seatmate on the plane."

I laughed, his easy going nature already putting me at ease. "I'll take your word for it."

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Ethan turned to me again. "So, what do you do when you're not injuring yourself on the dance floor?"

"Studying languages," I said. "Spanish, obviously."

"Ambitious," he said, nodding. "I'm just here to scrape by in Spanish and play baseball."

"Baseball?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Not exactly the same as ballet, but we both have to be on our feet, so... solidarity?"

I chuckled. "I'll take it."

The conversation flowed easily from there. Ethan was funny and charming without trying too hard, and I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks. He told me about his dog, a golden retriever named Max, and his disastrous attempts at cooking, which had resulted in several small kitchen fires.

"And that's why I live on takeout now," he concluded, shaking his head.

"Remind me never to let you near a stove," I teased.

"Hey, I'm great at microwaving," he said, grinning.

For a while, I almost forgot about Bryan—until I glanced up during a lull in the conversation and saw him walking down the aisle. His eyes scanned the rows, landing briefly on me. His gaze flicked to Ethan, who was leaning closer to show me something on his phone, and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

He didn't stop walking, but the look lingered, and I felt my stomach twist—not in the same nervous way as before, but in a way I couldn't quite place.

"Bryan is a friend of yours?" Ethan asked, noticing my glance.

I hesitated. "Something like that."

Ethan didn't press, for which I was grateful.

By the time the plane landed, Ethan and I were practically friends. He'd kept me entertained through the turbulence and even managed to make me forget about my foot for a while.

As we exited the plane and waited for our luggage, Ethan turned to me. "So, what's the first thing you're doing when we get there?"

"Probably finding a way to rest my foot," I admitted.

"Well, if you need a distraction, let me know," he said, flashing another easy smile. "I'm great at those."

"Thanks," I said, smiling back.

As we parted ways at the baggage claim, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.