Archive of Our Own

Work Text

Elsa graduates on December 22nd, 2024 with her MFA in Creative Writing. However, technically she gets out of school December 12th, and spends one week off before, finally, she walks the stage for the second time in the past 4 years. Kristoff and Anna are in the crowd cheering her on, watching, and celebrating. That night she has a glass of wine or two with them at their home in upstate New York, and on December 23rd, 2024 she books a flight to Hawaii.

It’s late, around two, later than Elsa usually wants to be up, anyway, and she is browsing flights to Hawaii. It’s a completely impulsive decision, really, she would never normally do something like this.

Yet.

When she and Anna were young, and even into Elsa’s early teenage years, their parents would take them on vacation every year to a tropical location, with plans to escape the snow for a little while. It was typically during the gap between Christmas and New Years’, while they were still free from school and the responsibilities of daily life. However, after Elsa’s studies became more rigorous, she and Anna more grown up, and her parents more heavily involved with their work– the vacations ceased. Her parents began travelling more, rarely home, and almost never available to talk to, let alone take leave for a week or so. Elsa hasn’t been away, on a vacation, just for her— no pretense, not for study, or work, just

her

– since their parents passed five years ago.

She takes a deep breath, and continues scrolling, one tab open on hotels, places to stay, and the other on flights, and thinks about Anna. She should invite her– they could do this together. Elsa’s

been

alone. She knows how to be alone, and she’s good at it. She’s done her whole life alone; graduated with two bachelors, a minor, and a masters degree in seven years, dealt with the loss of her parents and the onslaught of work she had to pick up to continue the family business in their place, and protected her younger sister. She’s done everything right, by the book.

The thought of apartment and job hunting terrifies her. She wants nothing more than to escape, to run away from everything and everyone.

So. Hawaii.

She doesn’t tell Anna or Krisoff, just quietly looks at hotels, resorts, AirBnBs, flights, and thinks about the hot weather and how badly she wants to feel it after being cold for so long. She examines her hands– freshly manicured fingernails, courtesy of Anna, a little on the longer side– and feels how cold they are from the winter.

The prices are higher this time of year, but she never does anything really, or goes anywhere, and she’s been saving for years - for what? Nothing, apparently, but this. This is her chance, her time, her heart is telling her to go, to escape— to become one with a life that has been so opposite the one she has crafted for herself so far. She wants it, and goes with it, willingly giving into her impulses that she has controlled for so long. Elsa figures even if she dips into some of her savings it’s fine, since she’s been saving for ages for… an occasion like this. She makes calculations according to her apartment and utility payments, her car, and thanks God and her parents again that they left money for her schooling, so that burden is lifted off of her. She has the financial freedom to do what exactly? She’s sure this is not what they had in mind.

She finds a direct flight to Hawaii out of New York— 12 hours and 5 minutes, 10:00 am to 5:15 pm in Kahului, books it, and then the hotel- a small-ish, all-inclusive for five nights. She leaves December 27th and returns on the 1st.

Elsa stays with Anna and Kristoff over Christmas, and brings everything she’ll need for her trip after.

Christmas is quiet, small, and relaxingly normal. It’s warm inside the house and frozen solid outside. After they eat and exchange gifts, Anna puts The Holiday on TV and they laugh at the familiar story before turning to Disney’s A Christmas Carol and the ensuing Disney Christmas cartoons they loved as children.

On December 26th, Anna asks if Elsa would like to go ice skating tomorrow. Elsa informs her she cannot, and will be unavailable for the next six days after that, and is going on vacation.

“What?” Anna asks, surprised, still holding the dish towel she was using to dry off their Christmas cookie sheets. “Since when?”

“Since December 23rd,” Elsa says. All the words come to her at once and she can’t stop herself before they’re spilling out of her mouth.

“I booked the flights, the hotel. It’s all inclusive so I won’t have to worry about food or transport or anything - unless I wanted to leave to experience the mountains and waterfalls and beaches - and, I do. I might… do that– and there is transportation available in that case.” Elsa takes a breath. “I wanted to take this vacation. And I figured, why not?” she laughs a little, noticing herself rambling, sounding scatter-brained, and although she has planned everything out meticulously throughout the past few days— during free time between meals, before bed, and in the morning when she wakes up. It’s all she’s been thinking about. Really, she is nervous. She’s acting impulsively, and selfishly, and unlike herself. Yet, the decision feels right for her. She is supposed to take this time for herself. She needs some time away- she figures maybe it’ll even help her with writing.

“Alone? And without telling anyone?” Anna continues to question, trying not to grill her, not wanting to push her away, but continuing onward anyway.

“Yes. I’ve travelled further alone before and I was going to tell you about it, I just…” she trails off, out of excuses. “I just hadn’t gotten the chance yet,” she finishes, somewhat truthfully.

“When did you plan this?” Anna asks again, putting away another dish.

“I told you, I planned it this week, and I’ve got everything figured out.” Elsa’s tone is tight; she’s fidgeting a little with her hands, rubbing her fingers over her nails, enjoying the smooth feeling of her manicure. “I know it’s last minute.”

“Crazy last minute,” Anna agrees, finally done with the dishes. She washes her hands and dries them quickly on a firework printed dish towel that Elsa thinks is for the fourth of July, but might currently be being repurposed for New Years. “Are you okay?” Anna asks.

“I’m fine,” Elsa replies, because why wouldn’t she be? “I just graduated, and I am fortunate enough to have the money to take a spontaneous trip. I thought a change of scenery might help inspire me with writing, and I want to, so I’m going,” she says with finality.

“Okay,” Anna relents, smiling. “I just wanted to make sure.” Anna opens her mouth, hesitating, wondering if she should speak again.

“I know it’s not like me.” Elsa says what Anna is thinking. “It just feels right. I have to do this. I hope you understand.”

Anna nods, trying her best to understand. She takes a moment, then smiles, but Elsa can tell she’s still a little shocked. “I just can’t believe you’d do something so spontaneous, I guess,” Anna admits.

“Well,” Elsa starts. “Do you have a problem with it?” she asks, very candidly.

“No!” Anna says immediately, a little defensively. She calms a little and then restarts. “No. Of course not. I hope you have the best time– and I hope you find inspiration for your writing along the way. I love you.” Anna moves past the edge of the kitchen counter to give Elsa a hug, where she’s sitting on one of the stools.

Elsa leans into her sister's comforting, familiar, embrace— something she won’t feel again for six days and five nights. “I love you too.”

“What time do you leave?” Anna pulls back, looking Elsa in the eyes.

“I’ll leave here at 6:30 am. My flight’s at ten.”

“Be safe,” Anna says, hugging her again. She lets her go.

“I will,” Elsa tells her, sincere.

They stay there for a little while after, Elsa helps Anna clean the other spaces in the kitchen - the counters, the floors, and then gets to work scrubbing the dining room table. After that, Kristoff is home and Elsa figures she should tell him where she’s going as well. She could just let Anna do it, but that feels cowardly to her now.

Kristoff and Anna are watching TV in the living room, some comedy Elsa’s heard a million times but never seen, and Elsa goes in to say goodnight, and that she’ll see them January 2nd.

It takes Kristoff a minute to register what she just said, and Anna looks at him, making sure he understands.

“What?” he asks. “Where are you going?”

The television laugh track goes off in the background, and Elsa glances at the TV.

“Hawaii,” she responds simply.

Kristoff looks at Elsa, and then looks at Anna, confusion written all over his face.

“Elsa’s going on vacation,” Anna tells him, and leaves it at that. He looks at her again, questioningly, and she just nods.

“Okay,” Kristoff replies. He’ll save his questions to ask Anna later.

“I just wanted to… say goodbye,” Elsa says, a little awkwardly in the wake of Kristoff's evident shock. She knows how to handle Anna, but still doesn’t know Kristoff quite as well and doesn’t want to repeat the entire spiel she prepared for Anna earlier. “And goodnight. And that I’ll see you guys on the second,” she adds.

“Goodnight,” Anna gets up to hug her again, one last time before the new year, as she won’t be up the next morning to see her off.

Kristoff shakes her hand and then pulls her into a rough hug of his own. “Have fun.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Love you!” Anna calls, as Elsa makes her way up the stairs.

“I love you too,” Elsa says, loudly enough for her to hear.

Elsa walks up the stairs and quietly closes the door to the guest room she always takes at Anna’s house, turning around to take in the organized chaos of her open suitcase and unzipped backpack, and the items she is still deciding whether or not to bring. She glances at the time. It’s ten. If she goes to bed now, she’ll get around eight hours of sleep. It’s unlikely she’ll sleep on the plane at all anyway, regardless of how much she gets tonight, so she figures it doesn’t really matter how late she stays up. She really should have gotten this packing over with yesterday though. And she was just going on and on to Anna about how prepared she is.

Elsa smiles, laughing a little at herself as she gathers her toiletries and ensures the caps are all screwed on tightly enough, that no lotion or toothpaste will spill out and ruin her other items. She packs a few books for the plane, and her combined journal / planner for her writing, and her freshly charged laptop, contained safely in its blue and gold case. She goes through her clothes one last time, counting fleece pajama pants, and shorts, in case it’s too warm, tank tops, t-shirts, long, flowing dresses, shorter beachy dresses, jean shorts, underwear, and lastly, swimsuits. Seeing everything is in its place, she forgoes her leggings and jeans, figuring if she’s too cold she’ll just turn in for the night, and that is all she can fit in her suitcase without adding a new worry that she won’t be able to zip it up. She has everything she needs; nothing more.

She zips up her suitcase and backpack, and places them on the floor next to her bed.

Her alarms are set. One for 6, 6:05, 6:10, and then 6:30, when she’ll leave. She’s never overslept before, but she is especially not risking it now.

Elsa pulls her hair out of its braid and untangles the blond strands with her fingers, curling them slightly as she goes. She plugs in her phone, and turns off her lamp.

She lies down in bed, continuing to mess with her hair, and fidget with the sheets, feeling oddly uncomfortable in bed, but inexplicably excited in a way she’s never been before.

She’s really doing this.

She should really go to bed.

After what feels like a long while of tossing and turning, but was probably only thirty minutes, Anna knocks on her door three times, her signature knock.

“Come in,” Elsa replies, sitting up a little.

Anna twists the door handle, and stands in the doorway for a second, letting the light pool in so she can see.

“What’s wrong?” Elsa asks, squinting to try and see Anna’s reflection in the dark.

“Nothing,” Anna replies, entering the room, and closing the door with a soft click. The light from the hall still pools in under the door, and Elsa sees Anna’s bright pink slippers cross toward her bed. “I just wanted to check on you. Is it okay if I sit here for a while?”

“Yes,” Elsa replies, scooching to one side to make room for her in the bed.

“I just can’t believe I won’t see you for a week,” Anna spills, slipping under the covers next to her sister, just like how they used to cuddle with their mother when they were young.

“It’s only a week,” Elsa replies automatically, rethinking the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth. “But, I understand,” she validates, pulling her braid over her shoulder.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Anna leans her shoulder into Elsa’s, slouching a little.

“I’ll miss you too,” Elsa says.

Anna is quiet, thinking. It’s almost as if Elsa can hear the gears turning in her brain. “Why? I just want to ask why you’re suddenly going on this trip, but at the same time it doesn’t feel fair to you, but I need to know why, and why alone-”

“I don’t know,” Elsa cuts her off, something so raw and painful in her honesty.

“Really?”

Hm. Is it so rare for me not to know?

Elsa thinks. “I just need to.”

“I just wish I could go with you,” Anna says, leaning her head against Elsa’s shoulder.

Elsa scooches in a little closer, wrapping her arm around Anna, using her left hand to play with Anna’s braids.

“I understand,” Anna says, and Elsa withdraws her hand, settling deeper into the pillow.

“Next time… take me with you?” Anna asks, and her words trail off into a yawn.

Elsa laughs lightly. “Okay. Next time, we’ll all go. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Anna whispers quietly.

It’s quiet, for a minute, and Elsa begins to worry that Anna’s falling asleep, but then she stands, giving Elsa one last, firm hug.

“Okay. I’ll let you get some rest. Be safe, and have fun.”

“I will,” Elsa says, for the last time.

Anna leaves, and closes the door. Somehow, Elsa falls asleep.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Jack tells Hiccup, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder, holding up different patterned Hawaiian shirts, wondering if they’re just a bit too on the side of tacky rather than fun, and if he’s brought enough dress shirts– or if he even really needs them.

“I know, not like we’ve been talking about it for what, six years now?” Hiccup replies. “How’s packing going?” Before Jack can answer, Hiccup continues, “Lemme guess, you saved everything for the night before again.”

“Pshhh, no,” Jack lies. “I’m so packed. I’ve been packed.” He goes with both Hawaiian shirts and then goes through his athletic shorts, swim trunks, and t-shirts again.

“Uh huh,” Hiccup pretends to believe him for a second. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Astrid so excited for a vacation before.”

“I know. This is pretty crazy— One pair of shoes should be good right?” he asks, holding up his worn-down sandals.

“Maybe some sneakers in case we need closed-toed shoes for something,” Hiccup advises.

“That makes sense,” Jack agrees, and throws the sandals in the bag. His sneakers are by the door, they’ll be ready for him tomorrow. Now he just needs socks, underwear, maybe some pants. “Yeah. This is exciting. Have you talked to Rapunzel and Eugene?”

“Yeah— they’re all set. Merida too. You still good for us to pick you up tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yeah. 6 am, right?”

“Yep. Rapunzel and Eugene will get Merida– they’ll be right behind us.”

“Sounds good,” Jack says, shoving another shirt in his suitcase. Just in case.

“Alright, well I’ll let you get back to staring at your completely packed suitcase,” Hiccup jokes.

Jack laughs. “Right. Thanks, yeah there’s still… a little work to be done—“

“I’ll see you tomorrow though. And every day for the next week.”

“As if I don’t see you enough already,” Jack jokes.

“Ha,” Hiccup responds sarcastically. “Okay. Packed suitcase isn’t gonna stare at itself. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Hiccup hangs up, and Jack tosses his phone on the bed, staring at his suitcase once again.

He can’t quite shake the feeling he’s forgetting something— he just doesn’t know what. He’s got plenty of tacky Hawaiian flower-printed shirts , shorts, pajamas, four pairs of swim trunks, underwear, socks.

He needs snacks for the plane. It’s midnight the night before they leave for Hawaii, and definitely the most important thing right now is that he has snacks for the plane. Not charging his electronics, or counting the ounces of his toiletries, but snacks.

Jack races down to the kitchen, definitely faster than he needs to, and nearly runs into Aster at the bottom of the stairs.

“Crickey, Jack, what’s the matter?” Aster asks.

“Nothing,” Jack says. “Just need some snacks for the flight tomorrow. Why are you still up?”

“I was just going to bed. Shouldn’t you be too? You’re leaving here at six.”

“Yeah, I will in a minute. What snacks do you think I should bring?”

Jack finds himself in the kitchen, going through the different salty and sweet options they have in the cabinet, eventually settling on peanut M&Ms (best of both worlds) and Cool Ranch Doritos. Now, he plugs in his headphones and phone, and then goes through the labels on his toothpaste and cologne.

