Page 33 of A Shore Fling
“Hey,” I call out the single greeting to everyone as I grab a beer from Reed’s cooler.
“What’s up, bro?” Jordan asks.
“Nothing new. How about you?” I kick off my slides. The tide’s out, and the sand’s packed firmly beneath my feet.
“I’m just happy to be outside enjoying this beautiful day,” Jordan replies, sipping from his can.
“Are we gonna play or what?” Reed asks.
I walk past him, patting his cheek. “You’re eager to get your ass kicked.”
“Not today, motherfucker,” Reed fires back, flexing a bicep.
Jordan holds out his fist so I can bump it. “We got this.”
“You two act like you never lose,” Drew says.
Jordan guzzles the rest of his beer and then tosses the empty can in the cooler. He casts a nonchalant glance at our baby brother. “I think you and Reed have beaten us twice in the past two years. It must suck to lose so often.”
As expected, Drew laughs. He’s a lover, not a fighter, and probably the nicest person I know. “Our time will come,” he states confidently.
“Yeah, but it won’t be today,” I say, taking my position on our side of the net.
“Ladies, are you sure you don’t want to get in on the fun?” Reed asks Willow and Ginger.
Willow holds up her margarita. “No, thanks. We’re conducting important business here.”
Reed grins. “I can see that.”
Ginger wrinkles her nose. “We’re going to keep our distance. One of you always ends up with a black eye or a bleeding body part.”
“Are you saying you’re not willing to play nurse for me, Ginger?” Jordan teases.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you can find any number of willing females to jump to your aid.”
“Maybe your hands are the only ones I want on me.” He winks.
She snorts. “I bet you tell all the girls that.”
“Jordan, get the fuck in position,” I finally shout. If there’s a pretty woman within ten feet, he’s liable to get distracted. He jogs over to our side of the net.
“Heads or tails?” Willow asks.
“Heads,” I reply at the same time Reed chooses tails.
Willow flips the quarter, and it lands in the sand at her feet. She leans forward in her chair. “Heads.”
“What the fuck, Will? You’re my best friend. Would it kill you to give me a leg up?” He throws the ball to me.
She rolls her eyes, or at least I imagine that’s what’s happening behind her large sunglasses. “It’s a brotherly game of volleyball, not a dead body that needs disposing of.”
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shout, “Stop whining, Reed.” He laughs, giving me the bird. I grab the ball, flipping it from one hand to the other.
“Shall we place a wager on this match?” Jordan asks.
Across the net, Reed doesn’t answer right away, but his smile sharpens, like he’s already dreaming up the terms.
“Are we talking money, bragging rights, or lifelong shame?” Drew asks.
