God, his smooth voice could hypnotize the blind.
“That’s good,” I reply levelheaded and not sounding as if I’m swooning over him. “Will it take a long time for it to be finished?”
“Completion is about a year and a half.”
“Wow. Does it not drive you crazy to have to wait so long to see the final product?”
His brown eyes glow. “In the beginning it used to. Now it’s just part of it. You wouldn’t fair well. It’s one of those surprises you know is coming.” He looks over my head and back to me, leaning close. “Cody seems to be moving on without you.”
Aimee and Cody are completely enthralled with each other. Eye contact. Grins. Breathy laughs.
I place my hand on my chest. “I guess we weren’t meant to be.”
Nathan’s view drops to my lips and he shakes his head. “Not you two, no.”
No words come to me. He has my senses scrambled…again.
“You two up for volleyball?” he asks.
Aimee and I share a devious glance. “I am,” she says.
Nonchalantly, I shrug. “Sure.”
“You can be on my team,” Cody tells Aimee.
“Actually…let’s do boys against girls,” Aimee replies. “I don’t know you and Brooklyn’s my best friend.”
Cody grins. “Are we making any bets?”
“Winner gets a dinner date?” Nathan smirks.
Aimee’s shaking her head adamantly. “No.” Her face is contrite. “How about winners get flowers?”
Cody barks a laugh. “As long as they’re pretty.”
“I can do that.” Nathan says. “The volleyball nets are just around the corner.
This will be interesting.
TWENTY-ONE
The volleyball court is also the tennis court and I’m grateful for it. Hard courts, not sandy ones, are easier and also where Aimee and I are the best. The guys strut to the other side, their egos causing them to think they have this in the bag.
Aimee turns her back to them and faces me. “They don’t look like anything outside of wing it beach ballers to me.”
Meaning, they’ve only played for recreation and never for sport.
“Agreed. Hustle til half?”
Wickedness splits her face. “Then we’ll kick their asses.”
“First to fifteen?” Nathan shouts.
“You mean points or minutes?” I call back…innocently.
“Points, sweetheart.”
“Oh. Yeah. That sounds good.”
They roll the ball over to us since “ladies first” and the game begins. I flub the first serve, swinging and missing it. The second try, it hits our side of the net and Aimee fumbles to catch it, failing. My third try, I hit it over the net. We bump it over the net several times, Aimee and I looking clumsy as ever. The guys are there to make sure we don’t score a point. We allow it.
Five points in and Nathan walks to the net, crooking his finger at me. “Can I change our bet? Just mine and yours. We win, you come to my place for dinner.”
Playfully, I scowl. “Are you preying on the weak?”
Chuckling, he spreads his hands and bows his head. “Please retract my counteroffer.”
I giggle, jogging backward and fake a stumble. These boys have no idea what’s about to hit them.
We get back to the game, hitting the ball back and forth. They’re up eight points to our nothing when Aimee calls a time out.
“Hold on!” she shouts out and jogs to me with a gleam in her eyes. “The Abs show time?”
I give a curt nod smiling. “The Abs show time.”
“They switch between strong and weak side. I say we alternate with them. You stay with your guy and I’ll keep up with Cody.”
“Time for flowers,” I sing quietly.
We move back into our proper positions. “What kind of flowers do you like?” Aimee asks Cody.
Cody licks his lips. “I’m not really a flower guy. How about losers get flowers?”
“Okay. That sounds good,” Aimee bubbles out sounding like a complete ditz.
“I’ll make them colorful for you. Roses, lilies, daises. I’ll send them all.” Cody smirks.
“Thank you for the thought,” she flirts, stepping back to the serve line.
Tossing it up, she serves and it lands perfectly in the middle between the guys. They didn’t expect that and it’s written on their faces.
One ace in the hole. Point for us.
This time they were a bit readier, and Nathan was there to bump it back. I set and Aimee jumps, hitting it over the net.
Point two.
We play a few minutes and they don’t score once, but we do. Twice.
“Are you letting us score?” I ask innocently with a devilish grin.
Nathan rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and shakes his head. That look, that intense adoration filled with lust is panty melting.
We play hard the next several points and soon it’s ten to ten. They realized we hustled them points ago and they got more serious, which makes us work harder. Back in high school, Aimee and I were a force to be reckoned with on the team. We were called the Abs show, short for our names. The people in the stands would hold signs and cheer us on. We had the best damn team. But after graduating, I never looked back. I haven’t even thought about playing until today and it’s made me realize just how much I missed it.
Nathan is up front. Cody positioned in the back. They’ve learned. It’s my turn to serve and I hit it. Then I run up front just as Cody sets it and Nathan slams it over the net. Jumping, it looks like I’m about to slam it back. Nathan quickly leaps to block it, but deception is such a beautiful thing. Instead of doing what he thinks I am, I dump it at his feet. Winking at him, I sashay my ass back to my teammate and slap a high five to her hand.
Now it’s twelve to fourteen, us in the lead. Funny thing about being a point away from the win is how hard the other team will scramble and fight harder. Cody serves it.
Aimee sets it. “Bang it!” she says as I leap to spike it with all my might.
It slices over the net, past Nathan’s hands, and hits the ground.
“Nectar, baby!” I scream, fist pumping the air and then slamming a hug into Aimee. “We’ve still got it!”
We turn, both of us flexing our muscles. “Welcome to the Abs show!” we yell in unison and then crack up.
Aimee winks to Cody. “I’ll make sure yours are colorful too.”
Nathan’s standing there with the ball between his arm and hip, grinning, his chest heaving. “Well played.”
“Regional champions for three years straight,” I triumphantly reply.
* * *
Holy shit, I hate myself. I am so sore I can barely walk. The trampoline park has nothing on the forces of volleyball. Work today is gruesome. My legs hurt to move and hurt to stand still. The muscles in my abdomen scream when I twist, walk, hell, even breathe. Back in high school, I could handle grueling practices and games, but now that I don’t have to, shit. Aimee feels the same way. She called me on the way to work this morning almost in tears. We laughed at how out of shape we were and whined at how badly it hurt to laugh.