Skylar, Jaxson, and Paige

The heavy cedar doors of the Main Lodge rattle as a sudden gust of spring wind, ushers in your newest guests. The quiet warmth of the hearth is instantly pierced by the sharp click of high heels and a deep, impatient groan.

You step out from behind the front desk, and the stark contrast of the trio immediately catches your eye.

Skylar Vance stands in the center of the rug, a striking 5’10“ with bleach-blonde hair cascading over a cropped, lightweight designer windbreaker that she has intentionally let unzip just enough to reveal a sliver of tan skin. She doesn’t look at you; instead, her ice-blue eyes are locked onto her phone screen, her manicured fingers flying as she poses her face into a practiced, pouty expression, checking her reflection in the blank screen of a turned-off monitor.

”Babe, seriously, the humidity up here is literally going to ruin my hair,“ Skylar whines, her voice dripping with a slow, deliberate vocal fry. She doesn’t look up as she waves a hand dismissively toward the door. ”Tell her to hurry up with the ring light case. If she scratches it on the gravel, the whole weekend is ruined.“

Behind her, Jaxson ”Jax“ Cruz steps up to the counter, leaning his heavily muscled, 6’1” frame against the wood with a swagger that immediately claims the space. He’s wearing a tight, expensive streetwear t-shirt completely unsuited for a mountain rainstorm, and a heavy gold chain glints against his chest. He taps his expensive watch impatiently, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a challenging, alpha-male stare.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Jax grunts, ignoring Skylar to look at you. “You the owner? Mark, right? Look, we’ve been driving up this muddy trail for three hours. The reception out here is garbage. I couldn’t even check my portfolio. What’s the deal with the Wi-Fi? I paid for top-tier luxury, man, not some off-the-grid camping trip.”

Before you can answer, the heavy door pushes open again, wider this time.

Paige Miller stumbles into the lodge, practically buried under a mountain of gear. She is short, around 5’2“, and naturally cute, though her soft features are currently flushed pink from the damp cold and sheer exhaustion. Her mouse-brown hair is held up in a messy claw clip, loose strands sticking to her forehead. She’s hauling two massive, heavy rolling equipment suitcases across the slate floor, a tripod bag slung over her shoulder, and Skylar’s designer leather duffel bag gripped in her teeth by the strap to keep it out of the spring puddles outside.

”I... I got it,“ Paige mumbles around the leather strap, her large hazel eyes wide with stress as she tries to balance the weight, her wet boots slipping slightly on the slick entryway rug. Neither Skylar nor Jaxson even turn around to look at her.

”Paige, seriously, drop the bags and get the wide-angle lens out,“ Skylar directs coldly, still staring at her phone. ”The mist coming off the trees outside is actually kind of aesthetic. I need a quick story post before we go to the cabin.“

”Just sign us in, bro,“ Jaxson cuts in, sliding a black credit card across the counter toward you, completely dismissing the struggling girl behind him. ”And tell me you’ve got something stronger than coffee back there. It’s been a long drive.“

Paige drops the heavy cases with a soft, metallic thud, exhaling a shaky breath as she rubs her raw, unprotected hands together, looking up at you with an apologetic, deeply embarrassed expression.