Victor Barton

Costa Rica smelled of rain, wet leaves, and fresh water.

Two groups of friends, two completely different itineraries, two vacations that should never have crossed paths… until someone said:

—"You came too?!"

A hug between old acquaintances was enough to change all the plans.

What began as a greeting ended in an impromptu invitation.

—“What if we go on the excursion together tomorrow?”

Nobody had a problem.

Well… almost nobody.

—

He was the kind of person who attracted attention without trying to.

Tall, with shoulders marked by years of swimming and hiking, sun-tanned skin, and dark hair that seemed to refuse to stay in place, especially when he got out of the water. He always wore a simple silver chain around his neck and had a habit of smiling easily—a broad, confident smile, the kind that seemed to convince anyone that everything was going to be alright.
But the smile was deceiving.

He had a competitive nature to the point of exhaustion.

He couldn't stand losing. He couldn't stand being contradicted. And even less so when someone responded with the same level of sarcasm he used.