The Long Romantic Getaway

It had been so long since we'd actually seen each other—really seen each other, not just grabbed fifteen minutes between obligations or exchanged quick texts about our schedules. Parker's movie had wrapped, my album was finally done, and for the first time in months, we both had a few days with nothing urgent demanding our attention.

Which is why I'd planned this vacation.

"You're being very secretive," Parker said as we waited at the gate, his coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. "Still not going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope." I smiled, pleased with myself. "You planned our fake date back then. This is me returning the favor. Except it's a few days instead of one afternoon."

"I'm not sure that's equivalent."

"It's definitely equivalent. Maybe even generous on my part."

He laughed and shook his head, but I could see he was curious. Good. After months of packed schedules and promotional appearances and barely having time to breathe, we both needed this. Needed to just exist somewhere without cameras or expectations or the constant performance of being a couple.

Even though we still were a couple. Technically. For public consumption, at least.

I pushed that thought away and focused on my phone, triple-checking our reservation details even though I'd already confirmed them twice this morning.

"You're doing the thing again," Parker observed.

"What thing?"

"The obsessive planning thing. Cee, it's a vacation. You're allowed to relax."

"I'll relax once we get there and I confirm everything is perfect."

"Of course you will."

The flight was nothing special—we were both exhausted enough that we slept through most of it, only waking when the flight attendant came by with snacks. Parker's head ended up on my shoulder at some point, and I didn't move it. It felt nice, the weight of him there, the quiet intimacy of sleeping near someone you trusted completely.

When we landed, I could see Parker trying to figure out where we were from the airport signs.

"Mayton?" he read. "I've never heard of this place."

"That's the point. It's a resort town, kind of under the radar. Not too touristy, but nice." I pulled up the car rental confirmation on my phone. "I wanted somewhere we could actually rest without worrying about being recognized every five seconds."

His expression softened. "You really thought this through."

"Obviously."

The Mayton Resort was everything the website had promised and more. Sprawling grounds, a beautiful pool area, a spa that looked like something from a luxury magazine. Our suite was huge—king bed, separate seating area, a balcony that overlooked the beach.

Parker set his suitcase down and looked around, taking it all in. "You really went all out."

"Is it too much? I tried to find something nice but not ridiculously expensive—"

"Cee." He turned to face me. "It's perfect. Seriously. Thank you for planning this."

Something warm bloomed in my chest. "You're welcome. And before you ask, no, I don't have a detailed itinerary. I figured we could just... see what we feel like doing. The resort has everything—spa, gym, pool, beach access. There's even a mini theater."

He raised an eyebrow. "You? No itinerary? Who are you and what have you done with Celeste Okawa?"

"Shut up." I tossed a pillow at him. "I'm capable of spontaneity."

"I'll believe it when I see it." He caught the pillow and flopped onto the bed. "Although if I'm being honest, I'm probably just going to stay in this bed the entire weekend."

"Parker, no! You barely get vacations. You have to at least try to enjoy it."

He groaned dramatically. "I should've known you'd be efficient at relaxing too."

"At least pick one activity. Just one. Please?" I sat on the edge of the bed. "I just want you out of the room at some point."

He grabbed the resort pamphlet from the nightstand and flipped through it. "The beach does look nice. It's been ages since I've been to a proper beach."

"Perfect. Beach it is."

We spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and settling in, the easy companionship we'd always had settling back into place. No talk of work, no discussion of public appearances or our relationship status. Just us, in a beautiful room, with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

It felt like breathing after being underwater for months.

"I'm going to check out the balcony," Parker said, sliding open the glass door.

I joined him, and we stood there watching the sun start its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The ocean stretched out endlessly, and I could hear the distant sound of waves.

"This is really nice," Parker said quietly. "I didn't realize how much I needed this until right now."

"Me too."

We stood there in comfortable silence, and I felt some of the tension I'd been carrying for months start to ease from my shoulders. Here, away from everything, we could just be ourselves. No performance, no strategy, no careful navigation of what was real and what was fake.

Just Parker and me, like it used to be.

Like maybe it could be again.

The next morning, we headed down to the beach early, before the heat became oppressive. Parker had found some sunscreen in his bag and was struggling to apply it to his own back.

"Here, let me," I said, taking the bottle from him.

He turned, and I squeezed out some sunscreen, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was touching his bare back, or that his skin was warm under my hands, or that this felt more intimate than any of our staged photo shoots ever had.