He still feels like he’s forgetting something, but it’s probably time.

At 12:30, he turns off the light, lies down, and closes his eyes.

After ten minutes, too anxious to sleep, and too impatient to wait, he gets up again, and goes downstairs to watch tv, to see if it’ll help. Science says blue light doesn’t help, but experience says that watching his old favorites in the living room helps him calm down, so he listens, and makes sure his phone still finds a charger and his alarms are on and turned up to the highest volume. The first season of Gravity Falls does as it should, and after an episode or two, he finally goes to bed, dragging himself back up the stairs and into bed, triple-checking his alarm before he crashes.

At 5:45 am sharp, Elsa wakes up before her first alarm, leaving her enough time to take one of the fastest showers of her life, have a light breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal, and double-check her electronics and plane items. She leaves at 6:25, enjoys a quiet drive to the airport, and as she parks her deep blue car in the parking garage, on the third floor, it hits her for the first time since she booked the flights and hotel that she’s really doing this. She’s going on vacation, she’s leaving, and she’s

finally

following her impulses.

She pulls her braid over her shoulder, and looks at herself in the rear view mirror.

You can do this.

She grabs her suitcase and ties her backpack to the back of it, slinging the straps around the handle, and walks away from her car, and her life, for seven days.

Security is faster than it's ever been, a surprisingly little amount of people are there for two days after Christmas. So, she has an hour and a half to sit at the gate, waiting, psyching herself out even more.

She wanted this. She still does. She just can’t help but wonder if she should have planned this out more, or if she’s making a mistake, or if she should have invited Anna along. After all– she most certainly hurt Anna’s feelings by leaving her out, and she is being selfish in doing this— her… quarter life crisis, or something.

Elsa resists the urge to laugh at herself again, she’s in public now, and she’s a grown adult with a masters degree who can go on vacation if and when she pleases with the money she’s been saving since she was eighteen.

She needs to think less.

Luckily, the hour and a half passes quicker than she expects it to, with a few chapters of her book under her belt, but no writing yet, she stands in line to board the plane. She happened to get A 31-60 seating, which is lucky, because she can choose to sit near the front of the plane, for easy access getting off. And, since she’s a single rider, she doesn’t have to worry about specific seating, and chooses an aisle seat in the second row, securely stowing her blue suitcase in the overhead bin, and her silver and blue marble backpack below the seat in front of her.

Twelve hours and then Hawaii. Whatever second thoughts she had, there’s no time or place for them anymore. This is it. She’s going to Hawaii. She’s taking a vacation for herself, whether she likes it or not, and she’s going to use this time for herself, whether it’s for writing or leisure (hopefully both), and maybe she’ll even… make some friends there or meet some people…

No.

She silently crosses that thought off in her brain.

She is alone. The plane ride is long.  There’s no turning back now.

Sunscreen. That’s what Jack forgot.

He realizes it as soon as he gets into Hiccup and Astrid’s mini-van, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and recounting that he has everything. He woke up twenty minutes before they arrived, which is what he planned, but he didn’t expect those twenty minutes to go by so quickly. Good thing he packed last night. He figures he can just buy some at the airport, if he remembers then. Or there will be a gift shop at their hotel. It’ll probably cost him fifty bucks, but, oh well. You’re only young and in Hawaii once.

The drive to the airport is relatively quiet and smooth, and Jack can see Eugene’s car following right behind them. Merida lives on the opposite side of town, closer to the highway, and when they merged, Eugene started to follow them. Hiccup turns something soft on the radio just to fill the air. Jack pops one ear-bud in and then realizes he hasn’t downloaded any movies or music for the flight, and that he should probably do so before he loses WiFi.

They pull into the parking garage just as his music finishes downloading – a song for every genre, mood, or scenario he could possibly need.

He greets Eugene, Rapunzel, and Merida outside, all bundled up for the New York winter and removing their layers to put back in the car. They won’t need them where they’re going.

“You guys excited?” Jack asks. He didn’t bring a coat, so he puts his hands in his sweatshirt pocket to warm them, shifting his weight a bit. It’s freezing out, so cold his breath mists the air and frost paints the outside of the cars next to them.

“Yes,” Rapunzel replies. “I can’t wait to be warm.”

“Agreed,” Eugene says, removing his suitcase from the back of their car.

They all get their suitcases and backpacks out, and then get going. Hiccup reminds them that they are parked on the third floor, and that the floor is the color red. Jack flags that down in his mind, bracing himself against the cold winds before they exit the parking garage and make their way to a shuttle to bring them to the airport.

“Damn, it’s a ghost town,” Jack mutters, looking around LaGuardia.

“Thank God,” Merida says. “TSA will be easy.”

They obtain their boarding passes and check their bags easily, and security is no different, only a few other tired-looking travellers are there this early in the morning.

“This is crazy,” Astrid says as she takes her backpack. “I’ve never seen it this dead.”

“Yeah. We got really lucky,” Jack says.

He even has time to buy himself a breakfast sandwich, because he didn’t eat this morning before he left the house. He can’t remember if they serve meals in flight, and maybe that’s something he should have looked up, because he’s never been on a flight that’s longer than 3 hours before.

“What’s the longest flight you’ve ever been on?” he asks Hiccup, as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Probably… five or six hours, to visit family in California. This will definitely be the longest flight I’ve ever been on. What about you guys?” He turns to the rest of the group, who are still in varying stages of natural, early-morning quietness and excitement, Merida searching through her bag for an iPhone charger, and Rapunzel tying her hair up.

“Same,” Astrid says, and then looks to the rest of them.

“I’ve never even flown before,” Rapunzel says. “Well, you guys know that,” she adds, a little sheepish. “But I’m so excited.”

Eugene looks at her and smiles, feeding on her excitement. “This will be my longest flight,” he says.

“I think some of my flights to Europe have taken longer with a layover– but this is the longest direct flight,” Merida says.

“We’ve been dreaming about this since high school,” Rapunzel chimes back in, barely able to contain her excitement now. “I hope the flight goes fast because I can’t wait to get there.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” Astrid says. “They have movies, and they’ll have food. And hopefully we can find seats next to each other.”

Oh man. Jack hadn’t even thought that they might not sit next to each other. It probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but he really hoped he’d get to sit next to his friends. The ride there is part of the fun of the vacation, isn’t it? That’s where it all starts.

“Yeah, hope so,” Hiccup says.

They lounge, charging devices and exchanging snacks and small talk, before the gate agent calls that it's time to board, and they get in line.

Jack says a silent goodbye to New York as they walk into the gate, grateful that he’s even able to get on this plane.

Everything goes smoothly– they find an easy place to stow their bags in the first row, and a few seats near the front, but they do have to split up. Both Jack and Merida figure the couples will want to sit together, so they try to find a place together. There’s an open spot in the second row, only one girl sitting in the window seat, and it seems like she’s alone.

“Is it alright if we sit here?” Jack asks, before she turns her head, and he immediately regrets it.

She is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his entire life. Her long, platinum blonde hair is so light it almost looks like white gold, and it is woven into a long, beautiful braid that flows down her shoulder. She’s wearing a long-sleeved, loose-fitting NYU shirt, with leggings, and he’s staring at her, and she’s got these beautiful shockingly blue eyes, and he needs to stop staring at her right now, and he hasn’t even heard what she’s told him– and this is a huge problem, because Merida has already placed her bag directly above this seat, and did so before Jack even asked–

“She said yes, Jack,” Merida tells him, urging him to sit down.

Okay, Overland. Play it cool. It’s only… twelve hours. That’s nothing.

He sits down next to her, and seals his fate, for the next twelve hours.

The flight attendant goes through procedure, showing them exactly how to secure the mask if oxygen levels were to drop in the cabin, telling them to help themselves first and then anyone else, showing them the life vests, everything the flight attendants have to do a million times over.

There go all his plans of calmly listening to music, or taking a nap, or focusing intently on a movie, or anything else. All he can focus on is trying desperately not to brush her leg with his, crossing his legs at the ankle like some old lady, and then uncrossing them again, uncomfortable and fidgety, deciding to extend his legs a little lower under the seat in front of him. He’s barely missing stepping on his backpack. But he’s fine. He’s going to be fine, really.

He’s still convincing himself of this as the plane takes off, and he feels the rush in his stomach as it leaves the ground. He works his jaw a little, his ears already popping with the change of pressure, hyper-aware of how he looks while doing so, and opting to just wait until it goes away naturally, instead.

“You okay?” Merida asks him eventually.

“Fine,” Jack says immediately, focusing on looking anywhere except for the woman next to him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you nervous?” Merida questions. “I didn’t take you for a nervous flier.”

“Nervous?” Jack repeats. “No. I’m good. Just need some water probably.”

And a drink.

Or would that make things worse? Either way, he won’t get one until they land, and he probably won’t get water for a while too.

He’s in for a long flight.

Jack covertly peeks out the window, gazing just past the beautiful girl next to him, to take in the scenery. Eventually, the landscapes, people, and cars become too small to make out any longer, and the city lights of New York are lost to the milky clouds and soft baby blue shades of the still waking-up sky. Jack thinks he’d love to live on a cloud, if he could. He imagines it would be so peaceful, just floating along in the sky, being carried by wind.

A flight attendant comes around to take their drink orders, Merida orders a coffee, and Jack asks for a Coke. The mystery girl just sticks to water, and keeps her nose in her book.

Jack tries reading a little of the book his sister bought him for Christmas, but has a hard time focusing, too busy thinking about not fidgeting, and then nervous that he’s too still that it’s noticeable, and then becoming fidgety again. How is her posture so perfect? He sits up a bit straighter, is uncomfortable with the juncture of his shoulder pushing against a hard part of the chair, so he slouches again, and then turns on the little TV screen in front of him, looking for a movie to pass the time.

He doesn’t find anything that suits him there, so he returns to his playlist, and glances at Merida’s screen, trying to avoid looking the blonde girl's way, but he can’t quite help but gaslight himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe she’s checking him out too. Or maybe she just needs to get up and is thinking about the best way to approach the topic… or maybe she is looking past him and sees someone else she knows. Probably the person she’s here with. Probably.

“Avengers 2012 again? Really?”

Merida looks at him. “What? It’s a good movie.”

“You must’ve seen it a thousand times.”

She offers one of her earbuds to him, raising an eyebrow. He takes it, and settles in for an unexpected Avengers marathon.

The woman on his opposite side reads her way through what appears to be an entire book and a half in the time it takes them to watch 3 marvel movies. He really wishes he knew her name, or knew if it was okay (or how, in any way) to talk to her. He truly, deeply wants to, but can’t find the right words, or any words at all.

Jack refuses to watch EndGame, claiming it too sad, and Merida shrugs as she cues it up.

He then realizes the unavoidable fact that he has to go to the bathroom, and climbs over Merida as unobtrusively as he can on this small aircraft, making sure he doesn’t trip and fall backwards or anything mortifying like that. He doesn’t, luckily. The bathroom is cramped, and miniscule. He washes his hands, splashing his face with water, willing himself to wake up and stop creepily obsessing over a perfectly kind woman next to him who probably just wants to peacefully enjoy this ridiculously long flight and a calm, quiet, nice vacation in Hawaii.

His face is red, and his skin is a little dry– which always happens to him on airplanes. He gazes into the mirror, messing with his hair, which only serves to make it look worse, probably, and eventually gives up. His eyes are a little red, too– airplanes are not good for him, apparently, and he gives up on his appearance. The girl probably isn’t paying attention to him, anyway.

Jack spends the last three and a half hours of the flight listening to music, skimming his book, and trying not to fall asleep, when he is then graced by the in-flight dinner of chicken parmesan and green beans, that he digs into immediately, with only a little shame, because of the blonde haired beauty seated right next to him.

“Jeez Jack, slow down,” Merida still teases him.

He just looks at her.

“Be honest, is it even good?”

“Tastes alright to me,” he says, and takes another bite. “How much longer we got?”

Merida taps the button on her screen that changes it to track the flight. “45 minutes.”

Jack is starting to get antsy, and Merida can tell.

“Hang in there,” she tells him.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the plane lands, and they have to wait a little to get off, and each second feels like torture because now Jack can see the beautiful greenery outside. He could see more if he craned his neck far enough, but he won’t, because he doesn’t want the girl next to him to think he’s any weirder than she probably (definitely) already does, but he swears there must be palm trees behind all the green he can already see, growing out of the sand, or wherever they come from.

Merida finally stands and hastily grabs her bag from the overhead compartment, and Jack almost hits his head in his hurry to follow her. He stands, wincing at the soreness in his legs from sitting so long, and then takes his bag, seeing a similarly shaped blue one next to it. He figures it must be the blonde girls and vaguely wonders if he should offer to help her, and decides against it, thinking that may be more offensive than kind and chivalrous nowadays, and he’s probably already taken too long to decide this again, so he follows Merida and hurries off the plane.

As soon as they’re off the plane, the air changes. Unlike the crisp, cold, polluted New York City air, this air is humid, tropical, and clean. Jack breathes it in.

“This is crazy,” he tells Merida.

“I know,” she says.

They wait for Hiccup, Astrid, Rapunzel, and Eugene. The beautiful girl he was seated next to exits first, and he watches her go, a little sadly, with the knowledge that he will probably never see her again (and has entirely missed his chance to make any connection or conversation with her at all). Soon, Hiccup and Astrid join them, then Rapunzel and Eugene, all stretching their legs and backs a little as they make their way to the baggage claim.

“Jack fell in love on the way here,” Merida teases him.

“What?” he looks at her, incredulous. “No I did not. She’s lying.”

“Typical,” Hiccup says. “What happened?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jack answers truthfully. He spots his bag on the luggage claim and goes over to it, seeing Rapunzel’s immediately after. Since he’s closest, he takes it for her, and then goes back over to the group.

Hiccup laughs a little, good-naturedly, and not at him, and Jack closes that chapter of his life; the time he fell in love at first sight with a girl on an airplane and never spoke to her once. Or ever again.

As they’re waiting for their shuttle to arrive to take them to the hotel, Jack sees her. The shock of pale blonde hair, and her blue long-sleeved shirt are unmistakable. She doesn’t look his way.

“Imagine that girl’s going to the same place we are,” Jack murmurs to Hiccup, almost without meaning to. He just can’t get her out of his head.

Merida looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No way,” Astrid says.

Well,” Hiccup starts, trying to be gentle. “It’s not entirely impossible,” he offers, seeing the shuttle arrive.

There’s one thing that’s for sure: Jack is smitten.

As soon as Elsa has WiFi again, she finds just around ten texts from Anna asking how she is, if she landed okay, how the air smells, how bright the colors are, and to call her as soon as possible. Elsa contemplates and replies to each of the questions in turn – she’s good, the landing was all right, beautiful,

so so

vibrant, and that she will call her tomorrow morning, after she’s had some time to settle in.

Elsa arrives at the hotel at around 5:50 pm, and it is one of the most beautiful places she has ever seen. She’s been lucky enough to have gone on many vacations in her youth, and to have studied abroad in Italy her senior year of college, but the palm trees, and the deep blue sky, and the clean, fresh air that is so unlike her day-to-day floors her in an entirely new way.

