yes to heaven - trevor zegras

The sun beat down on Ibiza, a familiar warmth that promised long, languid days. I stepped out of the taxi, the scent of summer hitting me like a wave – sun cream, salt, and the faint, sweet smell of Mr. Whippy ice cream. Our hotel, 'El Hotel Sunrise,' stood before us, gleaming white against the impossibly blue sky.

"Dotty, come and get your case!" Mum's voice cut through my reverie. I grabbed my baby pink suitcase, slung my backpack over my shoulders, and followed my parents and Sherri into the cool, marble lobby. Sherri, my older sister, was already in awe, mouth agape.

"This hotel is so pretty," she breathed. I giggled, "You're acting like you've never been to a hotel before, Ri." She rolled her eyes, "Shut up, Dorothy, this one's just cooler than ones we've stayed at before." Our usual bickering had begun before we even reached the lift, much to Mum and Dad's resigned amusement. Mum just sighed, pushing the button for 'level 2.'