"Thanks," he said when I finished, and there was something in his voice that made me think he'd noticed the moment too.

"No problem."

The beach was relatively empty—a few families with kids building sandcastles, a couple reading under an umbrella. We set up our spot and I pulled out the book I'd brought, determined to actually read it instead of just carrying it around as an accessory.

Parker immediately headed for the water. "Come on!"

"I'm good here."

"Cee, we're at a beach. You have to go in the water. That's the whole point."

"The whole point is relaxation, which I can do perfectly well from here—"

He jogged back and grabbed my hand, pulling me up. "Nope. Come on. You can read later."

The water was perfectly cool, and I had to admit it felt good after the heat. We waded in until we were waist-deep, and Parker immediately splashed me.

"You did not just—"

"What are you going to do about it?" He grinned, already backing away.

I splashed him back, and suddenly we were in a full water fight, laughing and shouting like kids. At one point he grabbed me around the waist to dunk me, but I twisted away and we both ended up falling into the shallow water.

When we surfaced, we were both laughing, and I realized we were very close, his hands still on my waist, water droplets caught in his eyelashes.

"You're trouble," I said, slightly breathless.

"You love it."

The moment stretched, something shifting in the air between us, but then a wave came and knocked us both sideways, breaking the tension. We spent the rest of the morning in the water, floating on our backs and diving under waves and forgetting about everything except this perfect moment.

By the time we headed back to our spot, I was pleasantly tired and sun-warmed.

"That was fun," I admitted, wringing out my hair.

"Told you."

We spent the afternoon reading and dozing, the kind of lazy nothing that felt like a luxury. At one point I looked over and saw Parker had fallen asleep, and I just watched him for a moment—his face relaxed, hair messy from the salt water, completely at peace.

This was what I'd wanted. Not just for me, but for him. For us to have this space to just exist.

Our plan for the evening was simple: dinner at the resort restaurant, maybe a walk on the beach, then an early night to rest properly for the first time in months.

But when we returned to the hotel around sunset, we found a crowd gathered outside the entrance.

"Uh, what's going on?" Parker asked, slowing his pace.

I felt my stomach drop as I realized what—or rather who—they were looking for. The crowd turned toward us almost in unison, and suddenly cameras were flashing and people were calling our names.

"How did they even find us?" I whispered, quickly pulling on my sunglasses and tugging my hat lower.

"Maybe hotel staff tipped them off?" Parker moved closer, his body angling to shield me from the worst of the cameras.

Of course. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of that possibility. We'd tried to be discreet, but we'd still checked in under our real names. All it would take was one person recognizing us and posting about it online.

Parker kept his arm around me as we pushed through the crowd, fielding shouted questions with polite "no comments" until we made it to the elevator. The doors closed, and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"I'm sorry," I said as we rode up to our floor.

"For what?"

"For ruining our vacation."

"You didn't ruin anything. It's not like you called them here." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "We'll figure it out."

Back in our room, I peeked through the curtains and saw that the crowd had only grown. So much for our quiet, anonymous getaway.

"I'm such an idiot," I said, dropping onto the couch. "I should have booked under fake names or found a more remote place or—"

"Cee, stop. You couldn't have predicted this." Parker sat next to me. "Look, we'll stay inside. There's TV, room service, they even have board games in the closet for some reason. We'll be fine."

"But it's not the same. You're being forced to stay inside instead of enjoying the vacation I planned." I thought for a minute, frustration building. "You know what, I bet they'll get bored and leave eventually. Later tonight, when it's dark, we can sneak out. Find somewhere else to stay, somewhere more low-key."

"Like where?"

"I don't know, a small inn or something. We can still do sightseeing even if we're not staying here."

"Are you sure? I'd hate for all your planning to go to waste."

"It's fine. I didn't have a huge itinerary anyway. I just picked this place because the location was nice. The location is still nice, we just need different accommodations." I was already pulling out my phone to search for alternatives. "We can make this work."

Parker watched me for a moment, then smiled. "Okay. Operation Vacation Rescue it is."

I woke to someone gently shaking my shoulder.

"You are terrible at staying up," Parker said, amusement in his voice.

I blinked groggily and looked around. I was on the couch, the Monopoly dice I'd been holding had rolled off my hand and was dangerously close to falling off the cushion. The clock on the wall read 3:49 AM.

