The last morning on the beach arrived like a bittersweet sigh.
The sky was a perfect wash of pale blue, and the waves rolled in slow and rhythmic, like even the ocean didn't want them to leave. The house buzzed with soft packing chaos—zippers, shuffling, people yelling about missing flip-flops.
They were leaving by sunset.
But not before one last hurrah.
"Beach volleyball!" Renee declared, hands on her hips, sunglasses perched like a crown. "We're going full vacation cliché."
"I've literally never played," Eliana said, dragging a cooler through the sand.
"Doesn't matter," Renee said. "This is not about skill. It's about glory."
Nicky stood behind her dramatically, arms spread. "And about my ass looking incredible when I jump."
"Also that," Renee said.
Eliana laughed, dusting sand off her thighs.
She had thrown on her last clean bikini—a slate gray one with thin straps, a bit more daring than what she'd usually wear, but after a week of sun, ocean, and being around Valeria's constant hot-girl energy, her shame had sort of melted off. Sort of.
They started warming up in chaotic clusters. Elias was already trying to spike a ball into the ocean. Valeria was wearing glittery sunglasses and holding a mimosa while declaring herself the "Referee of Vibes." Luca stood beside Eliana, sunscreen in hand like the mother of the group, applying it on her back with focused care.
"You still haven't started on the lineup sheets," he muttered in her ear as he rubbed sunscreen between her shoulders. "We have fittings Tuesday."
"I know," Eliana said, biting back a groan. "I haven't looked at a single email. I'm scared."
He clicked his tongue. "We're going to die. The interns are going to unionize."
She laughed. "It's fashion week. Everyone's dying."
He pressed a hand to her shoulder, soft for a second. "You okay?"
"Honestly?" She exhaled. "No."
He nodded. "We'll get through it. Like always."
Luca had been her anchor since she started working for him. One of the few people who saw her clearly—beyond the surface, beyond the giggles and good-girl energy. He was dramatic, exacting, impossible to please in the studio—but out here?
He was family.
"But for now," Luca added, stepping back, "vacation."
Renee came strutting over, waving a hand in front of their faces. "Absolutely not. I will physically hurl you both into the ocean if you say the word 'fitting' one more time. We are beach trash today. Live it."
"Yes, dictator of leisure," Luca said, raising his hands.
Renee grabbed the ball. "Teams! Me, Elias, and Eliana—versus the rest of you stylish traitors."
Eliana blinked. "Why me?"
"Because you're hot, and I like balance in my aesthetic."
Valeria called out, "Unfair! Her tits give her aerodynamic advantage!"
Renee snorted. "You literally have doctor boobs, shut up."
Valeria posed with both hands under her chest. "Exactly. We paid for this aerodynamic engineering."
The game started like a comedy sketch. Balls flying into the water. Elias diving dramatically for every shot and missing. Eliana got the hang of it faster than she expected, her body light, her laugh bubbling out without restraint.
They were mid-rally, sand flying under their feet, Eliana lunging to meet the ball—when it happened.
Snap.
The thin strap of her top gave out, like it had been waiting for this betrayal. The whole thing slid down as she moved.
And there she was.
Flashing the entire beach.
Time stopped.
Eliana froze. The ball landed forgotten in the sand. A gull cried somewhere overhead.
"Holy shit," Elias breathed. "That's a damn Renaissance painting."
"OH MY GOD," Eliana gasped, yanking her top up, scrambling to cover herself, face blazing red. "Did—everyone—saw that, right!?"
"Absolutely," Renee said with awe. "You just gave us all a free show. Thank you, honestly."
"I'm going to die," Eliana whispered.
Valeria sauntered up, sunglasses still on, mimosa still in hand. "Okay, but real talk? Your tits are perfect. Like—if I didn't love my surgeon, I'd be showing him you for reference."
"Please stop talking about my boobs," Eliana begged, pulling on the first towel she could find.
Renee cackled. "Look at her! Modest Queen. Meanwhile, I flash my boobs on purpose and no one claps for me."
And then—Renee pulled her top down.
Right there. In protest.
"Oh my god," Elias muttered. "It's a titty revolution."
"I will get my recognition!" Renee shouted to the heavens.
"I've been with boys for the last four months," Elias said, dazed. "But with that body—Eliana could have me switching teams again."
Everyone turned on him at once.
Luca, hands on hips. "Say one more word and you're sleeping outside."
"Valeria and I will end you," Renee added casually.
Nicky strolled back from the cooler, drinking out of a coconut and looking fabulous. "What did I miss? Are we objectifying Eliana?"
"She flashed us," Renee said.
"Icon," Nicky said immediately, nodding. "Love that journey for her."
"She's embarrassed," Luca said. "So keep it moving."
Nicky gasped and flung an arm around Eliana's shoulders. "My sweet, tragic, hot-bodded angel, do you know how many people pay good money to get accidentally viral like this? You're a blessing."
Eliana groaned. "You're all the worst."
"You love us," Renee sing-songed.
Valeria raised her mimosa. "To the beach. And to Eliana's boobs—natural wonders of the modern world."
They all clinked whatever they were holding in her direction.
And even though her face was still on fire, Eliana laughed. A real laugh. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. Her stomach ached from it all.
The game resumed, even worse than before. Elias was flustered. Renee was still topless. Valeria was now "supervising only." Luca refused to play but did yell fashion critiques from a beach chair like a deranged sports commentator.
And Nicky?
Nicky played on the other team—badly. Dramatically. Falling in the sand, yelling "OW!" when he got hit in the leg and flopping like a soccer player.
He was being extra. On purpose.
He was making her laugh on purpose.
And she adored him for it.
Later, when they all collapsed in the sand, sweaty and sun-warmed, Eliana lay on her back beside Nicky, hearts still racing.
"Thanks for the save," she whispered.
He turned his head to look at her, sunglasses pushed up into his curls. "Anytime. But honestly, El, if I had your rack? I'd never wear shirts again."
She burst out laughing, tossing sand at him. "You're the worst."
"And I'm gay, which makes my opinion objective and pure."
He grinned at her. That same grin that made her insides flip, even when she tried to tell herself she didn't feel that way anymore.
Even when she knew he wasn't hers to want.