After a recent OCD diagnosis, a teen girl embarks on a trip to Greece with her best friend, when she meets a captivating local girl. As their relationship heats up under the Mediterranean sun, she learns to balance the needs of those she loves with that of her own heart. When Natalie Campbell sets out on a class trip to Greece, she knows that checking off a summer bucket list with her best friend, Liam, is the perfect way to deal (or rather, not deal) with her new OCD diagnosis she’s doing a beautiful job of ignoring. But when she grows closer with their Greek instructor’s daughter, Melanie, Natalie’s summer plans may be ruined in the best way possible. Natalie soon finds herself sneaking on boat rides to hidden beaches, taking secret midnight hikes to ancient ruins, and jetting off to nearby islands with Melanie as her guide. Falling for Melanie should be smooth sailing. Only Natalie can’t help but think—and overthink—that love is equally thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Can she learn that sometimes the biggest adventures come with following your heart? "This is a delightful beach read for preteens, teens, and anyone who’s too anxious to enjoy fun in the sun." — Booklist "A charming , sunshine-drenched romance." — Kirkus Reviews Auriane Desombre is a middle school teacher and author of love stories for teens and tweens, including I Think I Love You, The Sister Split, I Love You S'More, and Love in Ruins . She currently lives in Los Angeles with her wife and daughter, their badly behaved dog, and an ever-growing collection of houseplants (most of which are pretty well behaved). Chapter One I'm just stepping off a plane, but it feels like I'm throwing myself off a precipice. My whole life-at least, from the moment I got my five-year-old hands on the pages of D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths-has been building toward this moment. Now that it's finally here, my primary emotion is sheer exhaustion. Momentous life moments simply should not happen right after ten hours of sitting upright in the world's smallest chair. Liam bumps against my shoulder as we follow Ms. Barlowe down the Jetway to customs. I would be well cast in "The Princess and the Pea," but he has the magical ability to fall asleep anywhere. The pep in his step is absurd. "Can you believe we're here?" he asks, hoisting his duffel higher across his shoulder. "Honestly?" I look around the customs line. We're surrounded by gray walls, fluorescent lighting, and a blue carpet underfoot, thick with dirt. The view from the large windows gives out onto nothing but an airplane parking lot. Airports are too stuck out of time for the moment to sink in, even with the Greek letters printed on every sign. "It doesn't feel real." Most of our cohort seems to feel similarly. George is staring through the winding customs line as if the room were empty, and Bodhi stands next to him with equally vacant eyes. Amalia is practically asleep on Lucy's shoulder. Henry's yawns are so huge, I can see straight to his tonsils. Liam and Ms. Barlowe are the only ones who seem capable of registering their surroundings. "That's what you get for watching Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again instead of sleeping on the plane," Liam tells me. I flick him lightly on the temple. "Don't disrespect Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again like that. It's art. And I wouldn't have been able to sleep, anyway." The toddler behind me saw to that. Not that I begrudge him the two a.m. sobfest. Kids have just as much of a right to be on a plane or any public space as adults do, and they're allowed to do normal kid things like cry when there's turbulence. But I'm an insomniac in the best conditions. Spotify crowns me as a proud top 1 percent listener of "10 Hours Air Conditioner Noises" every year for a reason. Despite my exhaustion making time feel stretchy and slow, I make it to the front of the line, the customs officer approves me, and I follow the group to baggage claim. There are seven of us in total, plus Ms. Barlowe. The eight biggest nerds in our school. The only ones not just willing but desperate to give up a free period every day to study classics. Once a day we meet in Ms. Barlowe's tiny classroom to throw ourselves into the ancient world and everything it has to offer. And now, thanks to Ms. Barlowe winning a grant from some fancy teacher fellowship program, we're spending a month of our summer break in actual Greece. Even though I'm here, staring at the baggage claim carousel and waiting for my blue sticker-covered suitcase to appear, I can't wrap my head around it. I'm in Greece. My first time out of New York City, and it's to actual, real-life, where-the-myths-originated Greece. I keep repeating it in my head, hoping it will sink in. I connect to the airport Wi-Fi after successfully guessing which Greek-lettered buttons to click on, and my phone immediately lights up with a billion notifications. I ignore the ones from the family group chat, which might as well be rename