The hotel lobby is crisp, and clean, and a hotel porter arrives immediately to take her suitcase. She holds onto her backpack while she checks in, and continues to look around. There is a large balcony overlooking the bottom part of the main lobby, and when she looks down she can see a bar, and a large Christmas tree, decorated with pink and golden ornaments in the corner. She is given two keys for her room.

After she checks in, she wanders over to a table of fruits and sweets, taking an orange and peeling it thoughtfully. She is not terribly hungry, due to the not half-bad chicken parmesan on the flight– and not nearly as tired as she would have imagined after the last twelve hours cooped up on an airplane, so she goes down to the bar and orders a cocktail that is more sugar than alcohol, and then sets off to find her room.

The hotel is huge– it’s like a maze trying to get around, and everything looks the same to her at first. She tries to commit her path to memory– there is a small water-park area that must be for kids and young teens, but could be some fun if she had someone to go there with… and pools with large waterfall structures, each with a nearby bar and food area for easy access. Past the pools is a small rock walkway that leads down to the beach, and she can’t resist. She abandons her room and wanders down to the beach, even though she’s still in her travelling tennis shoes, she breathes in the smell of the ocean, gazing at the pure blue water.

She walks along the shore for a little while, seeing all kinds of shells and rocks that she would love to examine further and maybe bring back for Anna, but the sun is quickly setting and she realizes she should definitely locate her room and then unpack a little, and maybe find somewhere for a light snack and maybe another weak drink before she goes to bed. It’s six pm here, but it’s twelve am at home.

Her room is directly above the beach, barely five minutes away, which is ridiculously lucky considering the gargantuan size of this resort, and she sends a silent prayer to her parents thanking them. She holds her key against the door, and the little light above the lock flashes green. The room is pristine, so clean, and so untouched that she barely wants to set foot in it, let alone unpack, lest she ruin the perfection. She walks in anyway.

The bed seems so big, and so lonely, for just one person. It’s a king, much bigger than what she is used to at home. She places her suitcase on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, and opens it, removing her clothing items and placing her toiletries in their place. Connected to the bed space is a small sink and mirror, and a little to the left of that is a shower, covered by a glass door, and another glass door covering the toilet.

She walks around to the other side of her bed, pressing her hands against the mattress. It is quite firm, but that doesn’t phase her. There is a TV across from the bed, but she thinks she won’t spend much time with that. The glass doors next to her bed open onto the beach, and she thanks the heavens again for her luck. She opens the door and slips outside, satisfied with her unpacking for now, and breathes in the fresh, tropical air again, enjoying the pretty painted sky, the pink, orange, and purplish hues of the sun set.

After she unpacks, she wanders around the resort again, and goes a long way to get a drink from the main bar. It’s dark out now, but there are still a few stragglers in each pool, young women in two pieces, it looks like one is even matching with her boyfriend, a floral orange bikini and matching swim trunks. There are families with young children and babies, mothers coaxing their kids to get out of the water and dry off for dinner reservations– grandmothers, sisters, and cousins, and friends.

She orders her drink, alone.

At the bar, she sees a group of friends, and the boy and girl who sat next to her on the plane. She didn’t talk to them then, and she shouldn’t now— this trip is for her to rest, recuperate, become inspired– not make friends she’ll never see again. There would be no point to that– it would only lead to goodbye and at most following each other on social media that she rarely updates anyway. No point.

Something about the boy catches her eye. He’s got this dark brunette hair, and deep, strikingly blue eyes. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. He’s probably with that red-headed girl, anyway, they seemed very familiar, and she should just forget about them. She’s tried to forget about him since the plane, and here he is. She knows that he also flew in from New York– and assumes he’s from around there, and will likely be staying for a similar duration as her. She

knows

she isn’t here to make friends or connections or whatever it would mean if she went up and talked to these people. Yet, something in her is telling her to do it. It was impulse that led her here in the first place. Shouldn’t she continue to follow her impulses now?

The boy laughs at something one of his friends said, loud and infectious, throwing his head back, revealing beautiful white teeth, barely able to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

She takes her drink, and leaves.

Forgoing the snack, she takes small sips of her drink on the balcony by her room, and then tries to sleep. It’s one in the morning at home— she’s already going to have enough jet lag.

It’s useless, though, she’s always had trouble sleeping in new places, and eventually, she gives up, making her way down to the beach.

“No way,” Jack nudges Hiccup, at the bar, only two drinks in but feeling a little buzzed and overall ecstatic to be here for more reasons than one. The first: he’s in fucking Hawaii– and he’s twenty-one and has the world at his finger-tips, or so it feels like. The second: the girl from the plane is here. The girl from the plane is here and he just saw her, and he saw her walk away and head down towards the beach.

He’s trying to decide if following her would be creepy or not- and Hiccup’s still asking him what he’s so damn excited about–

“That girl,” Jack finally says. “From the plane.”

“Yeah?” Hiccup jars him, swirling the cherries in his drink around a bit.

“She’s here.”

“Where?” he asks.

Rapunzel and Eugene are already dancing to the live music– something upbeat and new, and Merida and Astrid have gone looking for excursions they can do later in the week, so it’s just Hiccup and Jack at the bar.

“I just saw her. She ordered a drink and left,” Jack says. He puts his drink down on the table and looks at the swirling colors – a daiquiri of sorts, orange and blood red mixed together. “She’s alone.”

“Okay. Usually I would tell you to go investigate, but following a girl alone on a beach might not be the best move for you. Yet,” Hiccup adds, seeing Jack’s face. “Damn. You really like her.”

“I haven’t even spoken a word to her!” Jack tries to defend himself, but it’s useless. His crush on this girl, like most of his emotions, are written all over his face.

“Hey, maybe you will,” Hiccup says, trying to be supportive, but it falls flat on Jack’s ears as he watches Rapunzel and Eugene dance. “You never know.”

A few drinks later, the couples decide to turn in, and then Merida tells Jack she’s gonna head in, and then Jack is left alone. There are a few other couples on the dance floor next to the bar, there’s a small stage above it with a singer, guitarist, drummer, and bassist, still as energetic as they were a few hours ago. It’s probably two in the morning in New York.

Jack is exhausted– but he can’t possibly go to bed now.

He goes down to the beach, finishing his drink and leaving it on the table at the beach-side bar, before following the rocky path and then nearly having a heart attack when he runs straight into someone.

It’s almost pitch black out, no light pollution like there is at home, so he doesn’t see her at first, already tripping over himself with apologies, his heart in his throat and racing wildly, when he pulls back and sees her.

“Hi,” he blurts. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, it’s so dark-”

“It’s okay,” the girl says, and her voice is like honey. His heart, which was beating wildly, seems to stop for a moment with time.

“I’m Jack,” he says, needing to say something, to fill the silence– and he’s been wanting to say his name and learn hers for what feels like ages now.

They’re still standing there, at the bottom of the rocky path, the waves lapping at the shore, with a quiet rush. He tries to calm his heart. He holds out his hand to her, to shake.

“Elsa,” she responds, her tone quiet, and serene, compared to his barely thought out words and actions. She is an angel; her blonde hair somehow still looks white-gold in this light. She shakes his hand politely, and her skin is soft, and smooth.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, for lack of anything else to say, and it’s quiet again, and he realizes they’re still in each other’s way, and his heart is still beating very intently against his ribcage.

“Likewise,” she says, and then makes to move past him, and he apologizes again, for still being in her way, and she says it’s okay again, and then she’s gone, just as the waves lap at the shore and fall behind back into the ocean, Jack is with her, with Elsa, and then alone, on the beach, his flip-flops stuck into the sand.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack.

He’s so beautiful it hurts her to even think about it again. She knew it from the moment she saw him on the plane– when they first locked eyes, icy blue against a deeper, oceanic shade. She would have to be blind not to see it, but the way she is so drawn to him and his friends, though she knows she’s not here to socialize. Any friendships that she makes would cease to exist in less than five days anyway. She’s being childish, but she can’t get him out of her head.

She almost succeeded in blocking him out until she saw him again at the bar and now– the beach.

This must be some cruel twist of a higher power that they keep running into each other– but she doesn’t believe in that sort of thing.

She’s never been drawn to anyone like this before.

A strong coincidence, perhaps. Elsa does not believe in fate.

He’s handsome in a boyish sort of way– his eyes are so painfully honest, and so blue, from what she could see of them in the dark and on the plane especially. He’s taller than her by a good few inches– his body lanky, but the set of his shoulders and jaw tell her that he’s strong. He has a confidence about him that she admires, almost wishes she had for herself and is… endeared to, in a way– and… painfully attracted to.

Good God. She comes all this way to write, to live, to breathe for herself, only to get distracted by a stupid boy on the first night.

Elsa doesn’t sleep for a long time.

She just can’t stop thinking about him— and his friends– across the way at the bar a few hours ago, dancing and laughing so easily with each other. She feels creepy, strange, and so alone with her longing for… something that she can’t quite put a name to.

The reason why she came here– to escape, but also to find something out. About herself? About the world?

Frustrated, she sits up in bed, tossing the heavy hotel covers to the side and grabbing her laptop. The glass door is quite difficult to open, but she manages, and takes a seat on the plush, outdoor couch on her beachside porch.

What right does she have to feel any of this? She’s in paradise.

She opens her laptop to a blank document, and stares at it.

Who was Elsa kidding? She shouldn’t have come here. She doesn’t know what she’s doing— and she should go online now and book the next flight home instead of looking at excursions or day-dreaming about the beach. She needs to get her head out of the clouds and her feet out of the sand and plant them back where they belong. In New York. In a new apartment– working with a new agent– writing another book she’s wanted and waited so long to create. So much schooling and hard work she went through to get here… and now.

She can’t stop thinking about Jack, and how badly she stupidly,

selfishly

wanted to talk to him and his friends. There were… three girls and three boys– and two of them seemed to be paired up together– the girl with long, golden blond hair past her waist was dancing with the man with a goatee – the way they looked at each other– and then

Jack

, she knows his name now, though she was trying so hard not to think it because it reminded her too much of how he said it– and he laughed so hard at whatever it was his friend said. Elsa questions if Jack and the redheaded girl are together, and even entertains the idea for a moment, before dismissing it, saying it does not matter, anyway. Nothing will come of her pointless attraction to him. All she needs to do is stop thinking about it.

She thought coming here would make her feel better, but she just feels more and more alone.

She slams her laptop shut.

She came all this way on an impulse, a whim, an idea of post-masters degree quarter-life crisis to reconcile something within her from childhood, and decided to do it alone, without Anna, or Kristoff, or anyone to help her. So even if she does meet these people and talk to them– and who knows what can happen in five days– nothing would matter because it’s just five days.

She’s already, impulsively, thousands of miles away from home.

Elsa pushes her laptop aside, and reopens the screen door. She pulls her hair free of its braid, untangling the blond stands methodically, calmly, as she has always done.

She inhales deeply, and then exhales– feeling the rise and fall of her shoulders and the expansion and contraction of her rib cage.

She looks out at the beach, at the sky and the stars and hears the waves crashing against the shore, as easy as breathing, just as they have done for thousands of years.

She thinks, just maybe, she needs to learn to relinquish her control.

She wakes up early, or earlier than most, she guesses, because the resort is still relatively quiet at eight in the morning.

One night down. One night gone.

Time stretches into the afternoon back in New York, where Anna eagerly awaits Elsa’s call.

1 missed call from

Anna <3

Anna: hey, sorry i called i forgot it was early and didn’t know if you’d be awake

Anna: how’s Hawaii so far?

Anna: we miss you back here <3

img.18

Anna: gimme a call when you get the chance

Elsa opens the image– a selfie of Anna, Kristoff, and their dog Sven, standing by the Christmas tree they have yet to take down. She gives her a call

“Elsa!” Anna exclaims, picking up on the first ring. “How are you?!”

“I’m good,” Elsa says, smiling, as she  walks around to the side of her bed, folding down the sheets and blankets. She makes the bed, although she knows housekeeping can do it, it’s a habit of hers and it just makes her feel good.

“That’s great– how warm is it over there?” Anna asks.

“Pretty warm,” Elsa replies, looking out the window. The sun just rose an hour ago, so it's not yet scorching the entire resort. It looks comfortable outside, warm. She checks the weather app on her phone, keeping Anna on speaker. “It’s about 81 degrees.”

“That’s amazing,” Anna says. Elsa can hear the smile in her voice– her genuine happiness– although there is a twinge of something else. “I’m jealous. It’s freezing here.” Anna wishes she could be here, too, Elsa knows. She feels badly again for coming here alone.

Biting her lip, Elsa tries to think of something to say to make her feel better, and comes up empty-handed. “Yeah. It’s pretty great.”

“What have you been up to?” Anna asks– Elsa can see her in her mind's eye, and she knows she’s pacing like she always does when she’s on the phone, maybe twirling a lock of red hair around her finger. Elsa almost wishes she was here but she wanted to come here on her own. She did. It has to have been the right choice.

“Nothing really, just settling in,” Elsa replies, trying to sound casual and not at all nervous or freaking out or having a quarter-life crisis or anything like that.

“Have you met anyone interesting– made any friends yet or anything like that?” Anna asks.

Elsa’s breath catches a little– and she thinks about Jack again, at the beach last night, his dark brown hair and strikingly candid way of speaking, so genuine in his apologies and the way he said his (and her) name, and his group of friends and how well they all seemed to know each other– dancing carelessly on the dance floor, knowing each other’s drink orders at the bar, wandering around the resort but always knowing they had a place to come home to– each other.

“Not yet,” Elsa says as one word– she took a longer pause than she intended to, she doesn’t want Anna to think something is wrong, although judging by the fact that she is in Hawaii with no prior knowledge or planning (other than booking the flight and hotel) that she was going to be in Hawaii, something is probably wrong.

“Oh,” Anna says, thoughtfully. “That makes sense. It’s still early.”

“Yeah,” Elsa says.

“It’s always interesting– and fun, you know? The people you meet on vacation.”

Elsa thinks of Jack, again, and quickly tries to clear all thoughts of him from her head. He’s just a boy she happened to run into on the beach and sit next to on the plane - and it doesn’t mean anything whatsoever and just because he’s cute and she’s attracted to him does not mean… anything at all.

“Yeah– I’m sorry Anna, I gotta go. Breakfast just opened and all, I want to beat the rush.” There’s not going to be a rush, but Elsa can’t think of anything else to say.

“No problem. I understand. Send me pictures of the beach, okay? And the waterfalls– if you go see them?”

“I will,” Elsa says, happy that they are back to comfortable topics, and not the extremely

uncomfortable

unfathomable idea of meeting and making friends on vacation- which is, she supposes what normal people do.

People who aren’t here on a ridiculous short-sighted whim fresh off graduate school with a very detailed and drawn-out five year plan that suddenly seems so daunting. People who aren’t her.

They say their good-byes and I love yous, and Elsa changes out of her pajamas and into a simple blue dress with white flowers printed on it that falls to about her knees. Elsa finds her small bottle of sunscreen and rubs it in on her chest and face and exposed areas, before she sets out for her day, enjoying the therapeutic feeling of an almost massage. Although it is her own hands– and it might feel better if it was somebody else’s- she’s still caring for and protecting herself by putting on sunscreen.

