Chapter 54

NOTE FROM MEOWINGHAM: Hey y'all. I just wanted to say that I'm extremely grateful for your support and patience. I know what has been happening around FY :') and I do hear some concerns from a few of you as to whether this novel will continue (plus my lack of consistent updates, SOBS IM SORRY) but yes–I want to reassure you that this story will continue. So, don't worry! And yes, I hear you. I'll definitely try to update as much as I can, or at least bring back the habit of daily or  at least weekly updates.

So, anyway, enjoy.

Yoko

If someone had told me that standing in the freezing school courtyard at 5 AM with half my luggage digging into my leg was going to be part of my high school experience, I would've laughed in their face.

But here I am.

It's still dark out, the sky just barely hinting at the arrival of dawn, and the school grounds feel eerily quiet—except for the growing hum of students gathering, all of us dressed in hoodies and travel-ready outfits, bleary-eyed and running on the bare minimum amount of sleep.

Today is different.

Today is the day we leave for Edinburgh.

The excitement should be enough to keep me awake, but unfortunately, my body has other plans.

Marissa, of course, is already buzzing like she personally downed four espressos before arriving. She's practically vibrating as she bounces on her feet, talking a mile a minute about everything—what she packed, what she plans to do the moment we land, what snacks she brought.

I barely register half of what she's saying because my brain is fighting to stay conscious.

Ink, standing next to me, lets out a chuckle. "You look like a zombie."

I grunt in response, shifting on my feet and leaning against her shoulder, my body sagging with exhaustion. "I am a zombie," I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ink snickers, but she doesn't push me off. Instead, she casually adjusts her stance to accommodate my weight, letting me rest against her as she chats with Big and Marissa.

I close my eyes, just for a second, letting their voices blur into white noise.

"Yoko, you better not actually fall asleep standing up," Marissa warns, her voice amused but also very serious.

"She totally will," Ink adds, nudging me slightly. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Shhh," I murmur, not even opening my eyes. "Wake me when we're leaving."

"Oh, don't worry, babe," Ink teases. "I'll wake you up when Ms Tall-and-Cold walks by."

That instantly gets my attention.

My eyes snap open, and I immediately scan the crowd, my heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of Faye.

Ink bursts out laughing. "Wow. Look at that reaction speed."

Big and Marissa join in, their laughter echoing through the quiet courtyard but they are laughing at something else.

"Shut up," I grumble, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Just then, the teachers start calling for us to board the bus, and finally—finally—some energy seeps into my limbs.

I straighten up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I adjust my bag strap.

And then I see her.

Faye, standing near the bus, clipboard in hand, her hair perfectly tied up, looking so effortlessly put together despite the ungodly hour.

Even in the dim morning light, she glows.

My body moves before my brain catches up, my feet carrying me forward, my heart hammering against my ribs as I close the distance.

Yeah.

I'm awake now.

I take my sweet, sweet time loading up the bus.

My friends are already ahead, shoving their bags into the storage compartment, cracking jokes about who's going to get stuck in the worst seat. Marissa is arguing with Big about window privileges, and Ink is standing there, arms crossed, smirking like she already knows she's going to win somehow.

But me?

I'm strategically lagging behind.

Because why rush when I have a perfectly good excuse to watch my literature teacher—girlfriend—be effortlessly hot at five in the morning?

Faye stands a few steps away, clipboard in hand, her black cap pulled low over her specs, strands of black hair peeking out from beneath it. Her oversized white button-up is casually unbuttoned at the top, revealing just enough of her collarbone to make my brain short-circuit. Paired with those perfectly fitted flared jeans and her ever-present calm aura, she looks like she just walked out of a fashion editorial effortlessly.

And I am suffering. It's almost unfair. I can't stop staring.

She must feel me staring too because, at that exact moment, she glances in my direction.

And my dumbass freezes.

I whip my head around so fast I probably get whiplash, pretending to be very interested in my suitcase.

Oh my god. Yoko, get it together.

I can hear Ink snickering from the side. "You good?" she teases.

I clear my throat, shoving my bag into the storage compartment with too much force. "Yeah. Totally fine."

Totally not fine. Because Faye in specs? Yeah. I was not prepared for that.

Boarding the bus and sitting beside Ink, I am so glad I got a window seat. Not because I actually plan on looking outside. No. That would be too normal.

