People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry
- Alisha Eadle
- 3 hours ago
- 13 min read
People We Meet on Vacation
by Emily Henry
Published by Berkley
Two best friends. Ten summer trips. One last chance to fall in love.
Poppy and Alex. Alex and Poppy. They have nothing in common. She’s a wild child; he wears khakis. She has insatiable wanderlust; he prefers to stay home with a book. And somehow, ever since a fateful car share home from college many years ago, they are the very best of friends. For most of the year they live far apart—she’s in New York City and he’s in their small hometown—but every summer for a decade, they have taken one glorious week of vacation together.
Until two years ago, when they ruined everything. They haven’t spoken since.
Poppy has everything she should want, but she’s stuck in a rut. When someone asks when she was last truly happy, she knows without a doubt it was on that ill-fated final trip with Alex. And so, she decides to convince her best friend to take one more vacation together—lay everything on the table, make it all right. Miraculously, he agrees.
Now she has a week to fix everything. If only she can get around the one big truth that has always stood quietly in the middle of their seemingly perfect relationship. What could possibly go wrong?
Genre
Triggers
I've read a lot of Emily Henry's work by now (reviews are coming), and I have to say ... People We Meet on Vacation is BY FAR my favorite.
And did you know it's going to be a movie? It releases on Netflix on January 9th, 2026 ... I'm considering it a birthday gift :)
The story is so much fun. It goes back and forth in time, chronicling Alex and Poppy meeting, their unlikely friendship, and their yearly vacations with one another. Emily drops enough teasers of what happens on their last vacation that ends their friendship, and it adds SO MUCH tension to their romance.
Like, best friends to lovers usually does it for me on that premise alone, but add in the tension of a fight that separates them, and going on vacation with one another after two years of not talking?
Delicious.
I also loved the characters.
I connected with Alex more than Poppy, because, frankly, I'm as introverted as they come, but I loved the ying-yang of their friendship.
The introvert.
The extravert.
Complete opposites in everything.
But the affection and respect between them was felt through the words on the page, which is what I want in these books.
I don't want to me told something.
I want to feel it.
People We Meet on Vacation might be on the top ten list of favorite books this year. I absolutely adored it.
It just made me feel happy.
I can't wait to watch the movie in January!
Poppy: "Then what brings you to town?"
Alex: "A friend."
His eyes drop to his phone.
Poppy: "Lives here?"
I guess.
Alex: "Dragged me,"
he corrects.
Alex: "For vacation."
He says this last word with some distain.
I roll my eyes.
Poppy: "No way! Away from your cat? With no good excuse except for enjoyment and merrymaking? Are you sure this person can really be called a friend?"
Alex: "Less sure every second,"
he says without looking up.
He's not giving me much to work with, but I'm not giving up.
Poppy: "So, What's this friend like? Hot? Smart? Loaded?"
Alex: "Short,"
he says, still reading.
Alex: "Loud. Never shuts up. Spills on every single article of clothing either of us wears, has horrible romantic taste, sobs through those commercials for community college - the ones where the single mom is staying up late at her computer and then, when she falls asleep, her kid drapes a blanket over her shoulders and smiles because he's so proud of her? What else? Oh, she's obsessed with shitty dive bars that smell like salmonella. I'm afraid to even drink the bottled beer here - have you seen the Yelp reviews for this place?"
Poppy: "Are you kidding right now?"
I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
Alex: "Well, salmonella doesn't have a smell, but yes, Poppy, you are short."
Poppy: "Alex!"
I swat his bicep, breaking character.
Poppy: "I know Sarah broke your heart, but you need to get back out there. And when a hot babe approaches you at a bar, the number one thing you should not bring up is your codependent relationship with your asshole cat."
Alex: "First of all, Flannery O'Connor is not an asshole. She's shy."
Poppy: "She's evil."
Alex: "She just doesn't like you. You have strong dog energy."
Poppy: "All I've ever done is try to pet her. Why have a pet who doesn't want to be petted?"
Alex: "She wants to be petted. You just always approach her with this, like, wolfish gleam in your eye."
Poppy: "I do not."
Alex: "Poppy. You approach everything with a wolfish gleam in your eye."
Poppy: "So, should we take it from the top again? I'll be the sexy stranger at the bar and you be your charming self, minus the cat stuff. We'll get you back in the dating pool in no time."
He looks up from his phone, nearly smirking. I'll just call it smirking, because for Alex, this is as close as it gets.