"I fell asleep?"

"For about two hours. I kept playing and absolutely crushed you, by the way. You now owe me approximately four million fake dollars."

"That feels illegal." I yawned and stretched. "What have you been doing while I was out?"

"Just catching up on emails. Some script stuff." He gestured to his laptop on the coffee table.

"And who's the workaholic now?"

"Hey, you were unconscious. I was going to watch the new episode of Drowning Jungle, but it has a lot of sound effects and explosions and I figured it would wake you up."

Something warm spread through my chest. "You're way too considerate."

"I'll be ruder next time if you want."

I moved to the window and peeked through the curtains. The street below was much quieter now—the crowd had dispersed, probably given up for the night. There were still some people out, heading to the clubs and bars that lit up the nightlife district in the distance, but at least there weren't strangers camping outside our hotel anymore.

"Coast looks clear," I reported. "Should we make a run for it?"

"You really want to sneak out of a luxury resort at four in the morning to find a random motel?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds insane. But yes."

He laughed and grabbed his jacket. "Alright. Let's go."

We packed quickly, moving quietly even though we didn't really need to. There was something exciting about sneaking out, about escaping into the night like we were in some kind of adventure movie instead of just two celebrities trying to avoid paparazzi.

The hotel lobby was nearly empty, just a sleepy night clerk who barely looked up as we headed for the exit. Outside, the night air was cool and crisp, making me shiver.

"I didn't bring a jacket," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "I thought it would be warmer here. And I definitely didn't plan for late-night escapes."

"It's okay, I can man-age—" My teeth chattered on the last word, completely undermining my attempt to sound tough.

Parker laughed and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. "I'll be your human jacket."

I felt my face heat up despite the cold. "I don't think we can walk properly in this position."

"You're no fun." But he let me go, shrugging off his own jacket instead and draping it over my shoulders before I could protest.

We walked down the quiet streets, following signs toward the older part of town. The resort area gave way to smaller buildings, local shops, a more authentic feel.

"Where do you want to go?" Parker asked as we reached a fork in the road.

I smiled, remembering something I'd read during my initial research. "Actually, I heard there's a night market around here somewhere. Want to check it out?"

"At four in the morning?"

"It's a night market. The whole point is that it's open at night."

We followed the sound of distant music and chatter until we found it—a sprawling market filled with vendors and customers despite the late hour. It was busier than I'd expected, alive with energy and color.

"This is very lively," I said to Parker, having to almost yell over the noise.

The market was decorated with hanging fish and golden ornaments—festival season, apparently. We wandered through the stalls, and I stuck close to Parker, linking my arm through his so we wouldn't get separated in the crowd. It felt natural, automatic, like we'd done it a thousand times before.

Most of the vendors were selling traditional crafts—intricate woodwork, beautiful woven textiles, jewelry made from pearls and shells. Everything was colorful and expertly made. I bought necklaces for Diana and Violet, carefully selecting pieces I thought they'd like.

"You're not getting anything for yourself?" Parker asked.

"If I start, I won't stop. We'd end up with a mountain of luggage."

He held up a keychain shaped like a piano keyboard, the keys made from black and white shells. "This one's cute."

I picked up a different one from the basket—a simple shell carved into the shape of a wave. "I want this one."

The elderly vendor smiled knowingly. "For your boyfriend?"

"Oh, we're not—" I started, then stopped. Because we were, technically. At least as far as the world was concerned. "Yes. For him."

She winked at Parker as she wrapped it up. "You're a lucky man."

As we continued through the market, Parker stayed close, his hand finding mine at some point. We shared some kind of sweet fried dough from a vendor, burned our mouths on fresh roasted chestnuts, and took in all the sights and sounds.

It felt more like a date than any of our official promotional appearances ever had.

"This is better than the resort," I admitted as we finally left the market, both of us carrying small bags of treasures and snacks.

"Way better." Parker checked his phone. "It's almost five. Should we find that motel?"

We found a small place a few blocks away—nothing fancy, just a basic roadside inn with a blinking vacancy sign. The elderly man at the desk barely looked up from his newspaper as he handed us a key.

"Wouldn't staying at a motel together be considered scandalous?" Parker asked as we climbed the stairs to our room.

"People think we've been dating for years and we definitely did not abstain that whole time. At this point, if they find this scandalous, that's on them."