I have a better view–a direct line of sight to Faye.

She's sitting closer to the front, her long legs stretched comfortably, one hand holding the clipboard while the other casually rests on the armrest. She looks effortlessly poised, handling her chaperone duties with that ridiculously unfair air of calm authority that makes her seem untouchable.

I sigh, utterly entranced, my chin resting on my palm as I watch her check through the attendance list, nodding occasionally as students pass by.

Ink shifts beside me, throwing me a very amused look.

"You're staring."

I blink. "I am not."

She snorts. "Yoko, I swear to god, you have not looked anywhere else since we sat down. I could be on fire and you'd still be staring at Ms. Peraya like she's the Mona Lisa."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

Ink raises a brow. "Me? Dramatic? Babe, you've been sighing like a lovesick protagonist in a period drama."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "It's called appreciating fine literature—literature in the form of a very respectable teacher."

Ink shakes her head, chuckling. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," I shoot back, grinning.

She just rolls her eyes as I shift in my seat, deciding that maybe, just maybe, I should stop staring before I actually combust.

I pull my hoodie over my head, get comfortable, and tell myself I'll rest for the duration of the bus ride.

Yeah. Like that's gonna happen.

By the time we arrive at the airport, I feel slightly more awake but still running on dangerously low energy reserves.

After the chaos of checking in—passport scanning, baggage drop, and the occasional sleepy student nearly forgetting their boarding pass—not me, for once—we finally make it to the transit area.

I should be excited. This is the real start of the trip. But instead, I'm keeping an eye on Faye.

Because, apparently, I am incapable of minding my own business.

She's walking a little ahead, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jeans, her signature cool and composed energy in full force. And standing way too close beside her?

Some other teacher.

I squint.

I don't really know her, but I've heard her name before—Ms. Taylor, maybe? She teaches something. History? Geography? Something that's not English Lit, so I never cared enough to find out.

And she's way too friendly with my girlfriend.

I don't think Faye notices, but I do. The way Ms. Taylor leans in slightly when she speaks, the casual hand flicks toward Faye's arm, the extra lingering glances.

Oh, I see you, Ms. Taylor. And you can back off.

I'm still observing when Marissa pipes up beside me, completely unaware of the firestorm brewing inside me.

"Oh wow, Ms. Peraya and Ms. Taylor look kinda cute together, huh?"

I nearly choke. Ink, the traitor, smirks but stays silent, obviously enjoying the show.

I recover fast, keeping my expression neutral. "I mean... not really?"

Marissa raises a brow. "What? You don't see it?"

I force a laugh, casual, cool, normal girlfriend who is definitely not irrationally jealous right now. "I mean, Ms. Peraya's just polite to everyone. It's not like she's flirting or anything."

Marissa hums, watching them for a second longer before shrugging. "Yeah, you're probably right." Then she grins."Wait—why are you so defensive? You sound like you're jealous or something."

Abort mission. ABORT MISSION.

I scoff. "Pfft. Jealous? Me?" I wave a hand dismissively. "Please, I just have good observational skills, unlike you."

Ink, the devil she is, laughs under her breath, but I ignore her.

Marissa squints, as if she's trying to read my soul, but ultimately shakes her head. "You're weird."

"And you have no taste," I counter, trying to play it off. "Ms. Peraya could do better than Ms. Taylor."

Marissa snorts. "Oh? Like who?"

Me, I almost say. But instead, I just shrug. "Someone with better hair, for starters."

Ink finally loses it, cackling like I'm the funniest person alive. I shoot her a glare, but she just grins wider.

Yeah. She's definitely going to use this against me later.

We're finally almost there—just one step away from getting on that damn plane.

Currently, we're all waiting for boarding, sprawled around the gate like a bunch of sleep-deprived zombies who desperately need caffeine.

Big stretches his arms behind his head. "Alright, where is everyone sitting?"

Ink pulls out her boarding pass. "I'm with you."

Big grins. "Nice. At least I won't be stuck with someone weird."

Marissa huffs. "Excuse me? I have to sit with some random person."

Big smirks. "Oh yeah? You hope you don't get anyone weird?" He leans in, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Marissa, sweetheart, I think we should be praying for the other person instead."