Alex: "You mean the stranger who kicks things off with a well-timed 'Hey, Tiger'? I think we might have different ideas of what 'sexy' is."
I spin on my stool, our knees bump-bumping as I turn away from him and then back, resetting my face into a flirtatious smile.
Poppy: "Did it hurt ... when you fell from heaven?"
He shakes his head.
Alex: "Poppy, it's important to me that you know,"
he says slowly,
Alex: "that if I ever do manage to go on another date, it will have absolutely nothing to do with your so-called help."
Rachel: "Anyway, she told me that sometimes, when you lose your happiness, it's best to look for it that same way you'd look for anything else."
Poppy: "By groaning and hurling couch cushions around?"
I guess.
Rachel: "By retracing your steps. So, Poppy, all you have to do is think back and ask yourself, when was the last time you were truly happy?"
The problem is, I don't have to think back. Not at all.
I know right away when I was last truly happy.
Two years ago, in Croatia, with Alex Nilsen.
Poppy: SandwichES? PLURAL?
I type back now.
Poppy: Please, please, please tell me you have become a full-fledged hoagie thief.
Alex: Delallo's not a hoagie fan. Lately she's been hot for Reubens.
Poppy: And how many of these Reubens have you stolen?
Alex: Assuming the NSA is reading this, none.
Poppy: You're a high school English teacher in Ohio; of course they're reading.
He send back a sad face.
Alex: Are you saying I'm not important enough for the U.S. government to monitor?
...
Poppy: Of course you're important. If the NSA knew the power of Sad Puppy Face, you'd be in a lab getting cloned right now.
Rachel: "She gets anxious when I leave New York too. New Jersey is about as far as the umbilical cord stretches for us. Now let's get some juice. That cheese board has basically formed a cork in my butthole and everything's just piling up behind it."
Alex: "Maybe I'm not as uptight as you think I am."
Poppy: "Really? So you won't mind if I put Mariah Carey's 'All I Want for Christmas Is You'?"
Alex: "It's May."
Poppy: "I'll consider my question answered."
Alex: "That's unfair. What kind of a barbarian listens to Christmas music in May?"
Poppy; "And if it were November tenth, what about then?"
Alex's mouth presses closed.
I plug my phone in, turn on the stereo, and scroll to David Bowie's "Young Americans." Within seconds, he visibly grimaces.
Poppy: "What?"
Alex: "Nothing,"
he insists.
Poppy: "You just twitched like the marionette controlling you fell asleep."
He squints at me.
Alex: "What does that mean?"
Poppy: "You hate this song."
Alex: "I do not,"
he says unconvincingly.
Poppy: "You hate David Bowie."
Alex: "Not at all! It's not David Bowie."
Poppy: "Then what is it?"
An exhale hisses out of him.
Alex: "Saxophone."
Poppy: "Saxophone."
Alex: "Yeah. I just ... really hate the saxophone. Any song with a saxophone on it is instantly ruined."
Poppy: "Someone should tell Kenny G."
Alex: "Name one song that was improved by a saxophone,"
Alex challenges.
Poppy: "I'll have to consult the notepad where I keep track of every song that has saxophone."
Alex: "No song."
Poppy: "I bet your fun at parties."
Alex: "I'm fine at parties."
Poppy: "Just not middle school band concerts."
He glances sidelong at me.
Alex: "You're really a saxophone apologist?"
Poppy: "No, but I'm willing to pretend, if you're not finished ranting."
Mom: Give Alex a big hug and a kiss for me :)
she writes, with the smiley face typed out. She never remembered how to use emojis and becomes impatient immediately when I try to show her. "I can type them out just fine!" she insists.
My parents: not the biggest fans of change.
Poppy: Do you want me to grab his butt while I'm at it?
Mom: If you think that will work. I'm getting tired of waiting for grandbabies.
I roll my eyes and exit out of the message.
Poppy: "Are you afraid of flying?"
Alex: "No!"
he whispers, considerate of the other sleeping passengers even in his panic.
Alex: "I'm afraid of dying."
Poppy: "You're not going to die,"
I promise. The jet settles into a rhythm, but the seat belt light comes on and Alex keeps gripping the armrests like someone's flipped the plan upside down and started trying to shake us out.
Alex: "That doesn't seem good. It sounded like something broke off the plane."
Poppy: "That was the sound of your elbow smashing into my face."
Alex: "What?"
He looks over. The two simultaneous expressions on his face are surprise and confusion.
Poppy: "You hit me in the face!"