He laughed. "Fair point."

I unlocked the door and we stepped inside, then both stopped.

"There's only one bed," Parker said.

It was a double bed, not even a queen. The room itself was small but clean—basic furniture, a tiny bathroom, a window that looked out onto the quiet street.

"It's fine, I'll sleep on the floor," I said automatically.

Parker looked at the questionable tiles and shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'll take the floor."

"There is no way I'm letting you do that. You can sleep first—I had a nap earlier anyway."

"What, we're sleeping in shifts?"

"I guess that's not sustainable." I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You sleep first since you're clearly exhausted. I'll stay up for a bit, and then later I'll just... figure something out."

"Cee—"

"Just go to sleep, Parker."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out. Within minutes of lying down, he was out cold.

I did a quick survey of the small room—it really was bare-bones. The bed could probably fit both of us, but it would be close. Very close.

I sat in the single chair and pulled out my phone, trying to distract myself with social media, but I kept glancing over at Parker. In sleep, his face was relaxed, peaceful. He looked younger somehow, less burdened by the constant pressure of auditions and public appearances.

Without thinking, I moved closer and ran my hands gently through his hair. It was soft, slightly messy. My stomach fluttered with butterflies.

He looked more attractive than usual, even though he wasn't doing anything different. Maybe it was the moonlight through the window, or maybe it was just that I was finally admitting to myself what I'd been avoiding for weeks.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me too. The chair was uncomfortable, and the bed was right there, and Parker was asleep anyway. It would be fine.

I carefully slid onto the other side of the bed, trying to take up as little space as possible. My heart was beating loudly in my chest—so loud I worried it might wake him. I could feel the warmth of him next to me, hear his steady breathing.

This was just practical. Just two friends sharing a bed because there was nowhere else to sleep.

Except friends didn't make your heart race like this. Friends didn't make you hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep, trying not to think about how right this felt, how natural.

How much I wanted it to be real.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and the sound of birds outside. For a moment, I was disoriented—this wasn't our resort room, wasn't my apartment, wasn't anywhere familiar.

Then I became aware of the weight across my waist and the warmth at my back, and everything came flooding back.

Parker and I had somehow ended up curled together in sleep, his arm draped over me, my back pressed against his chest. We fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

I should move. I should definitely move.

But I didn't want to.

Instead, I lay there, letting myself have this moment. This peaceful, quiet morning where I could pretend this was real. That we woke up like this every day. That I was allowed to want this.

Parker stirred behind me, and I felt him tense slightly as he realized our position.

"Sorry," he mumbled, starting to pull away.

"It's okay," I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. "The bed's small. It's fine."

He didn't move back to his original position though. Neither did I.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. "Almost nine."

"We should probably find breakfast."

"Probably."

But neither of us moved. We just lay there, not quite cuddling but not quite separate either, in this strange liminal space between friendship and something more.

Finally, Parker sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm going to take a quick shower. Then we can figure out breakfast and what to do today."

"Sounds good."

After he disappeared into the bathroom, I sat up and looked around the small motel room. My notebook was in my bag, and I suddenly felt the urge to write.

I pulled it out and started scribbling—not anything specific, just fragments. Images and feelings from the past day. The beach, the water fight, the night market, the feeling of waking up next to him. The way my heart had raced sleeping in the same bed.

By the time Parker emerged from the shower, I had three pages of notes and the beginnings of a new song.

"Writing?" he asked, toweling his hair.

"Just some ideas."

"About the vacation?"

"About... everything." I closed the notebook. "Your turn for the shower. Then let's find some breakfast. I'm starving."

We found a small local café a few blocks away, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and coffee that tasted like it was made with love rather than precision. We ordered too much food and talked about nothing important, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"So what's the plan for today?" Parker asked, stealing a piece of my toast.

"I don't know. We could explore the town? There's supposed to be some nice hiking trails nearby. Or we could just wander and see what we find."

"I like option two." He smiled. "No planning. Just seeing where we end up."

"Look at you, corrupting my organized ways."

"Someone has to."

We spent the rest of the morning wandering through the old town, discovering small shops and hidden gardens and a bookstore that was so cluttered with books it felt like a maze. Parker bought me a poetry collection, I bought him a sci-fi novel. We didn't talk about our careers or our fake relationship or anything complicated.

We just existed together, and it was perfect.