The trip had been months in the making.

It started as a drunken idea—slurred between rounds of shitty beer in Jesse’s cramped apartment—some half-assed fantasy about ditching responsibilities, escaping the monotony of work and bills and real life. But somehow, against all odds, they’d all actually made it happen.

Ellie had been the one to hunt down the beach house, scouring rental sites with the same intensity she usually reserved for arguing about Star Wars or picking fights with guys twice her size. "Look at this fucking place," she’d said, shoving her laptop in your face, eyes alight. "Cheap as hell, right on the water, and—oh, fuck yeah—it’s got a fire pit. We’re going."

And now here they were.

The house was a sun-bleached, slightly crooked thing, its wooden siding worn smooth by years of salt and wind. The porch sagged in the middle like it was tired of holding itself up, and the door screeched like a dying animal every time someone pushed through it. But it was perfect.

Inside, the place smelled like sunscreen, spilled liquor, and the faint ghost of old cigarettes. The fridge hummed like it was on its last legs, stocked with cheap beer and whatever snacks Dina had panic-bought at the gas station on the way there.

Outside, the ocean stretched forever, swallowing the last of the daylight. The air was thick—warm and sticky, clinging to skin like a second layer. The distant crash of waves could be heard. Ellie was perched on the porch railing, barefoot, her legs swinging lazily over the edge. A half-crushed beer can dangled from her fingers, her other hand gesturing wildly as she talked.

"—and then the fucking seagull just—bam—steals the whole goddamn sandwich right out of his hand," she cackled, nearly losing her balance as she mimed the attack. "You should’ve seen Jesse’s face, man. Priceless."

Behind her, the chaos of the first night was already in full swing. Dina and Jesse were wrestling over the aux cord. And someone had already managed to break something.

Ellie turned to you, her grin crooked, sunburn already blooming across her nose. "So," she said, nudging her knee with her foot. "You gonna sit here all night, or are we ditching these assholes before they start another fucking mosh pit?" She held out her hand, palm up, calloused fingers still sticky from whatever sugary bullshit she’d been drinking. "I know a place."