As she expected, not maybe people are awake so early on vacation, so there's not much of a line for one person. Breakfast is a beautiful buffet of fresh fruits and baked goods, along with scrambled eggs, bacon and the typical American breakfast foods. Elsa winds up near the smoothie bar and combines mangos, strawberries, and bananas in a delicious concoction, choosing a pastry to accompany her fruits. She’s a little sheepish about being alone, noticing, but not openly staring, at the families with babies, and couples lovingly gazing at each other over their eggs.

She takes her glass and wraps the lemon-flavored pastry in a napkin, and walks back to the beach.

The beach is by far her favorite. They have beaches in New York– obviously, it’s on the East Coast- but nothing like this. This water is warm, and beautifully colored. It’s almost turquoise near the surface, but the deeper she looks, the more pigmented the blue becomes. It’s so clear she can see brightly colored fish swimming around in the distance. There’s a woman, standing in the water, with long red hair, and a child next to her with identical hair and a look of love. The fish swim around them in loops, the school creating a beautiful, unique flurry of oranges, yellows, reds, and blues, as the mother breaks off bread and hands it to her daughter. The fish eat straight out of her hand.

Elsa misses her mother with everything she has, and thanks her again, in her heart and mind for

everything

she is, has, and all she will ever be.

Elsa makes a note to find some bread and bring it back to the fish.

She goes back to her room, resolving to at least get something done on her computer, opening another Google doc. She writes about the beach, the fish, and the mother and daughter feeding them. She describes the colors in delicate detail, and the way the sun reflects off the ocean, giving everything a warm, bright glow.

Searching through her bag, she finds her blue, cat-eye sunglasses and puts them on, able to see better against the sun and hopefully think more clearly.

Inspiration still won’t come.

Taking a deep breath, she wills herself not to be frustrated, to stop thinking about work and home, Anna and Kristoff and New York, her writing and her degree, Jack and his friends and just… breathes in the ocean breeze and the palm trees, feeling the sun hit her face.

Thankful she for her sunscreen, she wanders over to the small food shack by the bar in the main pool area, looking around the resort, almost paranoid she’ll see Jack and his friends again, yet weirdly excited by the absurd but not unlikely possibility at the same time. She picks up some french fries for the fish, and then heads back to the beach to feed them.

Elsa stays by the shore at first, taking off her shoes and curling her toes in the wet sand, enjoying the feel of it between her toes. She feeds them from her station, her dress still safe for now, as she finds out how far the fish will venture from their safe home to catch what they need. A few of them leave, but most of them are just afraid enough that they stay back, so she throws little pieces of broken french fry into the water, watching the red, orange, yellow fish scoop them up in waiting mouths, laughing as they gulp them up.

One fish strays far from the school. He’s smaller than the rest, and stays near to her even after she runs out of french fries.

“Hi little guy,” she says to him, placing her finger in the water.

The fish stays where he is, his mouth still gaping, waiting for something, wanting more.

“I’ll bring more later. I promise,” she tells him, sweetly, electing not to care that she’s talking to a fish. “I’ll come back for you.”

Seemingly satisfied by this, he swims away. Elsa sits down in the sand, wanting to feel it on the backs of her legs and all over, not caring that her dress is going to be covered in sand and that she probably looks a little unstable to any passerby, and that she probably should have put her swimsuit on before she came out here. The sand is beautiful, and warm, and so much softer than it is in New York— almost pure white, with sea shells hiding in it everywhere she looks. She stays there for a bit while the waves crash against the shore, before she climbs back up the rocky path to her room to reapply sunscreen and change into her swimsuit— a simple, dark blue one-piece with a cut out around her rib cage, for style. Anna bought it for her last year, insisting she have something more than just the practical light blue one piece she always used to wear before this. Anna also bought her something else to wear - but Elsa isn’t so sure she wants to wear it yet.

Wandering around the beach, she stumbles upon a small cabin-like structure near the end of the beach. There’s a woman inside, dressed in what Elsa assumes is a wet-suit and surfing gear, and behind her is an impressive array of surfboards and snorkeling gear– flippers of different sizes, and goggles that cover the nose and mouth, varying colors and sizes. Elsa walks up to her, curious, turning to look back at the water for a second, and the fish inside of it.

She decides to rent some snorkeling gear.

“Jack.”

Startled, Jack sits up in bed, pulling his leg back under the covers where Hiccup had grabbed his ankle to wake him. He hears Hiccup laughing at him, and he squints up at him slightly, questioningly.

“Breakfast is gonna close in thirty minutes. Rapunzel, Astrid, and I already ate. We’ll be by the pool whenever you wanna join us,” Hiccup tells him, going over to the mini-fridge to find a water.

“‘kay,” Jack says, stretching. The sofa bed had not been too kind to him, the springs jutting into his back every now and again. He got back pretty damn late last night after…

Elsa.

He didn’t sleep very well after that, up late thinking about her– as if he could stop thinking about her in the first place, even before he literally ran into her on the beach and embarrassed himself more than was at all necessary.

But hey, he’s in Hawaii, so none of that matters.

Elsa

. Her name fits her face so well– so beautiful, and soft, and gentle, and he already stayed up half the night thinking about her and now had to at least attempt to act normal so his friends wouldn’t suspect anything was up, even though Merida had totally exposed him after the plane ride, he would try to salvage himself from Hiccup teasing him for as long as he could.

Jack looks back to the cot where Merida is still sleeping, her bright red hair curling all over the place, a stark contrast to the white blankets and sheets. Their room is insanely nice– Jack was shocked when they first walked in yesterday, but he didn’t have enough time to appreciate it due to his eagerness to be outside, in the warm, humid air.

It’s like two rooms in one. There is a wall with an open doorway connecting the two. The main bedroom contains two queen beds– Hiccup and Astrid took the one closest to the door, while Eugene and Rapunzel took the one closest to the wall– and across from the beds are two TVs. Jack doesn’t know who would put both TVs on at once, but there they are, and a dresser situation where they unpacked some of their clothes. Before the doorway to walk into the second room, where Jack and Merida are staying, there is a large walk-in closet, with an ironing board and tons of space for them to put any other clothes they might want to put away for some reason. Jack has chosen not to unpack yet, or potentially ever, but Rapunzel and Eugene like to and he thinks Astrid does as well. Then, the walkway opens to the second room, where there are two couches- one is a pull-out, which Merida and Jack rock paper scissored for (and Jack only now semi-regrets winning, because the cot they asked for from the front desk seems much comfier)- and a TV across from them. Behind the second couch is Merida’s cot, and next to the door outside is another, smaller bathroom, with a shower and everything. This is seriously the biggest hotel room Jack’s ever set foot in his life. Two showers. It’s crazy. And they have two huge glass windows with a large, connecting balcony for each bedroom.

Hiccup’s left the room with Astrid, Rapunzel has stayed back, and Jack thinks she might go back to the breakfast buffet just so she sticks with Eugene. Merida gets up shortly after Jack does– he goes to the bathroom to wash his face and change out of his pajamas and into his swimsuit– and waits for Merida to do the same.

“Good morning,” Rapunzel greets him brightly, walking back into the living room. She’s wearing a pale pink dress, and he sees she also already has her swimsuit on from the straps showing on her shoulder.

“Morning,” he says back, realizing he should probably re-make the sofa bed. He takes all the pillows off, one by one, stacking them on the ground before refolding the couch and putting the pillows back on.

Eugene walks out from the other room, following Rapunzel.

“Morning,” he tells Jack, and Jack says the same.

“How’d you guys sleep?” Rapunzel asks, walking over to the mirror above the first couch. She pulls her long blond hair into a braid behind her, and Eugene finds his sandals and puts them on.

“Pretty good,” Jack says. “You?”

“Good,” she says, the same, turning to face him, and Merida exits the bathroom then, wearing a turquoise tank-top and jean shorts. “Did you put on your swimsuit too?” Rapunzel asks.

“Yeah,” Merida responds, tying up her hair. She struggles with it for a second, finally getting the rubber band around the messy red curls. “We goin’ straight to the beach after? Or the pool?”

“I think the pool,” Eugene replies. “That’s what Hiccup said.”

“Sick,” she says.

“We ready?” Rapunzel asks, locking the balcony door before they leave.

Merida nods, and they head out the door to breakfast.

“How was the buffet?” Jack asks Rapunzel, looking around the resort again. It looks even more beautiful in the daylight- he squints against the powerful sun, looking at the palm trees and other greenery– small shrubs and bushes with pink and orange flowers growing from them.

“It was really good,” she responds. “They have everything and anything you could possibly want– smoothies, an omelet bar, yogurt, bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, Nutella–”

“Nutella?” Jack says. “I haven’t had that in forever.”

“I know!” Rapunzel exclaims.

“Did you have an omelet? How were they?” Eugene asks her, and she shakes her head.

“No, but Astrid did– it looked perfect. They make them in front of you and everything. It was so cool.”

“I’ll try one,” Merida says.

“How about the smoothies?” Eugene asks, as they approach the buffet. Jack is still thinking about the Nutella as they enter the restaurant and are seated, and Rapunzel somehow forgot to mention the insanely huge pile of sweets– banana bread, pumpkin bread, various pastries. Jack counts lemon, strawberry, and mango desserts– other bread covered in chocolate, and of course, next to the waffle station is jam, jelly, and last but not least, Nutella.

Jack tries, really, not to gorge himself too much, but, well. Nutella.

After breakfast, they meet Hiccup and Astrid at the main pool, and hang around there for a few hours– one of the entertainment staff who works at the resort comes by and sets up this huge bungee-jumping trampoline and ropes, and cords and all that, like the kind they have at carnivals and fairs– so Merida and Jack immediately race each other to get in line, the rest of the group hot on their heels.

They enjoy the pool, and bottomless chocolate-flavored cocktails, pina coladas, Dirty Shirleys, and rum and Cokes. Jack eventually just switches to plain Coke, because Merida starts slurring her words slightly and Eugene’s getting overly excited about something and Rapunzel’s encouraging him- and that’s how Jack knows it’s time to stop. And, in the unlikely case he sees Elsa again. He doesn’t want to be wasted for that. Quite yet. Or probably hopefully ever, if there is a hypothetical ever, again.

At some point, Jack takes a break from pool volleyball to refresh their drinks and de-prune his fingers, and Astrid accompanies him, the rest of them continuing to play.

“When do you think that kid’s gonna ask for his ball back?” Astrid asks, wringing her hair out as they step out of the pool.

“Huh?” Jack asks, not realizing they had hap-hazardly stolen some child’s ball before playing an innocent (but rowdy) game of pool volleyball.

“The kid, standing by the side of the pool, patiently waiting for our idiots to be done.” Astrid laughs a little.

“Well, he gets next game,” Jack decides, looking at the kid she’s referencing. They didn’t know it was his– so it’s not like they intentionally stole it from him. Jack’s sure he’ll get it back in a while, or join them.

They make their way to the bar– Jack orders a Coke, and Astrid orders a few more sugary cocktails for their friends– while they’re waiting for the drinks, Jack finds a TV with the resort itinerary on it, perusing it to see if there’s anything cool to do tonight or tomorrow.

“Live music tonight– that’s pretty damn sick,” Jack comments, as the bartender finishes pouring his Coke and hands it to him.

“Yeah, we should come check it out after dinner,” Astrid agrees, looking at the itinerary.

“Any ideas on where we’re going yet?” Jack asks, taking a swig of his Coke.

“Rapunzel and Eugene wanted Italian, Hiccup and I were leaning more towards the French place, personally…”

“So it’s up to Merida and I?” Jack smiles. “I’ll have to think on that.”

“We’ll have time to try all of the restaurants in the next week,” Astrid reminds him.

“True,” Jack says, taking two of the drinks handed to him while Astrid carries the rest back to the game.

The kid does join them in the next game– and he’s actually pretty good, too. His name is Jamie, and he’s from Virginia, and he’s got a little sister named Sophie. Watching them interact reminds Jack of his little sister, and he misses her again all of a sudden, like he used to miss his family when he first left for college. He’ll shoot her a text later– maybe a picture of the palm trees. She’ll appreciate those.

Eventually they tire of volleyball and crowd around the main food area, snacking on fresh fruits and other assorted foods– grilled meats and vegetables that they plate together to make a meal.

Jack enjoys his food, but while he’s eating, he can’t help but look around for Elsa, subtly of course– he is the

master

of subtly– but he feels like… like he’s missing her almost. Even though they’ve barely had a conversation.

He uses his deductive reasoning skills to conclude he is clinically insane.

And he doesn’t see her– so he jumps back in the pool– yes on a full stomach, no he did not wait twenty minutes– and they find a football to throw around, and he tries, and fails to forget about her for a short while.

Elsa rents some snorkeling gear and ventures out into the relatively shallow water, so clear she can see the sand and her feet sinking into it underneath her. The ocean is so, so beautiful. She finds herself increasingly grateful she came all this way and stayed and splurged on snorkeling gear, after all.

She puts her face under the water, feeling her hair get wet and sink, falling on her neck and down her back. The water and the creatures within it are even more striking up close.

Elsa makes it her private mission to find her fish from earlier. He may be long gone by now, but she has a gut feeling he stuck around.

Swimming a little further out, she discovers an area of rocks and boulders, and sees a different species of fish swimming around them.

This must be their home

. She starts to smile, then remembers she shouldn’t do that with the snorkel in her mouth.

These fish are bigger, with slightly rounder bodies, and their colors are different, yet just as vibrant in purple and blue hues. Elsa observes them as they swim around and watch her in turn. She stays still, and as quiet as she can be underwater. They are unafraid, yet vigilant. She admires that trait in them, and continues to admire their beautiful coloring and swimming patterns, as they swim in circles together.

She swims around a little more, finding the school of fish from earlier, and they’re still swimming around vivaciously looking for food, she assumes, and examining her, assessing if she is a threat. She wants to tell them, or show them that she won’t hurt them, so she remains still, and calm, and they continue swimming, until eventually, a little red fish swims so close to her, they’re almost touching.

She found him.

Of course she knows logically that it is very likely this is an entirely different fish than the one from before. But it makes her heart happy to think that this is

her

fish, that she and this little fish have a tiny unspoken bond, as weird as that is. She reaches her hand out, and he swims underneath it. His vibrant red color is inspiring and astounding all at once.

Elsa swims and stays in the shallow water, gazing at the fish and sinking her toes in the sand for as long as she is allowed, a little past the hour she rented the gear, and way past when her fingers (and toes) have started to prune and become mildly uncomfortable.

She gets out and dries off, and her hair smells like salt now, but she’s happy. Despite everything that’s happened to get here and all of her intrusive thoughts, or maybe because of it all and battling with her brain – she’s happy.

Without much else left to do, and immensely grateful for that fact, Elsa sits on the balcony by her room and lays out in the sun for as long as her pale skin will allow her, making sure to apply ample sunscreen beforehand.

Once the sun dips a little lower in the sky, she figures it’s time to go get cleaned up and find something for a late lunch / early dinner. She peels off her wet swimsuit and hangs it up to dry outside the shower, and then takes her time washing the sea-salt out of her hair, enjoying the feel of the soapy shampoo between her fingers as she cards through the delicate blond strands, ensuring all of the ocean is washed out of it. She scrubs her body with the light blue loofah she brought from home, seeing that the sunscreen washes off her skin and rinses down the train. She relishes in the ritual of cleanliness– she has always enjoyed a long shower, especially after a day at the beach.

