Goldridge Academy had never done this before.
Excursions were usually safe, local, academic-heavy trips — museums, research facilities, historical tours — the sort of thing you posted about once on Instagram and forgot about after the quiz that followed. But this? This was different.
Dubai. The shining city in the desert, skyscrapers stabbing the clouds, malls the size of small countries, beaches that looked unreal. This trip wasn't about learning. This was a reward. A celebration for the final years who had survived the nightmare of exams and the strictest teachers on earth.
But as the plane touched down and the heat of the desert pressed against the glass windows, one thing was already clear: in Dubai, money talked.
And some students were about to scream.
Luxury vs. Standard
The school had set up three tiers for accommodations:
Standard rooms, comfortable but basic, four students to a room.
Deluxe suites, for those who could pay extra, with a little more privacy and nicer amenities.
Executive suites, the type you saw on travel vlogs — penthouse-level, private balconies, and views that looked like they were ripped from Pinterest.
The moment the groups started checking in at the hotel, the lines between the students became painfully obvious. Some dragged their suitcases toward the standard floors, faces already burning with envy. Others strutted toward the deluxe elevators, proud to flex the money their parents dropped.
And then there was Zion.
Nonchalant as always, he strolled through the lobby in a crisp white shirt, pulling his carry-on behind him with one hand while typing on his phone with the other. When the receptionist confirmed the five executive suites under his name, the lobby froze.
Mabelle. Celeste. Mikey. Isla.
And one extra name nobody expected: Lucian.
Lucian's Return
Lucian appeared like he had walked straight out of a lifestyle magazine. Tall, with a sharp jawline, dark hair styled in that effortless messy way, and a confidence that wasn't loud but undeniable.
For most of the group, he was a stranger. For Zion, he was family — the childhood friend he hadn't seen since before high school, when Lucian's family relocated to Dubai.
"Man," Lucian grinned, pulling Zion into a tight embrace right in the middle of the marble lobby. "You've changed. You're taller, but that smug face? Same as ever."
Zion smirked. "Takes one to know one."
The others stared. For once, Zion's calm aura seemed matched. Lucian didn't flinch around him, didn't shrink into the background like everyone else.
And Isla? Isla's heart did a double-flip. She didn't even know his last name yet, but the way his voice curled around words, smooth and deep — yeah, she was gone.
The Executive Life
When the group arrived at their floor, it felt like stepping into another universe. Gold-plated door handles. Hallways that smelled faintly of vanilla and sandalwood. Rooms with glass walls overlooking the entire city.
"Zion, are you… for real right now?" Mabelle asked, spinning in the middle of her suite's living room, where the chandelier alone probably cost more than a year's tuition.
Zion just shrugged, tossing his luggage on the velvet couch. "We worked hard. We deserve it."
Mabelle's lips curved into a smile — the kind only he got to see.
Celeste, sprawled on her balcony, already had her phone out for the perfect selfie. Mikey collapsed on the bed like he hadn't slept in a week, muttering, "Bro, I could live here forever."
And Isla? Isla barely looked at her room. Her eyes kept drifting down the hall, to where Lucian was unpacking.
The Shopping Spree
Not everyone got executive treatment, and jealousy was alive and well. Downstairs, students whispered about Zion's flex, half in awe, half in disgust.
"Who books five executive suites?""Rich boy showing off.""Can't he ever be normal?"
But upstairs, Zion and his circle were too busy planning the next move: shopping for the festival stalls. Each branch had to put together presentations and market booths that represented their campus.
The UK branch, naturally, went all out.
Mabelle insisted on coordinating — spreadsheets, group chats, receipts. "We're not embarrassing ourselves in front of the Sweden branch. Or the US branch. We'll outshine them."
So, off they went into the Dubai Mall, splitting up to cover more ground.
Mabelle disappeared into a boutique, arms full of fabric for costumes. Celeste negotiated with a spice vendor like she'd been doing it her whole life. Mikey, hilariously, got distracted by sneakers and came back with two extra shopping bags that had nothing to do with the festival.
And Isla? Isla tagged along with Lucian.
Isla & Lucian
They moved through the mall together, brushing past glass storefronts that sparkled with jewelry, cologne, designer everything. Lucian was charming without trying — opening doors, cracking jokes about how Zion used to trip over his shoelaces as a kid, leaning in close when he asked her opinion on fabrics.
"You're quiet," Lucian finally said as they paused near the fountain, lights dancing on the water.
Isla's cheeks warmed. "Just… taking it all in."
"You're different from the others," he said, and the way his eyes lingered made her chest feel too tight.
For the first time in a long while, Kevin's shadow wasn't hovering over her. She smiled.
Rivalries in the Air
While the shopping trip was mostly smooth, drama followed them like perfume.
The Sweden branch strutted through the mall in matching outfits, led by Dante — still cocky from his basketball rivalry with Zion. He made sure to bump shoulders with him at one point, muttering, "Hope your booth's better than your jump shot."
Zion didn't even blink. "It will be."
Meanwhile, the US branch rolled in like celebrities — loud, bold, snapping selfies every five seconds. Elias smirked at Mikey from across the food court, and everyone felt the tension spark again.
Nightfall
Back at the hotel, the group gathered in Zion's suite, the city lights glittering through the glass walls. Plans for the festival lay scattered across the coffee table, but conversation had shifted.
Mabelle leaned against Zion, their shoulders brushing, as they scrolled through ideas. Celeste was on the balcony, FaceTiming her cousin. Mikey sprawled on the couch, texting someone with a grin. Isla sat quietly, sneaking glances at Lucian whenever he laughed.
It felt… almost peaceful. Like, for once, the toxicity had taken a break.
Until the universe decided peace was overrated.
The Surprise
The elevator dinged. Voices spilled down the hall — familiar voices, too familiar.
Mabelle frowned. "No way."
Lucian cocked his head. "Friends of yours?"
Then the footsteps stopped right outside. The suite door wasn't locked, and when it swung open, time seemed to freeze.
Kevin.
Standing there in designer casuals, a hotel keycard dangling from his fingers, eyes locking directly onto Zion.
The room went dead silent.
No warnings. No foreshadowing. Just a ghost, back from the dead, standing in the middle of their Dubai dream.
And his smile? Cold. Calculated. Dangerous.