Marissa gasps like he's personally insulted her entire bloodline. "I'll have you know I am a delightful seatmate."

Ink snorts. "You talk a lot."

"I make engaging conversation!"

"You monologue like you're narrating a documentary."

Big dramatically wipes an imaginary tear. "Some poor soul is about to get trapped for fourteen hours."

Marissa crosses her arms. "Well, I hope I get someone fun and not boring like you guys."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "I don't even know who I'm sitting with yet." I glance at my ticket. "Looks like I'm in 32B."

Ink raises a brow. "And you hope you're not sitting next to...?"

I shudder dramatically, gripping my chest. "Oh god. Please, please, let it not be Jonathan."

All three of them burst out laughing.

Jonathan.

The one person in the entire cohort who can out-talk Marissa. And worse? He's a theater kid.

Which means if I'm stuck beside him for fourteen hours, I will not survive. The plane will land in Edinburgh, but I'll have mentally ascended into another dimension.

Big pats my shoulder. "Yoko, if it is him, just know it was nice knowing you."

Ink grins. "Or, you know, you could just open the emergency exit mid-flight and jump."

"I would."

Marissa smirks. "Or you could just trade seats."

"With who? Who would willingly switch into that nightmare?"

We all glance around the waiting area, eyes scanning for an unsuspecting victim. Yeah. No one's gonna take this seat from me. I sigh, resigning myself to fate and possible spontaneous combustion.

And then my eyes drift toward Faye.

She's standing near the teachers, still in that effortlessly cool airport look—her crisp white shirt, loose yet perfectly stylish, and those flared jeans that should be illegal. She's got her bag slung casually over one shoulder, checking something on her phone, looking so completely unbothered by the chaos of students around her.

I watch her for a moment, wondering where she is sitting. Not that it matters, obviously. It's not like I want to sit next to her. That would be—

Okay. No. That would be amazing. But impossible.

So I sigh, throwing one last pleading glance at the universe before boarding finally begins.

Here goes nothing.

I settle into my seat, exhaling slowly, mentally preparing myself for fourteen hours of doing absolutely nothing.

But before I can even relax, I see him—Jonathan.

The theater kid. The human megaphone. The one person I prayed to every known deity in existence not to sit beside me.

I clutch my boarding pass tightly and begin my silent chant.

Not here. Not here. Not here. Not—

Jonathan walks past me.

I nearly sob in relief.

And then I see him stop beside Marissa.

I freeze. Marissa looks up. Sees him. Sees his boarding pass. And then she screams internally.

Her eyes widen in pure horror, her expression screaming Yoko, HELP ME, but I—being the wonderful friend that I am—do absolutely nothing but watch in pure, unfiltered amusement.

Jonathan, completely unaware of the disaster he's about to unleash, grins. "Oh hey, Marissa! Guess we're seat buddies!"

Marissa's face is frozen in an attempt to be polite, but I know she's spiraling. "Yeah... uh... great..." she mumbles weakly.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Big, who is sitting across the aisle, casually leans forward just enough to whisper, "Rest in peace, Marissa."

Ink snickers beside me, whispering, "She had a good run."

And just like that, my entire flight experience has already improved. After basking in my undeserved good fortune, I lean back into my seat, stretching a little. Might as well get comfortable.

I pull out my phone, typing out a quick message to my dad.

Yoko

Taking off soon, Dad. Will text you when I land. Don't forget to feed Ham.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes.

Dad

Have a safe flight, kiddo. And don't let Marissa talk the pilot's ears off.

I chuckle softly. Too late.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I let my head rest against the seat, sighing contentedly until I catch the scent.

Woody. A hint of bergamot.

Familiar.

A scent so irrevocably hers that it tugs at something deep in my chest before I even fully process it.

My brows furrow slightly, and I turn my head. And my breath catches.

Because sitting beside me...

Wearing that white button-up, effortlessly leaned back, looking like she owns the whole damn flight...

Is Faye. Faye Peraya. My girlfriend.

I blink. Once. Twice.

But the image doesn't change. Faye is still there. Sitting right beside me.

My girlfriend. My actual English Literature teacher. The one person I had absolutely zero hope of sitting next to on this flight.

I must've died and been granted my final wish.

She turns her head slightly, lips quirking up in that signature amused yet completely unbothered smirk of hers. "Surprised?" she murmurs.

