I don’t know who I’m becoming, but I’m not sure I like it. I doubt it really has anything to do with the birth control, but it feels good to have something to blame.
Samson has been gone most of the day. Sara and I spent time without him and Marcos on the beach. It’s past time for dinner and we’re hungry, so we start packing up just as three guys begin to set up a volleyball net on the beach between our house and Samson’s. When Sara and I drop our chairs in the storage compartment on the stilt level, I look back at them.
There’s a weird pinch in my chest, like volleyball is something I miss.
I never thought that would happen.
“I’m going to ask if I can play with them,” I say. “You want to play?”
Sara shakes her head. “I want to shower. I have sand in my crack.” She heads for the stairs. “Have fun, though. Kick some ass.”
When I reach the guys, they’re just about to start a game of one-on-one.
One of them is sitting on the invisible sideline while the other two are in position to start their game. “Hey,” I say, interrupting them. All three of them turn and look at me. Now that I’m closer, I’m a little bit intimidated. I might make a fool of myself now that I’ve seen the size of these guys. “Need one more?”
The three of them look at each other. There’s a smirk on the tallest one’s face when he says, “You sure about that?”
The smirk annoys me. “Yeah. I’ll even make it fair and team up with the worst one out of the three of you.”
They laugh. Then two of them point to the guy still sitting down. “He’s the worst out of the three of us.”
The guy in the sand concurs, “It’s true. I suck.”
“Great. Let’s play.” P.J. is standing next to me, so I walk him over to a spot where he’ll be out of the way and tell him to sit.
The guys introduce themselves to me before we start. The one on my team is named Joe. The tallest one is Topher and the other one is Walker. Walker serves the ball right to me and I easily bump it over the net.
Walker sets the ball for Topher and he attempts to spike it right at me. Before he knows it, I’m up at the net successfully blocking it.
“Impressive,” Topher mutters after I get my first point.
I get three hits in before Joe even touches the volleyball.
I haven’t worked out in a while, so I notice myself getting winded quicker than I normally would. I’ll blame that on the birth control, too. And the sand. I’ve never played on sand before.
They score two more points before Joe and I finally side-out. I’m about to serve the ball when I see Samson standing on his balcony.
He’s staring down at me, watching us. I wave, but he doesn’t wave back.
Is he jealous?
He pushes off the balcony and walks back inside his house.
What the hell?
It actually pisses me off. Samson knows I play volleyball. I should be able to play an innocent game of volleyball without him assuming I’m flirting with any of these three guys.
My anger fuels my serve and I hit the ball harder than I mean to. Luckily, it’s in, landing right on the line.
This is what I was worried about. The more time I spend with Samson, pieces of him might come to light that I don’t necessarily like. Jealousy is definitely something I don’t like.
We finish a short rally before I steal a glance at his balcony. He still hasn’t come back out.
I put all my anger and energy into the game. I lunge for the volleyball and fall to my knees. I fall three more times before Joe even touches the ball again. I’m going to be the color of an eggplant by the end of this game.
We score a point on them and tie it up four to four. Joe walks over and high-fives me. “This might be the first game I ever win,” he says.
I laugh at him, but my smile fades when I see Samson walking down his stairs. If he comes over here and makes a scene, I’m going to be so angry.
He is. He’s coming this way.
And he’s carrying a…chair.
“Heads up,” Joe yells. I look up and see the ball flying at me, just barely out of reach. I go for the dig and receive a mouthful of sand when I hit the ground, unintentionally shanking the ball.
“Get up, Beyah!” I hear Samson yell.
I jump to my feet and look in his direction. He’s walking over to us, holding his chair. He drops it in the sand next to P.J. about five feet from the net and takes a seat in it, sliding his sunglasses from his eyes to his head. Then he cups his hands around his mouth. “Go, Beyah!” he yells.