The resort's "Safe Mode" was failing before the suitcases were even unzipped. The architecture of the hotel was beautiful, but the logistics were a nightmare. Because this was an officially sanctioned school trip, the room assignments followed a rigid, bureaucratic logic that didn't care about the tangled histories of the people occupying them.
"Okay, looks like we're splitting up by floor," Sarah announced, waving her key card like a tiny plastic flag. "Liam, Kianna, and I are all on three. Layla, looks like you're down on two."
Layla felt a cold prickle of unease. "Wait, who else is on two?"
She didn't need to hear the answer. She saw Jade push off from the lobby pillar, a single black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't look at the group; he just headed toward the elevators.
"Don't worry about it," Liam said, his voice a steady anchor as he gripped the handles of Layla's heavy luggage. "I'll get you settled in your room first, then I'll head up to drop my stuff off. It's just one flight of stairs, Layla. I'm right above you."
He meant it to be comforting, but as they stepped into the hallway of the second floor, the air felt different, thicker, more stagnant. Liam was talking about the view and the dinner plans, his "Golden Boy" energy filling the narrow corridor, but Layla's eyes were fixed on the room numbers.
They reached her door, and Liam began to maneuver the bags inside. Just as he was setting the last one down, a door clicked open three rooms down. Jade stepped out into the hallway. He didn't have his bag anymore. He stood there for a split second, his gaze catching Layla's over Liam's shoulder.
"You good, babe?" Liam asked, oblivious to the silent collision happening behind him.
"Yeah," Layla whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I'm good."
Dinner was set for 7:00 PM at the beachfront terrace. Layla spent an hour trying to shake the feeling of being watched through the walls. She dressed carefully, choosing a light sundress that felt like a shield, but when she stepped out of her room to head to the lobby, the hallway was empty.
She reached the elevator bank and pressed the down button. The doors slid open, and the breath left her lungs.
Jade was already inside.
He was leaning against the back wall of the small, mirrored space. He had changed into a clean black t-shirt, but he still looked like he carried the shadows of Montreal with him. Layla hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping inside. The doors hissed shut, sealing them into a space no larger than a closet.
The descent was slow. The elevator was modern, but in that moment, it felt like an ancient, airless chamber. The tropical heat from outside seemed to have seeped into the metal, or perhaps it was just the proximity.
"Hot in here," Jade said. It wasn't a question. His voice was low, vibrating through the small space and settling in the marrow of her bones.
Layla didn't look at him. She stared at the floor numbers as they flickered. 2... 1... G.
"It's the humidity," she replied, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.
"Is it?" He moved slightly, the fabric of his shirt brushing against the wall. The movement was small, but it felt like a seismic shift. "Or is it just the fact that you're trapped in a box with the one person who knows you're holding your breath?"
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to the bustling, bright lobby. The cool air of the air-conditioned lounge rushed in, but the "jolt" Jade had triggered didn't dissipate.
The terrace was glowing with fairy lights and the orange hue of the setting sun. Liam was already there, having saved a seat for her next to him. He looked like he belonged in a travel brochure, tan, smiling, and perfectly at ease.
"There she is," he said, pulling out her chair. "I was about to come look for you."
"Just a slow elevator," Layla said, taking her seat.
Across the table, Jade sat down next to Kianna. Kianna was still wearing his jacket, draped over her shoulders like a trophy. She looked over at Layla and smiled, a casual, friendly greeting that felt like a pointed blade.
"The seafood here is incredible," Kianna said, leaning into Jade. "Right, Jade?"
Jade didn't look at the menu. He didn't look at Kianna. He looked directly at Layla, his eyes dark and unreadable under the flickering candlelight.
"Incredible," he repeated, but his gaze never left Layla's face.
Layla picked up her fork, but her hands were trembling. , she was on a dream trip, and she was sitting next to the boy who loved her. But as the ocean waves crashed in the distance, all she could hear was the hum of the elevator and the sound of her own heart trying to escape her chest.
The dinner finally dissolved into a blur of planned excursions and forced laughter. Liam walked Layla back to her door on the second floor, lingering long enough to give her a kiss that felt like he was trying to stake a claim against the salty air.
"Get some sleep, okay?" he whispered, his hand resting on the doorframe. "Tomorrow we're hitting the water early. No more elevators, no more stress. Just us."
"Goodnight, Liam," Layla said, watching him head toward the stairs to join Sarah and Kianna on the third floor.
She retreated into her room, the silence of the suite feeling like a physical weight after the noise of the terrace. The air conditioning hummed, but it felt sterile. She needed the real air. She slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony, the humidity immediately clinging to her skin like a second layer of clothing.
The ocean was a vast, obsidian sheet under the moon, the waves crashing with a rhythmic, heavy thud. She gripped the railing, closing her eyes and trying to breathe in the salt instead of the "static."
Click.
The sound of a sliding door echoed from the very next room. Layla's breath hitched. She didn't have to look to know who it was. The second floor was quiet, a ghost town compared to the party happening on the third floor.
She turned her head slowly. Jade was standing there, only a few feet away, separated by a waist-high frosted glass partition. He wasn't looking at the ocean. He was leaning back against the wall of the building, a cigarette tucked behind his ear and his eyes fixed on her.
"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked. His voice was barely a whisper, but in the quiet of the night, it sounded like a shout.
"I'm just enjoying the view," Layla replied, her voice tight.
Jade let out a short, dry laugh, the kind of sound that made her skin crawl in the best and worst ways. He moved closer to the partition, leaning his elbows on the railing so that he was only a few inches from her personal space.
"The view is the same on the third floor," Jade said, his gaze dropping to where her hands were still white-knuckled on the railing. "But Liam is up there, and you're down here. Alone. In the dark."
"I'm not alone, Jade. I'm with him."
"Are you?" He tilted his head, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. "Because it looks to me like you spent the whole night trying to convince yourself of that. You can change the scenery, Layla. You can fly thousands of miles. but you're still the girl who can't look me in the eye for more than three seconds without your pulse jumping."
Layla felt the jolt again, the same electric strike that had hit her in the elevator. She wanted to go back inside. She wanted to slide the door shut and lock it. But her feet felt rooted to the concrete.
"I hope you're happy, Layla," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, echoing his words from the hallway in Montreal. "I really do. But don't pretend the humidity is the only thing making it hard to breathe right now."
He didn't wait for an answer. He turned and walked back into his room, the glass door sliding shut with a final, echoing thud.
Layla stood there for a long time, the sound of the ocean roaring in her ears. She looked up at the third floor, where the lights were still bright and Liam was probably already dreaming of catamarans and sunshine. Then she looked at the dark glass of the room next door.
The trip had just started, and Layla already felt like she was drowning in the very air she had paid so much to breathe.