The Cancun sun was brutal, but the hotel pool was perfect — turquoise water, palm trees swaying, the low hum of reggaeton from the beach bar. Y/n had claimed a lounge chair under an umbrella, half-watching some kids splash each other, half-listening to their own family argue about dinner plans.

Across the pool, a boy in sunglasses had been watching for the last hour. Not in a creepy way — just quietly, while pretending to scroll on his phone. His little sister kept shoving his shoulder.

Finally, she stood up, groaned like this was the worst favor anyone had ever asked, and marched over to Y/n.

She pointed back toward the boy with sunglasses. He had gone very still, phone frozen mid-scroll.

From across the pool, the boy raised a hand slightly, almost like a wave, then dropped it.