Page 22 of Chasing Sunsets

Anson: Go to sleep, Tabby.

Me: You’re the one keeping me awake with your flirting.

Anson: You’re the one teasing me with all this talk about sleepovers.

I bite my lip, smiling in the dark.

Me: Good night, Anson.

Anson: Sweet dreams, Trouble.

I set my phone down on my chest, staring at the ceiling.

The crack still looks like a dolphin.

But now, all I can think about is him.

Anson

The sun is high, the sand is hot, and the volleyball is soaring through the air as I dive for it, arms outstretched. My palms connect, and I send it flying over the net just in time. Parker yells something about me being a show-off, but Sebastian slams the ball back before I can even gloat.

Game on.

I absolutely love days like this. It seems like they are becoming rarer as we grow older. Our carefree beach days from adolescence have been replaced by jobs and family responsibilities. So, when we finally have a free Saturday to come together and just enjoy the afternoon in the sun and play in the waves, we make the most of it.

We’ve been at it for nearly an hour, shirts off, sweat dripping, the sand clinging to our skin. Parker, Sebastian, Lennon, and me against a rotating mix of whoever wants to get destroyed. We’ve been playing together since we could walk. We don’t lose. That’s the unspoken rule.

A group of girls has gathered on the sidelines, watching, cheering, giggling every time one of us makes a play. We’re usedto it. This is how things go—tourists come to the island, looking for sun, fun, and maybe a little dalliance. And that last one? That used to be my specialty.

Used to be.

I love women. They come in so many shapes, sizes, and personalities, and I’ve made it my mission to appreciate them all—from the silly to the seriously intense. I admire smart women, funny women, shy ones, and those with a sharp tongue. I simply like them just the way they are.

I’ve never given much thought to anything beyond the thrill of meeting someone for the first time—the excitement of the first kiss and the first touch. Maybe it’s because I live in a tourist town, where a variety of beautiful faces comes and goes with each season. They breeze in and out, and I’ve always enjoyed that. But lately, I’ve found myself thinking more about the future and what I truly want out of life. I blame these guys. They went and found awesome women, fell in love, and are starting to make babies and build homes. Assholes.

I steal a quick glance at the girls stretched out on their towels nearby. Avie, Audrey, Amiya, and Heather—Audrey’s friend—are watching us, too, although they’re pretending they aren’t. They’re wearing sunglasses, but I can feel their judgment as our fans get louder. Meanwhile, Leia—Sebastian and Avie’s daughter—is playing with a bucket in the sand nearby.

Sebastian sets the ball high, and Parker spikes it down hard, sealing the win. The group of girls watching erupts in cheers, calling out my name.

Have I hooked up with one of them before?

I just shake my head, brushing sand off my chest as I walk over to grab my water bottle.

“Nice one, Anson!” one of them shouts, blonde and bronzed, flashing a dazzling smile.

Yep, definitely hooked up with her.

I nod politely, but don’t engage. I already know how this plays out. A little flirting, a little drinking, a night that doesn’t mean anything, and I’m not interested tonight.

And that’s weird.

“Well, well, well,” Amiya says as I approach, her voice dripping with amusement. “Who are you, and what have you done with Anson?”

I sigh, chugging some water before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “What’s that?”

Audrey tilts her head. “You just walked away from an entire group of girls throwing themselves at you.”

Heather chimes in, “Seriously. I was expecting at least one wink. Maybe a,Hey, sweetheart.” She deepens her voice to a cross between a wiseguy and an Italian Lothario.

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