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. Then I whisper back, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Faye lifts a brow, adjusting herself slightly. "Sitting, last I checked."

"No, I mean—" I exhale sharply, trying to keep it together. "Why are you sitting next to me?"

She shrugs. "Allison arranged the seating for the chaperones."

I stiffen. "Allison did?"

Faye smirks. "Mhm."

I narrow my eyes. "That woman is up to something."

"Probably," she says, far too relaxed about it.

I glance around, feeling my paranoia skyrocket. This could not be happening. "But—" I lower my voice, leaning in slightly. "We agreed to keep our distance."

Faye tilts her head. "And we will."

"You're literally sitting beside me."

She hums, eyes glinting. "Guess you'll have to behave yourself then, darling."

I gawk at her. Faye is enjoying this. Way too much.

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. "This is bad."

"Relax," she chuckles, flipping open the in-flight magazine like she isn't completely ruining my ability to function properly. "No one cares where the teachers sit."

I glare at her. "I care."

She turns to look at me again, her lips curling slightly, and goddammit, those glasses. Those damn thin-framed, sharp, deadly glasses she has on.

I nearly lose my mind.

"You're staring," she murmurs.

I snap out of it instantly. "No, I'm not."

"You are."

I shift uncomfortably. "Well, you're wearing those."

She raises a brow. "Those?"

I gesture vaguely at her face. "The glasses. It's too much."

Faye smirks. "Should I take them off then?"

I clench my fists. "No—"

Before I can even finish my sentence, she casually removes them and folds them neatly, placing them on her lap.

I exhale sharply. "Oh my god."

She grins. "Better?"

"No," I mutter, sinking into my seat, feeling all kinds of things that I should not be feeling on a public flight.

Faye chuckles, her voice low and teasing. I cross my arms, sulking.

This flight is going to kill me.

The hum of the plane is steady, almost lulling, as I subtly or, not-so-subtly steal glances at Faye.

She's leaned back against her seat, eyes closed, looking obnoxiously perfect even while doing absolutely nothing.

My gaze travels to the slope of her nose, the soft curve of her lips, the way her lashes cast the faintest shadows over her cheeks. It should be illegal to look this good while unconscious.

I sigh dreamily.

"Why are you staring at me?"

My soul leaves my body. Faye doesn't even open her eyes, just shifts slightly, one brow quirking up in amusement.

I scramble to recover. "I wasn't."

She hums. "Liar."

I cross my arms, huffing. "Maybe you should stop being so aware of my existence."

Her lips twitch. "Not possible."

God, I hate how smooth she is.

I huff again and forcefully look away, staring aggressively at the seat in front of me—only to immediately regret it. Because Ms. Taylor, the suspiciously too-close-for-my-liking chaperone from earlier, is making her way down the aisle.

And she's coming straight for Faye. My entire body tenses.

"Faye," Ms. Taylor greets, all smiles and familiarity, leaning just a bit too much into Faye's space.

Faye, ever the composed professional, simply opens her eyes and straightens. "Ms. Taylor."

Ugh. Why does she have to say it like that?

Ms. Taylor launches into something about the itinerary, the hotel check-ins, the whatever, but I'm not listening.

I'm too busy sulking. Because Ms. Taylor is still there. Still talking and still standing way too damn close.

And worst of all? Faye is responding politely to all of it, like she's completely unbothered. Meanwhile, I am dying.

After what feels like a century, Ms. Taylor finally leaves, walking back to wherever she came from.

I glance at Faye.

She still has that perfectly neutral polite smile on her face. I scowl and turn away, staring out the airplane window like it personally offended me.

Faye blinks at me, then tilts her head slightly. "...Yoko?"

Silence. A second passes. Then another.

She shifts closer. "What's wrong?"

I say nothing.

She nudges me gently with her knee. "Darling?"

I ignore her.

She sighs, amused. "Is this about Ms. Taylor?"

I scoff. "What? No. I don't care."

She hums knowingly. "Right."

I glare at her. "I don't."

Her lips twitch. "Of course."

I groan, turning away again. "Ugh, go away."

She chuckles, low and warm, leaning in closer until I can feel her breath against my ear. "I only have one person on my mind, Yoko," she murmurs softly.