Elsa ends up finding dinner at the buffet again, and again takes a small portion of food in a napkin and goes to sit at the main bar. She orders a drink for herself, the first one she’ll have had all day. She wants to try the different cuisine they offer, but as much as she doesn’t mind (or tells herself she doesn’t, anyway) being alone, she knows that it’s weird. She feels weird, and self-conscious, sitting amongst all these families and couples and friends and people who love each other, like Jack and his friends do.

She nurses her drink, a simple Margarita, sitting at the bar for a while. She is intrigued by the band setting up on the stage in front of it, and wonders if it’s the same one as last night. So she decides to stick around and watch for a while, feeling like she should stay, idly hoping she’ll see Jack again. Though she can’t explain it– instead of crushing this dim hope, she listens, and stays.

The hotel room is a mess even after barely 24 hours, clothes and drinks and empty water-bottles and misplaced sunglasses and sandals, and Jack swears he saw his other shoe somewhere around here? Maybe he left it outside?

Eugene is waiting at the door, the first one ready to go, as always, and Rapunzel and Astrid are both blow-drying their hair at the same time and it is much louder than Jack considered a blow-dryer to be. His shower was quick, practical, so Merida could hop in right after and get cleaned up as well.

Finally finding his other shoe (it was by the door, where it’s supposed to be), he puts it on and unbuttons the top two buttons of his Hawaiian shirt- a blue one with yellow and orange flowers, a bit of an eyesore really, but what’s the point if it’s not?

“How much longer you think they’ll take?” Jack asks Eugene, going over to stand by the door. Jack runs a hand through his still slightly damp hair, shaking his head a little to ring out the water in his ears.

Eugene sucks a breath between his teeth. “Jeez, with ‘Punzie, you never know. Thirty minutes? Give or take?” he offers.

Jack sighs and looks at his feet, messing with the worn-down sandals. He’s gonna need a new pair by the time this trip is over– he’s had these for about four years now.

“I can go put our names in– if that’s okay–”

“Yeah,” Eugene says. He flips his sunglasses up, peeking his head into the other room, seeing Rapunzel and Astrid are still nowhere near ready.

Merida walks out of the bathroom fully dressed in a turquoise tank top and jean shorts, her hair still dripping a little.

“Where’re we goin’?” she asks, pulling her hair back into an intricate-looking braid.

“I was just gonna go put our names in at one of the restaurants while we wait for everyone else to finish getting ready,” Jack tells her.

“I’ll go with you,” Merida says. She opens the door.

“We’ll meet you there,” Eugene tells them. “Just text us which place.”

“Sounds good,” Jack says, and he closes the door. Merida rings out her hair a little more, and puts her sunglasses on. Jack does the same, though the sun is almost set. “So, which place d’you wanna go to?”

“I was thinking Italian,” Merida answers.

“Same– so we’ll put our names in there, and then we could probably just stick around the bar area. I think the band will be playing.”

“And you’re hoping you’ll see that girl again, arencha?” Merida teases him.

“What?” He vaguely attempts to pretend like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You came in late last night. Hiccup said you followed her to the beach.”

“Look– okay, I did not follow her,” Jack defends himself, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I couldn’t sleep, I went for a walk, and yes we ran into each other, but. It’s nothing, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. If you say so. It’s a small resort, y’know,” Merida shrugs.

“I know.” It doesn’t mean anything, he thinks again, no matter how badly he wants to see her and talk to her again, for real this time. Like he feels like he should’ve the first time.

They put their names in at the Italian place, give their room number, receive a buzzer, and are told that it’s a forty-five minute wait time. This gives more than enough time for the rest of their clan to finish getting ready and join them, and for Merida and Jack to order drinks at the bar, listen to the live band, and watch the sun go down.

And then Jack sees her. Elsa is already sitting at the bar, across from them, and it’s a big stretch so he doesn’t know if she’s noticed him or if she will or if he should expect her to. She’s watching the band, and her eyes are so intrigued and focused, her body language and posture as perfect and pristine as it was on the plane. This time she wears a blue, off the shoulder-dress with white flowers, and her hair is pulled up in a bun with the white-gold strands falling out to frame her face.

“Jack,” Merida says. “You’re starin’ again.”

He looks at her, straight-faced, but he can’t even attempt to defend himself. “Yeah. You got me.”

“You should go talk to her.”

Jack looks at Merida again, like she’s crazy. “She already probably thinks I’m nuts– I can’t just go up and talk to her for no apparent reason like, like the last time,” he rambles.

“Then find a reason.” Merida raises her eyebrows at him. He finds the time to down his drink and orders another, deciding he might need the liquid courage later if he does end up somehow going through with these psychotic ideas in his head and talking to her.

Eugene, Rapunzel, Hiccup and Astrid join them soon after, and Jack can’t leave and go talk to Elsa now, and besides she gets up and wanders off anyhow. He hopes she comes back– because he does really want to talk to her now, and if he got the chance, he swears he would. She seemed to be really enjoying the music; he could see her drumming her fingers on the table to the beat.

Dinner passes slowly, it feels like, and they all order a couple more drinks and more food than they could possibly eat, since it is all included. They try a little bit of everything with the possibility they may only have this luxury once in their lives. It’s filled with jokes at each other’s expense, loud-laughter, and made up games they’ve played for ages— so, Wavelength, Thumb Wars, Sticks- while they wait for their food. Each course is delicious and decadent and by the end Jack swears he will never eat that much again. Tomorrow, at breakfast, of course he’ll change his mind, but. Alas.

They meander back to the bar area. Jack is momentarily taken aback by what appears to be a wedding party– a woman in a long, flowing gown walks through the lobby, followed by two bridesmaids dressed in pale pink, who hold the train of her dress. A new band is playing, for them now, and they all dance and request songs, as he and his friends take their places at the bar, letting their food settle before they go back to the room. The wedding party takes the dance floor and eventually, like last night, Rapunzel drags Eugene back out there, much to his chagrin.

He wonders vaguely if Elsa was here, if they knew each other well enough, if she would dance with him– if she would let him dance with her. He doesn’t even

like

to dance anyway, and it’s unlikely she’s coming back. It’s getting late.

Hiccup stands up, and Astrid follows him.

“Hey, I think we’re gonna turn in,” he says, holding Astrid’s hand.

“Oh okay,” Jack says, lost in thought. He looks up to see them leave and then checks his watch. 10 pm. Late at home still. He vaguely wonders if he should be feeling more jet-lag, or something.

Eugene tires of dancing– Rapunzel sits down next to him for a while before they too decide to turn in for the night– then there are a few more stragglers from the wedding party, most of them shitfaced, which Jack privately thinks is hilarious, yet also sad that he’s relying on that for entertainment instead of… he doesn’t know really, focusing on his own life and not sitting here pining after a random girl who probably doesn’t even remember his name.

And then it’s just him and Merida.

“You’re waiting for her to come back, aren’t you?” She sees through him, and always has had the uncanny ability to do that, though he’s pretty sure he’s failing at being subtle here. The alcohol isn’t helping, even though the drinks are weak.

“I guess so.”

“Well. You gonna talk to her this time if she does? Or just sit around moping like a teenager on vacation with his parents?”

Jack glares at her, hard. Merida is one of his oldest friends, which means she simultaneously can be his best friend and his borderline arch nemesis. All in good fun, of course. Usually.

“Okay. I get it.”

“Well, I’m going to bed. Let me know how it works out.” She sips the last of her Dirty Shirley, leaving the cherry at the bottom, and then leaves him there alone.

Jack clenches his jaw, irrationally frustrated. He eats the damn cherry and sits there for a while. The band packs up, and the sound atmosphere is replaced with recent pop hits. Elsa doesn’t come back.

He stands up, walking back around to the front of the bar and ordering a last drink before bed just because he can– the same thing Merida had, with Raspberry vodka. He watches the bartender fill half the drink with alcohol, and then takes it and puts it to his lips, trying to get the cherry with his tongue, and wincing at the burn of the alcohol.

He almost coughs, and catches himself, when he turns around and hears her voice. Behind him. And then he does start to cough, in his surprise, the alcohol slipping down the wrong pipe in his throat.

And, because the universe is generous to him, or has cursed him, or something, she laughs.

It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, covering her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Mm,” he manages, swallowing his coughs. He’ll be fine.

A little Raspberry vodka in the lungs never hurt anybody, right?

“I’m fine. All good.” He coughs again, quietly.

The bartender stares at Jack incredulously. Jack feels much the same, and Elsa retrieves her water. While he was about to leave, he feels like he can’t exactly do that now so he sits back down where he was– and Elsa sits down

next to him.

It’s not like they’re the only people here, either. He doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of this. She takes a casual sip of her water. For once, Jack doesn’t know what to say.

“Elsa, right?” he finally asks, as if he could have forgotten her name.

“Yes,” she says, looking up, smiling at him with her blue, blue eyes.

“You came all this way for a water?” he asks, one of his lamer attempts at starting conversation, but they don’t know each other well enough yet (or at all, really), for him to tease, and it has been a long time since he has randomly talked to a stranger near or on a beach, okay, so, he asks her about her water.

Luckily she smiles. “Yes. I didn’t have any bottled water in my room, so I had to come find some.”

Jack takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, maybe I should try that,” he laughs at himself a little, and the Dirty Shirley that is mostly vodka in his hand.

Elsa has changed clothes since he last saw her a few hours ago, and is now wearing the NYU long-sleeve from the plane, and a pair of jean shorts that are almost hidden by the shirt’s length, and flip-flops. Her toes are painted dark blue. He looks at her NYU shirt.

“Did you go to NYU?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no, looking down at her shirt.

“No, my sister did. This is hers, actually,” Elsa says, picking a thread off one end of a worn sleeve. “I’m just borrowing it.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jack says, genuinely, trying to think quickly of other questions to ask that aren’t too invasive, to make small talk, to get to know her, hopefully, hoping she’ll want to know him, too. “Are you from New York?” he asks, another question. Hopefully she’ll ask him something next so he’s not just sitting out here interrogating her.

“No, actually,” she starts, taking a sip of her water. “I was born and grew up just outside of Boston, and then after my sister and I went away to college, our parents moved to New York, and then we just stayed there.” Elsa looks wistful as she talks, staring into her water. Jack wonders what she’s thinking about, when she asks him a question. “What about you? Are you from New York?”

“Just outside,” he says. “ ‘Bout forty-five minute drive in, hour train ride. I’ve lived and moved around in the New York area for a lot of my childhood– we actually lived in Rhode Island for a little while– but now I go to school in Syracuse, so…”

“Oh, you go to Syracuse?” she looks interested, and then almost… mildly surprised. She looks at his drink for a split second, and

oh

, oh no–

“I’m a senior,” he quickly clarifies. “I graduate in May.”

“What are you studying?” she asks him, intrigued.

“Psychology and Early Childhood Education,” he responds.

“Double major?”

He nods. “It’s a lot, but, at least I’m never bored, y’know?” He shrugs, and takes another sip of his drink, resisting wincing at the burn of it. He sets it down. “What about you?” He realizes he has no idea how old she is or what year she’s in, or if she’s even in college– and is he at the age yet where that’s rude to ask a woman? He doesn’t know.

“I got my Bachelors in English and Political Science, and I recently graduated with my masters in Creative Writing,” she looks down on the word, ‘masters,’ as Jack steels himself at the realization that she is

smart

, and definitely older than him. She seems almost shy about admitting she’s earned her masters degree, when Jack wants to congratulate her, is proud of her and… enamored by her. This is the longest conversation they’ve had.

He smiles. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.” He tries to catch her eye from where she’s still looking slightly downwards, hoping to get her to smile back at him.

“Thank you,” she says, almost like an admission, her voice quiet, introspective, but she smiles.

He grins. “And you decided to celebrate by coming to Hawaii?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Jack looks at her questioningly, and she stares back at him, her blue eyes hesitant– she wants to say something, he can tell, and they’re still strangers. Though, it doesn’t feel like it when she’s looking at him like this, like she trusts him, like she wants to know him.

“Y’know, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I didn’t even know I was coming here until…” she picks up her phone, and looks at the date. “Six days ago.”

Jack’s eyes widen, and he can’t deny it, he’s a little shocked. “Six days?”

“How long have you known you were coming here?” she asks him, and takes another sip of her water, calmly.

“Oh man, we’ve been dreaming about this trip for forever.” Jack runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “So when we were freshman in high school we all wanted to go on one big cross-country road trip for a senior trip. Of course at that time, we could neither afford it nor did we have the planning skills to pull off such a feat– and gradually, the whole driving for miles and miles thing became less appealing and as we approached junior year of college we started thinking of tropical locations… most of us wanted to escape the cold weather in December, so. Hawaii.”

“Hawaii,” Elsa repeats, watching him speak, paying attention to him. He feels his cheeks heat slightly under her gaze, and wills them not to, still nervous. “So you guys have been friends for a long time.”

“I’ve known Hiccup since grade school– and we were roommates in college, that’s where he met Astrid–” he sees Elsa looking thoughtful, and he realizes she doesn’t know any of these people (yet), and hopes he’ll get to introduce her in person. Maybe he’ll even convince Elsa to hang out with them… after all, she seems to still be… alone. “-that’s his girlfriend, at college, our freshman year. Rapunzel, she’s the one with the

long

blonde hair, and Merida- she has red hair, were best friends in middle school.” He feels like maybe he should clarify that he and Merida are not together— just because the other four are paired up… he doesn’t want Elsa to get the wrong idea. “They’re both long-time friends of mine. Hiccup and I started hanging out with them at the tail end of seventh grade, and we really got close in eighth.”

Elsa nods along, engaged.

Jack continues. “Rapunzel met Eugene, her boyfriend, when she was a sophomore and he was a junior– and the rest is history, I guess,” he finishes, and shrugs, feeling like he’s been talking too long, maybe even rambling. He glances at his drink which is still more than halfway full, and figures maybe he shouldn’t really have anymore, and it’s a good thing to forget about it for a while.

“That’s… beautiful,” Elsa says. “That you’ve all known each other for so long and stayed friends and… gone on this trip together.”

Jack watches her think carefully about her words, he talks again, filling the silence. “It’s pretty cool, yeah.” He thinks of Hiccup– the little boy, his first and best friend in childhood, and them through middle school– all the stupid cringe phases they went through together, and high school- the first school dances when they went with Rapunzel and Merida, before Eugene and Astrid joined the group as they grew older— and the college years, visiting each other on campus and still maintaining their friendship even miles and miles away. “I’m thankful for them.”

Elsa nods at him, and then takes the final sip of her water. The bartenders seem to be closing now. Jack didn’t even realize they’d talked for so long. He wants to ask Elsa more, about her sister, about how her trip has been so far, when they haven’t seen each other— he wants to have the gall to ask for her phone number, but doesn’t, he holds back, remains in control, and doesn’t follow his impulse. For once.