Alex: "Oh, shit. Sorry. Can I see?"
I pull my hand away from my throbbing cheekbone, and Alex leans in close, his fingers hovering over my skin. His hand falls away without ever landing.
Alex: "It looks okay. Maybe we should see if a flight attendant can bring some ice."
Poppy: "Good idea. We can call her over and tell her you hit me in the face, but I'm sure it was an accident and also it's not your fault - you were surprised and -"
Alex: "God, Poppy. I'm really sorry."
Poppy: "It's okay. It doesn't hurt that bad."
Alex: "How do David and Tham live here?"
he says, sounding disgusted.
Poppy: "The same way you live in Ohio. Sadly, and with heavy drinking."
Poppy: "What percentage of that pool do you think is pee by now?"
I ask, tipping my head to the gaggle of sunhat-wearing babies splashing on the steps with their parents.
Alex grimaces.
Alex: "Don't say that."
Poppy: "Why not?"
Alex: "Because it's so hot I'm going to get in the water anyway, and I don't want to think about it."
Poppy: "Ready?"
I say, and he springs off the stool like I was born read to not be sitting next to your intimidating father.
Alex: "Yep."
He scrubs his hands down the fronts of his pants legs.
Alex: "Yeah."
It's right around then that he clocks the box of condoms tucked under my arm.
Poppy: "This? This is just five hundred condoms my mom gave me in case we start boning."
Alex's face flushes.
Mom: "Poppy!:
Mom cries.
Dad looks over his shoulder, aghast.
Dad: "Since when are you two romantically involved?"
Alex: "I don't ... We don't ... do that, sir,"
Alex tries.
Poppy: "Here, will you carry these out to the car, Dad?"
I toss them over the island to him.
Poppy: "My arm's getting tired from holding it. Hopefully our hotel has those big luggage carts."
Alex is still not-quite-looking at Dad.
Alex: "We really aren't ..."
Mom digs her hands into her hips.
Mom: "That was supposed to be private. Look, you're embarrassing him. Don't embarrass him, Poppy. Don't be embarrassed, Alex."
Poppy: "It was never going to be private for long. If that box doesn't fit in the trunk, we're going to have to strap it to the top of the station wagon."
Dad sets the box on the side table and starts reading the side of it with a furrow in his brow.
Dad: "Are these really made out of lambskin? Are they reusable?"
Alex cannot hide his shudder.
Mom offers up,
Mom: "I wasn't sure if either of them is allergic to latex!"
Poppy: "Okay, we've got to hit the road. Come give us hugs goodbye. The next time you see us, you might just be grandpar -"
I drop off, stop rubbing my tummy meaningfully when I see the look on Alex's face.
Poppy: "Kissing! We're just friends. Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad!"
Alex: "Do they do rooms by the hour here?"
he says skeptically.
Poppy: "Doesn't really matter since I left the condom crate at home."
He shudders and drops onto one of the beds, satisfied that it's big free.
Alex: "If I hadn't had to witness that, it would actually be pretty sweet."
Poppy: "I still had to witness it, Alex. Don't I matter?"
Alex: "Yeah, but you're her daughter. The closest my dad ever came to giving us the sex talk was leaving a book about purity on each of our beds around the time we turned thirteen. I thought masturbating caused cancer until I was, like, sixteen."
He sighs. If there's one thing Alex Nilsen hates, it's being helpless. Which goes hand in hand with being waited on. In college, when he had strep throat, he ghosted me for a week (the first time I was truly mad at him). When his roommate told me Alex was laid up with a fever, I made very bad chicken noodle soup in our dorm kitchen and brought it to his room.
He locked the door and wouldn't let me in for fear of passing the strep along, so I started yelling, "I'm keeping the baby, okay?" through the doorway and he relented.
Poppy: "Only my parents are ever going to love me. I'm going to die alone."
I knew how stupid and melodramatic it sounded, but with him, it was always so hard to rein myself in, to say anything but the absolute truth of how I felt. And worst of all, I hadn't even known that was how I felt until this moment. Alex's presence had a way of drawing the truth right to my surface. He shook his head and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me, lifting me up into him like he planned to absorb me.
Alex: "I love you,"
he said, and kissed my head.
Alex: "And if you want, we can die alone together."
Poppy: "I love it when you get weird."
He squints tipsily at me as we walk.
Alex: "You make me weird. I'm not like this with anyone else."
Poppy: "You make me weird too,"
I say; then,
Poppy: "Should we get real tattoos that say 'All the world's a stage'?"
