Page 34 of A Shore Fling
“You two have already fulfilled the lifelong shame part with all your previous losses,” I point out.
“I’ve got it. Losers have to hold hands with their teammate for an hour,” Reed suggests.
Jordan quirks an eyebrow. “You like Drew that much?”
“Hey, I’m likable as fuck,” Drew defends.
“You are, bud.” Reed rubs his hand over Drew’s head, then sends a cocky look our way. “Let’s just say I’m feeling confident today.”
“You’re on,” Jordan says, agreeing to the stakes.
“We better win this. I definitely don’t like you that much,” I grumble.
Jordan laughs. “Dude, we’ve got this.”
The serve is mine. I toss the ball into the air, flex my wrist, and slam it over the net. Reed’s prepared, popping the ball up effortlessly.
“Try again, Grandpa,” he says, brushing sand from his hands as Drew hustles under it shouting, “I got it! I got it!” Like an enthusiastic puppy. He bumps it over.
Jordan lets it fall to the sand without even trying.
“Jordan,” I say flatly.
“Figured we’d spot them a few points,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “Then,bam!We destroy them.”
“Don’t get too confident. I don’t want your sweaty palm glued to mine for an hour.”
His lips stretch with a smirk. “Like that would happen.”
Shaking my head, I scoop up the ball and then throw it over to Reed. He tosses it up, making the serve. Jordan gets under it this time, jumping into the air, then slamming the ball downward over the net.Crack.Drew’s face takes the hit. I flinch at the sound.
“Shit! Sorry, bro,” Jordan calls out.
Drew drops down on one knee, groaning and clutching his bleeding nose while Willow and Ginger let out a collective gasp. Reed hurries over to him. “You okay?”
“I think so. Is it still straight?” He stands, moves his hand away, and tips his head back.
Reed nods. “Good news is, it’s not broken. Bad news is, you’re still ugly.”
We all laugh, Drew included, because he’s a handsome fucker. Not even a crooked nose would change that.
I grab a towel from one of the beach bags and hand it to him. “You’re fine.”
He wipes at the blood trickling toward his mouth. “Just another battle wound from one of you fuckers.” He blows his nose dramatically.
“Are we going to get back to playing or what?” Jordan asks, all out of sympathy.
We get back into position as the wind shifts, blowing a cooler breeze over us. I sigh, enjoying the respite from the heat, and pick up the ball. “You sure you’re okay to play?” I ask Drew.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
I spin the ball in my hands before tossing it up in the air. I send it sailing over the net, and Reed dives, barely making contact. The ball pops up just enough for Drew to get his hands underneath it and send it over to our side. Jordan pounds it like it’s a mortal enemy, sending it forcefully back. Neither Reed or Drew gets there in time.
“Yes!” Jordan high-fives me.
The match continues until we’re all sweating profusely. Jordan and I are up by five points, and we only need one more to win.
Reed signals for a time-out. “I need water.”