I freeze. Then she smirks, clearly seeing the flush creeping up my neck. She leans back, satisfied, her eyes twinkling as if she just won something.

I scowl harder.

But...My heart betrays me by flipping in my chest, and I have to bite my lip to stop the smile threatening to break free.

Damn her. Damn her and her stupid, romantic words.

I hate her.

Not actually, of course. But, like, in the most frustrated, I-am-so-down-bad-for-you-it's-embarrassing kind of way.

Because now? Now I'm just sitting here, arms crossed, pretending I'm not blushing like an idiot, while Faye lounges beside me looking smug as hell.

I chance a side glance at her. Oh, big mistake. 

She's still smirking, her fingers absentmindedly twirling the chain of her necklace, eyes focused ahead like she didn't just short-circuit my brain with that one sentence.

My jaw clenches. "Wipe that look off your face."

"What look?" she asks, feigning innocence.

"That stupid smirk."

Her lips curl even more.

Oh my god.

I lean back against my seat, exhaling sharply. "I swear, if we weren't on a plane—"

"—What?" she interrupts, amusement dripping from her tone. "What would you do, darling?"

I clench my fists. "I hate you."

Faye leans in way too close, her voice a sultry whisper just for me. "No, you don't."

My entire existence malfunctions. I stiffen, my face heating up, and immediately turn my head away—only to be betrayed by Ink, who's sitting right across the aisle, arms folded, staring right at me.

I freeze.

Ink grins.

Oh. Shit.

I already know that look. That's the I caught you simping for your teacher-girlfriend and I will never let you live this down look.

I mouth at her, Don't.

She wiggles her eyebrows.

Faye, of course, notices everything and casually glances across the aisle. "Something wrong, Ink?"

Ink shrugs, all too entertained. "Nope. Just enjoying the show."

I kick the back of her seat. She snickers. And before I can fully plot Ink's demise, the overhead announcement comes on, instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts for some minor turbulence ahead.

I buckle mine and steal another glance at Faye, who's still sitting there, completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, my brain is still screaming at me. Because, as much as I hate to admit it—She was right.

I don't hate her.

I'm just hopelessly, ridiculously, helplessly in love with her.

The rest of the flight is... uneventful.

I try not to think about the fact that my girlfriend is literally sitting right next to me, and that I can't hold her hand, lean on her shoulder, or kiss her senseless at 35,000 feet.

Instead, I focus on the thrilling in-flight entertainment. Which, honestly? Not bad. But not enough to distract me from her presence beside me.

We eat airplane food which is mid, as expected, watch random movies, and—oh, look—another reminder that we're supposed to be keeping our distance. Fun.

Eventually, we land.

The second we step off the plane, Faye slips right back into her chaperone role, straightening her posture, smoothing out her crisp white shirt—unfairly attractive—and walking ahead to supervise the students.

Meanwhile, I immediately bolt to my group of friends like a starved animal finding its pack. Ink, Big, and Marissa are already gathered near baggage claim, all three looking equally jet-lagged but also thrilled to be here.

"Finally," Marissa groans, stretching. "We're in Scotland, baby!"

Big yawns. "I still don't know why you're this excited."

Marissa gasps at him, offended. "Excuse you?! We're in one of the most beautiful countries on earth, and you dare ask me why I'm excited?!"

Ink nudges me. "You jet-lagged yet?"

"Nah," I say, "Adrenaline's keeping me alive." 

Well, that and the woman I'm in love with, but yeah, let's not go there right now.

Eventually, everyone gets through immigration and customs without incident miraculously, and we all head toward the bus that'll take us to the hotel.

And—oh, it's nice.

The bus itself is one of those premium ones with plush seats and a fancy interior. And when I hear the name of our hotel, I nearly choke.

"The Balmoral Hotel."

Holy shit.

I turn to Ink, wide-eyed. "Isn't this, like, super expensive?"

Ink shrugs. "Guess they went all out this time. Probably got some school sponsorship."

Big whistles. "Damn, we're living like rich people for a week."

Marissa, of course, is vibrating with excitement. "This is going to be the best trip ever."

Meanwhile, I'm still processing the fact that I'll be sleeping in a room inside a literal five-star luxury hotel.

As the bus starts moving, Ms. Taylor—ugh—stands up at the front, clearing her throat.