Alex: "Gladys and Keith would,"
Alex says, taking a long drink from his water bottle. He passes it to me afterward, and I greedily chug half of it.
Poppy: "So that's a yes?"
Alex: "Please don't make me."
Poppy: "But Alex,"
I cry.
Poppy: "Theme matt-"
He pops the water bottle back in my mouth.
Alex: "Once your sober, I promise you won't think it's funny anymore."
Poppy: "I will always think every joke I make it hilarious, but point taken."
Alex: "This place is horrible. You love it, don't you?"
I nod, and he grins. We have to stand so close I Have to tip my head all the way back to see him at all. He brushes my hair from my eyes and cups the back of my neck, as if to stabilize it.
Alex: "I'm sorry for being so tall,"
he says over the metal music thrumming through the bar.
Poppy: "I'm sorry for being so short."
Alex: "I like you short. Never apologize for being short."
I try again to give him the puppy face as we're crossing the parking lot, and he laughs and shoves my face away.
Alex: "You're not good at that."
Poppy: "Your severe reaction would suggest otherwise."
Alex: 'You legitimately look like you're shitting."
Poppy: "That's not my shitting face. This is."
I strike a Marilyn Monroe pose, legs wide, one hand braced against my thigh, the other covering my open mouth.
Alex: "That's nice. You should put that on your blog."
Quickly, stealthily, he whips his phone out and snaps a picture.
Poppy: "Hey!"
Alex: "Maybe a toilet paper company will endorse you,"
he suggests.
Poppy: "Thank you for never making me drive,"
I say as he gets in, hissing at the feel of the hot seat, and clicks his seat belt.
Alex: "Thank you for hating driving and allowing me to have some modicum of control over my life in this vast and unpredictable universe."
I wink at him.
Poppy: "No prob."
He laughs.
Poppy: "I've never really felt alone since I met you. I don't think I'll ever feel truly alone in this world again as long as you're in it."
His gaze softens, holds steady for a beat.
Alex: "Do you want to stop?"
he asks, his eyes dark.
I shake my head.
Poppy: "I just ... never get to look at you like this."
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile.
Alex: "You could have always looks,"
he says in a low voice.
Alex: "Just so you know."
Poppy: "Well, you could've too."
Alex: "Trust me. I did."
Alex: "God, Poppy. I spent so much time trying not to want you."
He lifts me off the sink and carries me to the bed.
Poppy: "And not nearly enough time kissing me,"
I say, his laugh rattling against my ear as he lays us down.
Poppy: "How long do we have?"
He kisses the very center of my chest.
Alex: "We can be late."
Poppy: "How late?"
Alex: "As late as it takes."
Poppy: "I feel broken too,"
I tell him, my voice cracking into something thin and hoarse.
Poppy: "I've always felt like once someone sees me deep down, that's it. There's something ugly in there, or unlovable, and you're the only person who's ever made me feel like I'm okay."
His hand sweeps gently across my face, and I open my eyes, meet his head-on.
Poppy: "There's nothing scarier than the chance that, once you really have all of me, that changes. But I want all of you, so I'm trying to be brave."
Alex: "Nothing will change how I feel about you,"
he murmurs.
Alex: "I've been trying to stop loving you since that night you went inside to make out with the pothead water taxi driver."
I laugh, and he smiles just a little.
Poppy: "I'm sorry! I just made that weird. Sorry."
Alex: "No."
He slips his hand back into mine.
Alex: "Actually, I think I just developed a fetish that's specifically you delivering hard truths to my father."
Poppy: "In that case, let's go have some words with him about that mustache."
I start to walk away, and Alex pulls me back to him, his hands light on my waist, voice low beside my ear.
Alex: "In case I don't kiss you as pornographically as I want to for the rest of the night, please know that after this trip, I'll be investing in therapy to understand why I feel incapable of expressing happiness in front of my family."
Poppy: "And thus my fetish of Alex Nilsen Exhibiting Self-Care was born,"
I say, and he sneaks a quick kiss on the side of my head.
Poppy: "I still have a lot to figure out, but the one thing I know is, wherever you are, that's where I belong. I'll never belong anywhere like I belong with you. No matter what I'm feeling, I want you next to me. You're home to me, Alex. And I think I'm that for you too."
Poppy: "I don't regret telling you. I said I'd give anything up, risk anything for you, and I meant it."
Even my own heart.
Poppy: "I love you all the way, Alex. I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't at least told you."