“What about you?” he asks, allowing himself one last question, for the night, if she makes a move to wrap it up, of course he will go along, and be grateful for the time they’ve had, and yes he will hope to see her again tomorrow, but he won’t worry about it and he certainly won’t lose sleep over it. “Are you and your sister close?”

Elsa looks at her empty water, and pauses, for a moment, before she answers. “Yes. Extremely,” she decides. “I just… wanted to come here alone.” Another admission to a complete stranger in what is quickly becoming (almost) the middle of the night.

Jack wants to ask why, and bites his tongue, and she looks at him with a small smile, and he smiles back and doesn’t ask her any more potentially invasive questions, and still:

They sit and talk, and talk, for a while longer– Jack, of course, never running out of things to say, and Elsa slowly warms up to him more and more, laughing at his jokes and losing herself slightly in the conversation. He forgets about his raspberry alcoholic concoction and she momentarily discontinues her attempts in getting another water from the now closed-down bar. Eventually, the conversation slows and one or both of them looks at the time, and–

“It’s getting late,” Elsa eventually says, waiting for him to finish a story, but holding her phone in her hand, clutching it to her tightly, wrapping her sleeves around her hands. It’s far from cold, but a bit windier than it was before.

Jack, after so many hours, looks at the time. 1:38. It is late.

“You’re right,” he answers, and he’s not going to be the one to say good-bye.

“We should probably head inside,” Elsa stands up, and then stands there for a second. She almost seems hesitant to leave.

Jack must be imagining things.

“Yeah, we — we probably should.” He stands there too for a second, neither of them moving before he asks which way she has to go— and he offers to walk her back. She declines and then eventually allows, after he insists it’s no trouble, and that their rooms are not very far apart.

“The beach is so beautiful at night,” Elsa says wistfully, as they pass the rocky steps where they first ran into each other around 26 hours ago.

Jack almost feels changed, since then, but quickly tells himself he’s being dramatic.

They reach her door.

“Sorry, I ran into you the other night, by the way,” Jack says, thinking maybe it’s worth mentioning again.

“Oh, don’t worry. I should have been paying attention to where I was going,” she says, standing by her door.

“Well. I could say the same,” he offers, with a smile.

“It’s okay. Really. I’m unharmed.” She holds her arms up for proof, and he laughs.

“It was nice talking to you,” he says earnestly, the last six words he promises himself, but his mouth always worked faster than his brain, and then, quickly, barely thinking, “Hopefully I’ll see you again tomorrow. I’m sure everyone else would love to meet you, too—“ he cuts himself off.

“That would be lovely.” Her blue eyes are honest.

“Goodnight,” he says, the last word.

“Goodnight.”

She closes her door, and he could have sworn she looked over her shoulder after him, her blonde hair almost curly- maybe from the beach or the waves, so so beautiful and long and… Here he is being crazy, but he has at least he’s had a conversation with her now, so…he’s got that under him, at least.

Jack walks back to his room, wondering how he’ll ever sleep now. He stands at the door, checks his pockets, and realizes he left the damn key in the room.

He walks around to the balcony, so grateful they’re on the first floor, and approaches the glass door to his and Merida’s room, and gently tries it, quietly, so as not to wake anybody, and it opens.

Quickly locating his room key (it was in his swimsuit pocket, very smart), he plugs his phone in across the room, and then very, very quietly makes up the couch bed. It still squeaks, anyway, when he lies down on it, and stares up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, he’ll ask her for her number.

His cheeks pink from the sun and his growing interest, possible crush? infatuation? no– friendship? with Elsa. Somehow, wrapped in heavy hotel blankets, he falls asleep.

Elsa, for her part, alone in her room, gathers her laptop, and finally begins to write.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Elsa, somehow, still manages to wake up around nine after going to bed at three in the morning. She wakes up to a text and a missed call from Anna, who she is hesitant to call back, after what happened last night, with Jack.

The sun has been awake for a few hours now, so she figures it’s time to start her day, maybe get some breakfast and then write a little more. She forced herself to go to sleep at three- hitting another writer’s block around 2:50, and staring at the screen for way too long before she did finally call it a night. She didn’t want to stay up any later than that for fear of staying in too long.

She couldn’t possibly waste this sunlight or spend another second inside, not with only three more days in paradise.

Elsa opens her curtains and looks out the window, seeing the sun almost halfway up, into the sky, and feeling its beams leave warm light through the glass. She wonders what Jack is doing, if he’s awake, if he’s looking at the sun too, if he’s thinking about her (at all, or) as much as she is thinking about him.

She cannot believe she let herself go back to that bar last night. She did, and she found him; this charismatic, beautiful, and oddly, hilariously charming stranger that for some reason hasn’t left her mind since she first saw him on the plane. Eventually, when she couldn’t take it anymore, grew bored of wandering around the beach and feeding magnificently colored fish and thinking of Anna back home and being lonely, she gave in to the very thing that led her here.

Impulse.

She’s only here for four days. Why not just give in and talk to him, talk to them? She held herself back, for a while,

she tried.

She came all this way alone. And she still is alone. She hasn’t done anything drastic. She’s opened a conversation with him. An invitation.

She figured that because it’s likely they’ll all never see each other again– and they

all

know that, that’s what happens when you make friends on vacation, like Elsa and Anna did when they were little kids– that it would be okay for her to go back and reach out and talk to him, and maybe the rest of them, and if he were to… invite her to spend time with or introduce her to any of the rest of his friends.

She would be happy.

As Elsa dresses for the day, this time putting her swimsuit on under her clothes straight away– the same one from yesterday that was left out to dry on the hook in the shower. She lathers herself with sunscreen all over, the smell of it vaguely soothing– a memory of her mother rubbing it over her shoulders and back, reminding her to stay safe. Elsa thinks that it’s a good thing she talked to him because this whole… stupid

idea

with minimal planning, just a concept, and then the reality of her going on this trip started as an impulse.

It’s insane how much can change in a day, and she feels… lighter, as she puts a white cover-up dress over her swimsuit, puts her hair in its usual braid, and finds her sunglasses by her bed. She knows what this feeling is; she’s excited at the possibility of seeing Jack. Her stomach has these wonderful butterflies that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

She tries to crush them. She tried to, yesterday, walking away and avoiding and drowning them with water and picking at her cuticles (even though Mother always told her not to do that, it was a habit that persisted with both she and Anna well into their adulthood), they stayed and she listened, and followed, and mildly, only slightly, relinquished her

control.

Which, she found, in school, sometimes led to the most beautiful pieces of poetry and prose. The best lyrics and storytelling were those that were unplanned, easily excitable, and frenetically written and best of all well-loved. Those were the stories she wanted to write, and perhaps… live.

So, set and dressed for breakfast, she heads out of her room and over to the cafe, enjoying the grit of sand that is still stuck between the grooves in her flip-flops, the way she can almost feel the warmth of the stones, heated by the sun, through the soles of her shoes. She is drawn towards the fruits again– bright orange mangos, strawberries, papaya, grated coconut, and fresh pineapple, and fills a plate with as much fruit as she can pile onto it, and a piece of bread to save for the fish. As much as she wants to stay within her comfort zone and stick with fruits, the omelet bar also calls her attention. So, she stands in line for a while, the buffet much busier at the slightly more acceptable vacation hour 9:15 (although there is no sign of Jack or any of his friends, as Elsa subtly searches for them and tries to recount their names and faces), and orders a vegetable omelet.

She glances around the buffet area, many tables and chairs to choose from, all painted white and adorned with light blue napkins with paisley designs on them, many taken by families of four or more, couples, and friends, and she is again hyper-aware of herself, alone. (But when is she not?)

She is not searching for Jack, does not hope he will invite her to sit down with them, does not deeply desire, in some primal part of her she had long since buried, to talk to him, connect, reach out.

It’s stupid. She’s stupid. They’ll never see each other ever again. Even if they do both live in New York– currently, she’s job searching. She needs to stop thinking so much.

She needs to stop judging her thoughts.

Realizing she’s spent a long time just standing there and looking lost (and alone), she finds the doors to the outside area of the restaurant and finds a small space overlooking the pool, with two chairs. The sun shines so brightly on her face, she puts her sunglasses on, and savors her fruit- the juiciness of the sweet mango, and the slight sourness to the pineapple- knowing she won’t taste anything like this back home. She eats slowly, enjoying her meal and her time- after all, she has so much of it.

Elsa tries not to think of Jack, and his friends, but does anyway.

She came here to distract herself– from her life, her work, and to inspire herself, and now she needs a new distraction from this mildly concerning, slowly overtaking infatuation with this stranger whose last name she doesn’t even know. That stops her train of thought right in its tracks that she’s being delusional. She doesn’t even know how old he is– though he has to be old enough to drink, and to be here, and to have meticulously planned this entire trip– however, just from  noticing him in the past few days, she’s not so sure meticulous is his style.

She’s not so sure she minds.

As Elsa finishes her breakfast and drinks a cold glass of water, she contemplates. Maybe it doesn’t matter– maybe none of this matters, the past two days, the next three. She should— she must– allow herself this freedom. She has worked so hard for

eleven

(so many) years, in everything. She can’t remember the last time she has given herself a break, in anything, let alone allowed adequate time for social life– something she told herself she didn’t need (or perhaps deemed herself unworthy of), or

fun

, and here she was in Hawaii, futilely agonizing over if she was going to

allow

herself to make friends.

It isn’t why she came here. But, maybe, if she allowed herself, this joy, this luxury– this necessity– humanity, connection. It could be a part of her vacation here. It would be okay for her to have company– to make

friends

.

She’d always been alone. She forced herself to believe that was what she wanted.

Maybe she was wrong.

She waits around there for a while longer, a little bit after she’s finished her breakfast, but not so long that it’s strange, and there is no sign of Jack, or Hiccup, she thinks, his best friend’s name is, or any of their other friends: the girl with the bright red curls, the taller brunette man, who stood tall alongside who she assumed was his girl, the blonde who reminded her of Anna in her sweetness and apparent affinity for dancing.

Leaving her plate and water glass, she stands to go back to the beach, placing the piece of bread in her purse for the fish to eat a little later. She walks to the beach, taking off her sandals to feel the hot pavement underneath her painted toes. It burns a little, but she finds herself being so grateful for the sun today. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, she knows. She wants to enjoy this.

The rocky path down to the beach is easy for her to navigate now, on the third day, and she relishes in the hot, smooth sand between her toes and the sun beating down on her hair. It’s even hotter than it was yesterday, and she immediately wants to get into the water.

However, the beach is crowded, more so than it was yesterday, or the day before, mostly with children and families. Elsa suddenly feels awkward, and doesn’t want to get in the way of the games of monkey in the middle or accidentally take up space where a child’s sandcastle could be built— just how she and Anna used to make them. She should really call her sister. She thinks of her phone, in her bag, up by a chair, far away from the waves, still next to the piece of bread she picked out for the fish. So, she takes herself from the shore and back to the showers to rinse the sand off her feet and legs, takes her bag, and walks back up to the pool area, watching the children play from the upper bar deck above the beach.

She texts Anna, quickly–

I miss you, <3. I’ll call you soon.

– and then shuts off her phone and orders a mimosa; it’s still so early.

She turns back to the pool area, and decides to sit down there, for a while, and read her book. Elsa takes her cover-up off, because it’s too hot to have anything else on aside from her swimsuit, and even contemplates getting in the pool quickly, but resolves to focus on her book, conflicted. It makes her think about work still, and her research, and the creative writing she has yet to do that just won’t come to her quite the way she wants.

She reads, and waits, and does

not

look for Jack, or any of his friends, and is patient, and calm, and alone. Still.

Getting lost in the narrative and the story has always been a talent of hers, since she was a little girl, stuck up in her room without much else to do after her lessons, except read, and play by herself, so she took to reading and writing and creation, revelling in the control she could have as the creator of characters, tying together stories and plotlines and people. Reading them was another ball game entirely– she relinquished her control and left it in the author’s hands as the plots twisted and turned, weaving characters in and out of relationships, trouble, situations– all of which were mostly foreign to her- new, exciting.

She is deeply enthralled with her novel– more so than she expected to be, when a large splash of cool water hits her ankles, crossed at the end of the chair, and a red and white volleyball rolls past her chair and into the small, colorful plants behind her head. Elsa looks up from her book, marks her place quickly and gets up to retrieve the volleyball and toss it back into the water. It’s just slightly behind the bush– though the plant appears to have a few thorns.

“Nah, Eugene, I got it, one sec–”

Elsa hears his voice.

Jack.

She turns to greet him, but he speaks before she can.

“Elsa!” Jack exclaims, his blue eyes are wide and he almost looks surprised, and he’s smiling widely at her. His hair is sopping wet, dripping down the back of his neck, and… he’s shirtless.

Elsa feels herself blushing, just slightly, and wills it to go away, blames it on the sun. She’s an adult woman. She’s seen shirtless men before. There are plenty of them on the beach and at the pool. Little droplets of water fall from his hair down his shoulders and chest as he shakes it out slightly, an unconscious gesture that only deepens her blush.

“Sorry about that,” he says, going towards her and looking around the bush for the ball.

“Oh, it’s okay.” She watches him crouch next to the bush, but it’s just far enough into the bush and the thorns that he is going to have to go around to get it. She crouches next to him, extremely mindful of how close her elbow is to touching his, and the spread of her knees that has to happen in order for her to be so low to the ground, and how little clothing they are both wearing, which is normal. They are at a beach and they are practically strangers and Elsa needs to get a grip.

“Here, let me try,” she offers, just as he’s about to give up reaching it from underneath.

He moves back and stands, behind her, and she reaches behind the bushes very carefully. Her hands are smaller than his, her wrists more slender, and she is able to evade the thorns and free the volleyball. She turns to hand it back to him.

Their hands brush. Elsa could be imagining things, but she swears she sees him blush.

“Jack! What’s taking so long?” one of the girls, light blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail, yells for him.

“One sec–” he throws the volleyball back in at her, and she catches it with ease, swimming back to the game.

He stands there for a second longer, and he’s thinking on something, she can tell, and Elsa feels awkward all of a sudden, and at a loss of what to say.

“Do you want to join us?” Jack abruptly blurts. Before Elsa can respond, he continues. “If you’re not too busy with your book, I mean. If you want.”

She smiles, despite herself. Hating to admit it to herself in any capacity, she does

want

to, very much so. And, privately, somewhere deep within her psyche, she knows she wants to because of him.

Though she hasn’t played water volleyball in years, she responds–

“Sure.”

He grins, and returns to the water with a certain confidence, a set to his shoulders that she finds inexplicably attractive, in the part of her that she tries so hard to suppress. Elsa follows him into the water, pushing down her anxieties and small reminders that these people are all strangers to her and they might not want some random person crashing their game, and that after not playing for years and years she likely is not going to be very good, and could very well embarrass herself. She focuses her breath, and incidentally ends up watching the muscles in Jack’s back as he leads her to where they are, in a smaller corner of the pool with a volleyball net, very engaged in a game.

“Come on, come on–” a woman with curly red hair chants as the ball soars over the net.

“I got it–” one of the boys calls, shaking his brown hair out of his eyes to see the ball. He spikes it over the net, almost over the blonde girl's head on the other side, and she dives to get it, and misses.