"Alright, everyone, listen up! We're heading to The Balmoral Hotel for check-in. Today is just a rest and relax day, so once you get to your rooms, unpack, settle in, and get some rest. Tomorrow, we begin our itinerary properly."

Blah, blah, blah.

I barely hear the rest of what she's saying because—let's be honest—I am internally judging the hell out of her.

The way she talks. The way she gestures. The way she keeps stealing glances at Faye like she's dying for her attention.

Oh, I see you, Ms. Taylor. And I do not like you.

I cross my arms, scowling to myself as she keeps droning on, acting like the most important person on this trip.

I glance at Faye.

She's sitting a few rows ahead, listening politely (as always), looking effortlessly elegant in her crisp white shirt, her glasses perched on her nose.

I sigh.

It's going to be a long week.

The moment we step into The Balmoral Hotel, my soul leaves my body.

Holy shit. This place is like stepping into a dream. The grand chandeliers, the towering ceilings, the ridiculously luxurious interior—are we really supposed to be here?!

"Okay, damn," Ink mutters beside me, her eyes scanning the lobby. "I suddenly feel too poor to exist here."

"You and me both," I whisper back.

Marissa, on the other hand, is already half-squealing. "This is so worth the 14-hour flight. I could live here forever!"

Big scoffs. "Please. If I don't see y'all at breakfast tomorrow, I'll assume you've sold your soul to afford one more night here."

After check-in, we receive our room keys.

Marissa and Ink are my roommates—thank god—while Big got assigned to a random dude we don't know.

"Y'all better not snore," I warn as we step into the elevator.

Ink smirks. "You better not be texting Ms. Tall-and-Cold all night."

I glare. "Shut up."

Once we reach our floor, we find our room, swipe the key card, and step inside.

And holy hell. It's massive.

The plush king-sized beds, the ridiculous view of Edinburgh's skyline, the marble bathroom—I feel like I just walked into a billionaire's suite.

"Holy shit," Marissa gasps.

Ink tosses her bag onto one of the beds. "We're definitely stealing all the free toiletries."

I flop onto the edge of the bed, barely registering their excitement because—I have other priorities.

Pulling out my phone, I text Faye.

Yoko

I'm in Room 1408. Where are you?

A second later, my phone buzzes.

Faye

I know.

I narrow my eyes.

Yoko

??? How?

Faye

I'm one of the chaperones, darling. Of course, I know where you are.

I scoff, smirking.

Yoko

So where are you then?

Faye

...

Yoko

You're not telling me, are you?

Faye

Nope.

I let out a dramatic sigh, mentally rolling my eyes.

Yoko

Unbelievable.

Then a very important thought occurs to me. I squint at my phone, hesitating before typing.

Yoko

Wait. Are you sharing a room with Ms. Taylor??

I totally try to sound casual. Totally. But I know damn well I don't sound casual at all. My phone buzzes again.

Faye

Jealous, my love?

I groan.

Yoko

No.

Yoko

Maybe.

Yoko

Shut up.

Faye takes her sweet time replying before finally putting me out of my misery.

Faye

Don't worry, darling. I have my own room. No Ms. Taylor. Just me.

I exhale.

Yoko

Good.

Faye

Aw, look at you, so concerned for me. So protective. So adorable.

I roll onto my back, dying.

Yoko

I take back my concern.

Faye

No, you don't.

Yoko

...No, I don't.

Faye

I love you.

I'm about to reply again when—

"YOKO."

Marissa's voice yanks me back to reality and I nearly drop my phone.

I turn to her. "What?"

She huffs, hands on her hips. "Stop texting your mystery lover and help us figure out where to go."

Ink snickers. "It's not mystery lover, it's—"

"DO NOT," I interrupt, glaring at her.

Ink smirks. This bitch.

I shove my phone into my pocket and focus back on my friends.

Marissa claps her hands together. "Okay, since we have the whole day free, I say we hit the streets, find some good food, and explore!"

Ink nods. "Agreed. I wanna see if I can find any cute bookstores."

Big texts into the group chat.

Big

If y'all find good food, send the location.

Marissa

NO. FIND YOUR OWN FOOD.

I laugh, shaking my head. We all quickly finish unpacking, freshen up, and grab our coats before heading out.

The streets of Edinburgh await.