“Sorry!” she says, coming out of the water with sopping blonde hair, so long it disappears under the water.

“ ‘S all right,” the redhead replies, grabbing the ball from behind her. “Good volley!”

“Jack!”  another one of the boys sees him, and Elsa pinpoints the exact moment he sees her as well. Surprised a little, but accepting. Kind. Almost as if he already knows her, or was expecting her, somehow.

Jack holds out his hands for the ball, to serve, and the redhead tosses it to him, rolling her eyes. Elsa feels awkward again, out of place— they all clearly know each other so well. What is she doing in Hawaii again? She doesn’t like to swim. She barely even knows how, yet–

“This is Elsa,” he introduces her, smiling at her.

“Hi,” she says, and waves at all of them.

“Elsa, this is Merida,” he points to the girl with firey red hair, who smiles back at her. “Rapunzel,” the girl with long, golden blonde hair. “Astrid and Hiccup,” the two are standing together, and they both smile respectively, and say hi to her- “and Eugene.”

“Okay, ready?” Merida looks pointedly at the ball. “We’ve been waiting.”

Elsa quickly ties her hair up, pulling it into a high, messy bun, hoping it won’t fall during the game.

“Okay, okay–” Jack laughs, and serves comfortably, the ball going easily over the top of the net.

Eugene hits it back, then Merida– and Astrid, Rapunzel manages to get a shot in before it’s hit back to Eugene, then Jack, then Hiccup, they get a nice volley going, and Elsa is still hesitant, watching the ball, calculating what her best possible moves could be, where to stand, if they will rotate positions or if this is all more casual- and as the ball comes hurling towards her, she readies herself trying to remember how she and Anna used to play— how her father taught her— and bumps the ball, with relative ease.

“Nice!” Jack tells her, nodding his head, looking toward the ball as Astrid spikes it right back at him.

The volley continues, halting when this time, Hiccup misses one.

“Aw, come on–” Eugene is mock exasperated.

“Hey! I dove for it–” Hiccup protests.

“Next time babe, I got that one,” Astrid pats him on the back and he glares at her, shaking his head a little to get rid of the water in his ears.

“Okay, again,” Merida says, growing impatient. She cracks her knuckles.

Eugene serves the ball, and Rapunzel calls out her turn, setting it.

“Nice,” Eugene says, as it flies back to him.

“Good,” Merida encourages. “Let’s go!”

Elsa steadies herself, a little, watching them, participating when it makes sense to, mostly hanging back and letting Jack handle most of the balls that come their way– he is ridiculously good at this game. She finds herself watching him more than she should, the muscles in his back and arms working as he sets and spikes the ball again and again– feeling strange and freed and allowing herself to…  look at him, to engage with all of them. She would feel almost at peace, if it weren’t for the fluttering in her stomach every time he moved to glance back at her, and the anxiety every time the ball came her way. She is standing slightly to the back and diagonally across from him, letting Jack handle most of the front and Rapunzel and Merida most of the back. It hits her again how comfortable they are with each other, how long Jack described they’ve all known each other, how much they must all love each other. She can see it, just in the way they play this game– the gentle teasing and ribbing, and excitement and encouragement, and smiles and laughter.

They play a game until twenty-one, and then switch sides, tie it, and then switch again.

“All right, Elsa,” Jack turns to her. The way he says her name delights her, for some unknown reason.

She pushes it down.

“We got this,” he continues.

“Hell yeah we do,” Merida says. “You ready, Punz?”

“No— you guys don’t know what’s coming.” Hiccup is getting ready to serve, looking back at Eugene and Astrid for the okay to go.

“Here. To my left. You got this,” Jack says, and seems to catch himself in what he is saying the same time as Elsa does.

She smiles. “Okay.”

The third game is the longest and toughest, and they do end up rotating normally this time– and Elsa has her fair share of serving and setting and even, once, diving for a ball, getting her hair fully wet and having to re-do her hair into a ponytail. She allows herself to slowly acclimate, to feel… almost comfortable with them. Not enough to engage in jest, or talk more than she needs to, but enough that she involves herself thoroughly in the game, and laughs at their jokes, allowing herself to

have fun,

to

let go.

She tears her eyes away from Jack again and again, but can’t resist looking at him when he laughs– the first expression she noticed him make, just two days ago. Has it really only been just two days? She feels insane. His laugh is so genuine and joyful that it takes all of him to just to make the expression and the sound, he throws his head back, so his hair is out of his eyes- and they squint up and his teeth show and they are so, so white and one of them is ever so slightly crooked, the rest perfect. His cheeks are pink from the sun, and she thinks maybe there would be some freckles on them if she were to look closer. She won’t. She can’t– she couldn’t, and she never will. She focuses in on the game, locking all of her attention in on the ball and its travels through the sky and others’ hands– Rapunzel, then Astrid, Merida, Eugene, and Jack, then Hiccup– it’s back to her, and she’s focused on the game, not Jack, not the closeness of the friends that are not yet hers but maybe, this week she could get to know them, not the way the water is pruning her fingers and she doesn’t quite mind, and definitely not how beautiful Jack looks in this light, and how much she’d like to look even closer.

Somehow, likely mostly due to Jack and Merida’s intervention, their side wins.

Jack cheers. “Yeah!” He and Merida clap hands, he turns to Rapunzel and does the same, and then turns to her, and hesitates for a second. Elsa is nervous, but he holds up his hands for her to celebrate as well, and she does, and why did that hand clasp– that subtle contact– all of a sudden make her stomach come alive?

“Okay, I’m done for a while,” Eugene says, tossing the volleyball to Merida. “Anyone want drinks?”

Elsa finds herself following Jack and his friends to the bar, after he looks at her— and the look in his eyes is difficult for her to decipher - an invitation, extended to her. Hope and honesty and fun. She goes with them to the bar for some drinks and lunch, all of them ravenous after three very engaging games of water volleyball.

Her book lies with her little beach bag at the chair, forgotten.

Picking at what is left of her french fries, she watches Jack laughing again at something Hiccup’s said– and then Jack turns back to her, and asks what she wants to drink. Feeling indecisive, she thinks on it for a moment, Jack says he’ll have whatever she chooses, and she feels oddly… honored. It’s so simple, to choose his and her drink, yet it makes her feel included, involved, encouraged by him and them to stay with them and spend this time together, with him and his friends, on this beach on this island in this year.

She chooses a Mai Tai, and watches the bartender pour a smooth helping of liquor into each drink, and Rapunzel, Eugene, Astrid, Hiccup, and Merida choose their drinks respectively – a daiquiri, a few Mudslides, and a long Island. Elsa sips her drink, feeling contented and a little tired, washed out by the sun and heat and a slight, pleasant ache in her muscles from having used them again and again in volleyball– reminders that she is here, she is real, she is alive.

“This is good, Elsa,” Jack sips his drink and brings her attention back to him, away from her drink and the sun.

“Yes,” she begins carefully, unsure what to say, a little surprised he hasn’t had one before, wondering what his usual drink of choice is. “One of my favorites.”

They finish their drinks and lunch leisurely, and the sun passes its highest point in the sky and begins to fall, just slightly.

Elsa watches as Hiccup stands and stretches a little, looking up. The drinks are finished, and all except for Jack’s are stacked and ready to be collected. Their lunch plates are empty with a few crumbs left, covered with napkins so as not to attract seagulls.

“You guys wanna go back to the room for a little? We could go in the hot tub for a while before dinner?” Hiccup asks.

Astrid and Merida agree to that, and stand up. Elsa should go.

“I think we might go look at some souvenirs,” Eugene says, looking at Rapunzel, who nods.

“We’ll be back before dinner,” Rapunzel assures them. “Reservations at 7:30, right?” she asks Astrid, who nods.  This is her cue to leave, Elsa knows.

“Jack?” Hiccup asks, raising his eyebrows.

Jack looks at Elsa.

“I’ll catch up,” he says casually, still nursing his drink.

Hiccup raises his eyebrows at Jack for a miniscule moment, and Rapunzel smiles over her shoulder when she leaves– they are gone too quickly for Elsa to interpret their looks, but she thinks it may be something about her and Jack being– now intentionally– alone again.

Jack finishes his drink then, in one sip, and Elsa looks at the ice at the bottom of hers and resists the urge to eat it– it’s not very ladylike or attractive, not that she’s worried about any of those things right now, she just wants to… be polite, is all.

The warm alcohol settles pleasantly at the bottom of her stomach, and she takes solace in the combined warmth of her drink and the sun and the feelings in her gut that have nothing to do with physical happenings in the world around her, and everything to do with her mentality and inner feelings

She pushes them down as Jack looks at her, fiddling with the straw in his drink and putting it to the side, his blue eyes as striking as they were two days before and every moment after that.

“Got any plans for the rest of the day?” he asks, his tone noncommittal.

“No,” Elsa tells him, honestly. She pauses, thinking for a second. “I might go back to the beach for a while.”

He nods. Elsa thinks he is going to say something, and then he doesn’t, for a second. She can almost see his brain working, that’s how candid his facial expressions are, his eyebrows slightly drawn together as he ponders… something, she doesn’t know what. She should probably leave, and yet. She can’t quite bring herself to go.

“The beach then?” Jack asks.

She nods, thinking of the colorful fish there, and how they’ve yet to be fed by her today.

He looks at her empty drink, looks as if he’s about to say something, and doesn’t.

She should leave. She should get the hell out of here and go be alone like she wanted to before she met him, the way she is supposed to act and be in the world. The reason she came here— to take solace in her own relaxation and solitude. She wants to do anything but leave. She is inexplicably drawn to him. She wants to stay.

And then, against all her better judgment and any and all reason–

“Would you care to come with me? I found these beautiful schools of fish out there yesterday. If we bring the rest of these french fries to them, they’ll eat right out of our hands.”

Jack looks at her, his eyes wide.

“Of course.”

They go to the beach.

“Do you prefer the beach or the pool?” Jack asks her, sticking his toes in the sand, curling them slightly around the tiny grains of rock.

“The beach,” Elsa answers, gazing out towards the water, as the waves lap against the shore. She searches calmly for the fish, from earlier, holding the few french fries they had left in her hands. “What about you?” she asks him, turning back. Her hair falls into her eyes, the wind blowing at it gently. She forgot her hair-tie in her bag, back by the pool.

Jack’s hair is in his eyes as well. She has the strange urge to go over to him and brush it away, wanting to see his eyes. She pushes it down.

“I think I prefer the beach, too,” he says. “But I also like the pool. Volleyball was pretty fun.”

“It was,” Elsa agrees, and smiles at him. She looks back out into the water.

“What are you looking for?” he asks candidly, and the question sticks her feet in the sand and keeps them there, for a moment, while she considers it

What are you looking for?

He means what is she looking for with her eyes, in the water, but something about the question and the way he says it– so honest and genuinely curious– strikes a chord in her, and she actually considers it for a second, probably too long.

What am I looking for?

“The fish I saw yesterday,” she answers, abruptly.

“Oh,” he says, for something to say, she imagines. “What did they look like?”

“Colorful,” she responds. She spots one a little further out, one of the purple-blue fish, a little more difficult to see since the sun is lower in the sky now, but present nonetheless. “There’s one.” She points. “See?”

Jack stands a little behind her, looking where she’s pointing, and following her gaze as best he can from a slight side angle. He nods, but she can tell he doesn’t really see.

They should part ways now, probably. Probably, they should have parted ways a long time ago.

“Here, we’re going to have to get in,” Elsa says, instead of

goodbye, see you later, see you tomorrow,

or anything of the sort. She pulls her dress up a little so it falls above her knees, and Jack… takes off his shirt.

She blushes for the second time that day, though she thinks the light hides it better now than before. She needs to focus.

Feed the fish.

That’s why she came to the beach. She’ll feed the fish, and then go back to her room and call Anna and then go to sleep very, very early to make up for all the lost time throughout the past couple of days, and wake up early, and go for a run, to clear her head–

“I see them,” Jack says, intent and focused, and holds out his hand to her, for a french fry.

Startled at first, with a wanting to hold his hand for another reason, Elsa stills herself and wordlessly hands him a fry, which he keeps still in the water, for the fish to come find.

The colorful, uniquely beautiful violet-navy fish swim in circles around them, and one comes to eat from Jack’s hand, just as Elsa said. She can’t help but smile, watching the fish– and watching his face, he seems to be amazed by the closeness of the little creatures, their lack of fear and willingness to trust them, as they hold nourishment and kindness out to them in their hands.

Elsa takes another french fry and puts it in the water, watching the fish swim valiantly, congregating around her for just the chance at a morsel of food.

“We should break it into pieces for them,” Jack says, watching this. He looks up at her, his bangs falling into his eyes a little. He brushes them back, but they fall again, and Elsa wishes with everything she has that she didn’t find that so attractive.

“That’s a good idea.” They separate the rest of the now stale french fries, but the fish enjoy them thoroughly, and stick around, their tails and fins slightly tickling Elsa’s fingertips as they swim, long after the food is gone.

They’ve been standing here a while, and the sun has not yet set, but is dipping lower and lower into the sky while Elsa searches for something to say, or do, and tries to ignore the tired, pleasant, worn-out-from-the-sun feeling in her body weighing her eyelids, and the happiness she feels vehemently throughout her whole body. She needs to leave

now

, like she should have a long time ago. The silence should be awkward. She can’t pull herself out of the water, and away. From him.

“I should go,” she forces herself to say, digging her toes out of the wet sand.

Jack looks surprised, and she wishes she had said nothing, or something else, or let him speak first– though he seems to have trouble doing so right now. She sees him working his jaw, but saying nothing– and that might be a bad habit of his, biting his cheek, but she has only seen it twice and she keeps reminding herself that she does not

know

him, and that she needs to genuinely remove herself from the water now, and this situation– back to the calm, quiet safety of her hotel room and her computer and book, the things that are familiar to her while she is still away from home.

“What are you doing for dinner?” he asks her, calmly, while they exit the water. He finds his shirt upon the shore while she attempts to find the

right

words, her heart racing in her chest for a reason she would rather not consider any more than is absolutely necessary– without realizing that none of this is necessary. Her being this side of the country in and of itself is just

gratuitous

so why should she not go all the way in?

“I’m not very hungry,” she answers honestly, because they really just ate, and she does want, and need to be alone, at least for a little while, after this exhibition.

“Oh,” he says, and she doesn’t miss the slight slump to his shoulders, or disregard the nerve it must have taken for him to ask her that at all. “We’re doing the French place tonight, I think,” he continues, not letting the small silence linger for long.

“I haven't tried it yet,” Elsa says. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear gently, the wind having blown it all out of place.

“I read on one of the planned agendas there’s karaoke after, if you don’t already have something planned.” Jack continues onward, as they walk up the rocky path, he pauses briefly at the top as she stops before him, and they are about to part ways.

If you don’t already have something planned.

Karaoke. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, or even that she doesn’t sing, or can’t sing— no one’s even telling her that she has to sing, she can go and watch, knowing they probably have plenty of inside jokes and songs planned and she would definitely just be intruding and while this day and time together with him and his friends was lovely, it is time to nip this in the bud. She shouldn’t go and even more than that she should

not

sing, because that’s not something she does. Sure, she loves to sing in private, but nobody will ever know that and she’s… taught herself over the years that it’s better that way, for everyone.

Everybody believes her to be shy and quiet– and she is in a way, moreso just reserved and private. She wants to be outgoing, and has willed herself into it today. Everything about her is carefully composed and curated and she came here to get away from it all, didn’t she? Something about the fact that she will likely never see any of them ever again both terrifies and comforts her– for the fact that she can do and say much more than she usually would for fear of (of being known, being understood, being

related

to, by anyone other than Anna) and because she is growing to like their (his) company much more than she would like to admit, even just in the last few hours. She came all this way to Hawaii. She wants to believe she deserves this freedom– she deserves to go spend time with the people she’s just met and grown to like– maybe she even deserves to sing.

“Yes. That sounds like fun.”

Jack cannot believe his luck.

She said yes. And sure, maybe he’s making this all much more serious than it needs to be, this girl he just met at the beach who’s agreed to spend time with him once and then again, this time more on purpose and planned, and he can’t hide his smile as he says goodbye to her and watches her walk back up to her room past the beach, or his excitement at dinner with his friends, his leg shaking under the table and his eating more sporadic, fast at first with the appetizers and then barely touching his entree, before he decides that he definitely needs to eat, especially if he’s going to drink, especially if he is going to sing with her there watching.

So dinner passes quickly, not that he wills it away, but it’s almost as if time is going more swiftly now that he looks forward to seeing her– though the food is just as delicious as it was yesterday, the conversation as comfortable and teasing and happy– and yet his mind wanders back to her, and he is still so astounded that she is here alone.

And so so grateful.

“Whatcha gonna sing?” Merida asks him, taking a bite of crem brulee.

Jack doesn’t touch his. “Hm… I don’t know yet.”

“Really?” Hiccup is disbelieving.

“Yes!” Jack insists. He digs his fork into the dessert, resisting the urge to crack open the rest of the sugar coating and stir it around. “Maybe I’ll just watch you guys.”

At that, the whole table is skeptical.

“I may have invited Elsa to karaoke,” he admits, looking again at the crem brulee.

“What?” Hiccup asks.

Jack just nods, stirring around the dessert and eventually pushing it away completely.

Eugene lets out a breath, and Rapunzel looks at him sympathetically, while Astrid is the one to speak.

“Jack, you’ve got it bad for her, don’t you?” she says, with that look that he sees on all their faces, the one telling him he’s only setting himself up for heartache and misery when they leave. He doesn’t care right now; none of that matters. All that matters is tonight, and she said yes to meeting him on purpose, and they spent the whole day together, and that’s gotta mean something, right?

He steels himself and looks around at his closest friends, and then shrugs.

“She’s here alone, guys. Is it so bad I wanted to invite her to hang out with us?”

Hiccup nods, but his eyebrows are still drawn together in that way that tells Jack he doesn’t believe him, at least not fully. Sure, it’s not the complete reason Jack invited her, but it is part of it, and Hiccup gives him that at least.

Eventually, they all agree, and leave Jack alone for the time being, resuming their conversation reminiscing on old high school teachers and professors, inside jokes from their AP Literature final project, and half-realized plans for after they graduate. They order a few waters to bring back to the main bar, and Jack can’t stop thinking about Elsa, and what he could sing that won’t embarrass him too badly– or if he should just lean into that factor of karaoke- after all, you’re not supposed to be good at it. Usually if you are, other people might even get annoyed. Jack has a feeling Elsa will be. He wouldn’t mind. He could listen to her speak all day. Somehow he just knows she can sing. What she will, or if she will, is another question, and he really shouldn’t care that much to see her again, but…

Elsa shows up to karaoke after a few people have already sang, and Jack spots her immediately. Merida and Rapunzel are up and talking to the DJ, and had been giggling over a rendition of

Love Story

they had sung at Jack’s graduation party back in 2021, so Jack guesses that’s what they’ll sing. Hiccup and Eugene, preferring to sit back and watch, stick at his side, and Astrid is talking with Hiccup, debating if she should sing anything or not. This is really more his, Merida, and Punzie’s ball park, but Jack is still feeling these strange butterflies in his stomach, and they only intensify as he stands and goes over to Elsa, waving and calling her over.

“Hey,” he says, a little short of breath and his heart is already racing just being near her.

Be cool.

“How’s it going?”

She smiles– he hopes she isn’t laughing at him, maybe she thinks he’s cute? and answers him, “Good. How are you?”

“I’m good– we’re all just over here–” he leads her a little through the crowd of people and back to where the rest of his friends are sitting, and they all greet her in turn with smiles and waves, quickly adding her to their conversation and (hopefully) making her feel welcome, included.

“Are you going to sing anything?” Elsa turns to him, and the music from the current person singing is so loud she has to get pretty close to him. He almost misses what she said, and what a shame, because he probably would have had to ask her to repeat it, and she probably would have leaned even closer, maybe he’d have felt her breath ghosting his ear–

“Oh… maybe.” He shrugs. “Maybe not, unless they drag me.” They usually do

Love Shack

by the B-52s, each take a part, but that used to be his go-to.

“Really? I’d have expected you jump up there.” Elsa seems to speak without thinking, and Jack could jump for joy at that, as her cheeks pinken slightly and she turns to him. “Since you’re so outgoing.”

Now it’s his turn to blush.

“How long ‘til you guys sing?” he asks Rapunzel and Merida, changing the subject.

“Two more,” Merida shouts over the music, and then turns to Eugene, nodding her head. “How many drinks’ll it take for you to get up there, Flynn?”

He seems to consider it for a second. “ ‘til I lose count,” he decides. “Or if Jack gets up there.”

Jack stares at him.

“Jack, please–” Rapunzel immediately starts.

“We can do Love Shack—”

“Dude, your grad party was so fun, you have to admit–” Astrid starts.

“Okay, okay!” he gives in, laughing, ignoring the churning in his gut regarding Elsa right next to him as the girls go up and put their names in again, this time with the confidence of him the lead on that, their most beloved ‘80s song. “But you’re getting up there, too, Flynn—”

Flynn shakes his head, but Rapunzel puts his name in anyway, and will no doubt drag him up there with them when the time comes to sing– or in their case, rhythmically scream the lyrics.

“Do you sing?” he asks Elsa, quietly, while the last song starts up before Merida and Rapunzel, who excitedly announce that it’s one more and then them.

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes.”

He doesn’t want to push her, but he thinks he does anyway. He just wants to encourage her, let her know it’s okay to step out of her comfort zone– it seems like maybe she wants to. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come here at all.

“Well, if you do, we’ll all be over here cheering you on,” he tells her. “It’ll be really fun.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“It’s us! It’s us!” Rapunzel stands and drags Merida up by the wrist, who has had a little bit more drink right now– and the beginning guitar notes to

Love Story

cue up in the music.

“Oh yeah, Rapunzel

loves

Taylor Swift,” Jack says to Elsa. “They sing this every time they get the chance.”

Elsa watches them, and seems very engaged. “That’s very sweet,” she says.

Jack, for the first time in a while, thinks

yes, it is.

They sing, and then after another few songs it’s his turn to sing, and he gets nervous all over again, which is stupid considering he did theatre all four years in high school and (allegedly, according to friends and family) loves being the center of attention, but he feels different now, knowing Elsa’s watching, and as the familiar melody begins and Merida and Rapunzel drag both him and Eugene up there by the wrists, he looks back,grins at Elsa,wishes he’d had another drink or two, and gives it his all.

Merida and Rapunzel take the first verse and then he sings, first forcing Eugene to take the lead, laughing together as the memories of all the other times they’ve sang mildly drunken karaoke flood back– the first time freshman year– and then every time at karaoke after that. Jack is a little embarrassed at first, but the comfort of his friends up there on stage with him erase that, and he into it a little more, having fun with it and letting his dispositions fall away, falling a little in love with the goofy, silly appeal of the song– and they reach the bridge, his still favorite part–

Huggin' and a-kissin', dancin' and a-lovin'

Wearin' next to nothing 'cause it's hot as an oven

The whole shack shimmies

Yeah the whole shack shimmies

He’s avoided looking at Elsa this whole time, focusing on Merida and Rapunzel as they ground him to the moment in their willingness to let go and have fun, and encouragement of him to do the same now, likely noting his nervousness around Elsa– and he risks a glance at her now, to see her grinning like he hasn’t seen yet, even laughing a little too as they reach the last few pieces of the song.

His heart racing, they exit the stage, and he takes his place again next to her as someone begins

Rhiannon

by Fleetwood Mac.

“That was incredible,” Elsa nearly gushes, and Jack can’t help but smile because she seems so happy– and maybe he has accomplished his goal in getting her out of his shell and making her smile, all just through being himself. What a cliche.

“Thanks,” Jack says.

“I can tell that’s an old favorite,” she continues, and takes a sip of her drink.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees. “We’ve sang that more times than I can count… more times than I care to admit.” He smiles.

What about you?

He wants to ask.

What will you sing?

He says nothing, they watch and drink and Elsa seems almost inspired as the current singer finishes, and excuses herself to walk up there and Jack’s heart reacts again as he realizes she’s going to sing.

“Oh Lord,” Astrid starts.

“Jack’s gonna die,” Merida pokes him in the shoulder and he shoves her hand away.

“Stop–” he shoots back, though he thinks it might be true.

“What’d you put in?” he asks Elsa as she sits down again.

“You’ll see,” she just looks at him, and

Is she teasing him now?

Is that what this is? He doesn’t push it.

The next few singers finish; Jack can tell Hiccup and Astrid are starting to get antsy, listening to other people sing, badly, and it’s just one more song until Elsa walks up there, and Jack does indeed almost die, as they predicted, and she sings

Landslide.

Her voice is beautiful, unique and special with a haunting, heartbreaking quality that makes him- embarrassingly enough, want to cry. He feels the tears spring behind his eyes– and he remembers this album and his year of being seventeen years old clear as day, but the way she sings the words, the way her lips and mouth shape around the vowels– it just breaks his heart over and over as it beats blood into his veins and slams against his ribcage, and God, Astrid was right he is

gone.

Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm gettin' older, too

Her voice, like a siren song, pulls on his heartstrings and he leans over in his seat, desperate to be closer to the sound and her, her eyes closed while she sings softly on, and Hiccup nudges him as she closes in on the last few lyrics, with a quiet,

damn.

Jack nods, running his tongue over the back of his permanent retainer, the thrumming energy in his body from her voice feeling impossible to contain by sudden desire to be close to her.

Everyone erupts with applause– because she’s the most beautiful singer they’ve heard yet that night, and she was second to close. God bless whoever follows her because they most certainly can

not

, and Jack is smiling because he can’t stop, pushing down the emotions of the song and all that he feels for this mysterious girl he just met. They order a third round of drinks to finish out the night.

“That was beautiful,” he tells her, very candidly, and her cheeks are slightly flushed with adrenaline and the hour– and he hopes she isn’t embarrassed or sheepish and she doesn’t regret it, because he would play this moment in his head again and again for the rest of his life if it meant he’d get to spend any time with her.

Maybe he is in love.  His heart dips and falls with the realization, but doesn’t deny.

Jackson Overland. So typical– to fall in love fruitlessly on vacation with beautiful mystery women who really shouldn’t give him the time of day, and do, for some reason, speak and time with him and give him hope– and show him fish and sing karaoke and stay out much later than they both probably should, just for the sake of more drinks and laughter and good life.

They stay for a long, long while, even after everybody else goes to bed (Rapunzel, then Hiccup and Astrid, then Eugene, then Merida), drinks and laughter and slightly stale Kettle Chips, and another round, warm cheeks and full bellies and getting to know her so well he thinks

, yes, maybe I have fallen in love in 48 hours and maybe that’s okay

– and somehow he is able to accept this about himself and let her into his heart so easily, and as the bar closes and the alcohol settles warm and deep in the pit of his stomach– and he knows he’s going to sleep

well

tonight, they stand and realize they have to go because the bar is done and there’s nowhere else

to

go–

“Do you wanna go back to the beach?” Elsa ask. Her speech is not slurred, yet it is clear she’s relaxed, just not as bad as he is. He isn’t drunk– just a little inebriated and more than a little exhausted from volleyball and singing and his racing, roller-coaster of emotions that just come with being who he is.

“Yes,” he says without hesitation.

They stand from their seats at the bar, and he braces himself a little on the granite counter, and keeps his emotions gravely in check. He follows her as she leads the way down the now-familiar rocky little path to the beach, and listens as the waves gently kiss the shore, over and over, as its their job to do so, the same way as the world turns around they run with that easy, simple rhythm, and Jack hears them.

“I’m glad you decided to sing,” Jack admits to her, feels like he’s baring his soul for her to see, wants to give it to her, for her to hold, wants to know if she feels as intense for him as he does for her.

“I’m glad I did, too,” she says back, standing a little ways closer to the waves. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, but she draws her hand to it, messing with the elastic holding it together, and lets it free, the wind whipping it and floating strands around her face.

Jack steps forward to stand beside her, and keeps his hands firmly at his sides, resisting the strong urge to brush her hair away from her face.

“Will I see you again tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes betraying his emotion and honesty, no matter how hard he tries to hide it he can’t– he very badly wants to see her tomorrow.

She regards him for a moment, her blue eyes deep with unspoken feeling, yet oddly cold, and not telling of what she might truly be thinking or feeling, or not-saying. Jack has found it difficult to get a read on her these past few days, as much as he would like to have a solid one— he never can tell.

“Yes. If you’d still– if you’d like,” she corrects herself, she has let bits and pieces of herself slip around him throughout the past couple of hours and he could not be more happy or grateful– or more confident that he’s falling so stupidly and naively in love.

“Of course,” Jack answers, immediately.

“We should probably, go to bed,” she says, after a beat.

“I can walk you back,” Jack offers. “If that’s all right.” and this time, leads her up the rocky path and back to her room.

They stand there for a moment, neither at first moving or speaking, before Jack gives up and gives in, working up his nerve for a minute and then eventually just up and saying what must be on both of their minds for the love of all things good in the world–

“D’ya wanna exchange numbers, for tomorrow? I can text you in the morning, for breakfast, if you want–” he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket, and Elsa hands him hers, to put his number into.

He does, and then hands her his for the same, still stunned at his luck and her beauty and thoughtful kindness— with his heart that she now holds in her hands.

“Goodnight, Jack,” she says, with a small smile, and he wonders if her heart beats like his does right now.

“Goodnight.”

She closes the door.

He mosies on back to their room and uses his key (which he remembered this time!) to enter as quietly as possible. He pushes down a groan when he realizes he forgot to pull out the couch earlier, and does so as quietly as he possibly can, mindful of Merida asleep a few feet away. Although his movements are considerably less coordinated while he’s tipsy and giddy, Elsa’s phone number safe in his phone in his pocket.

Finally, he’s had enough wrestling with the sofa-bed and lies down, his stomach still light and airy with fluttering butterflies and his mind wired and excited. He forces himself to go to bed so he’s ready for breakfast tomorrow and all the other adventures the day might bring. He falls asleep staring at her name in his phone, thinking of all that he wants to do but doesn’t yet risk, and his phone slips from his hand and he dreams of her, long into the night.