Thirty-Five
I’m beginning to regret every choice that led me to volunteer for this family volleyball game. Right now, I’m slogging through warm sand while Sienna’s dad, Tim, waves me over like I’m about to be drafted into a war.
“Hey, Nathan!”
Tim calls, shading his eyes with one hand. He’s decked out in a bright Hawaiian shirt—pineapples and all—and a pair of board shorts that seem to have survived the Reagan years. “You’re with me, son. We’re taking on Jeremy and Daniel.”
Beside him, Jeremy snorts while bouncing a volleyball between his palms. “Careful, Dad. I don’t think Daniel’s going to go easy on the new guy.”
Sienna is planted on a lounger a few feet away. I catch sight of her long legs draped in a towel, phone in hand. It’s midday, and the sun is blazing. The ocean whispers nearby, and an assembly of extended family and wedding guests is scattered around. Some are tucked under umbrellas, some wading in the shallows, others laughing with fruity drinks in hand.
This should be a simple game. It should.
“Don’t worry,”
I say to Jeremy, forcing a grin that feels more like a grimace. “I’m up for a challenge.”
Meanwhile, Daniel, standing just behind Jeremy, sizes me up with a half-smile that barely conceals his irritation. Sienna’s ex has been watching me since I arrived.
It’s best to let him stew.
I brush sand from my swim trunks and follow Tim to the makeshift court they’ve outlined in the sand. A small crowd forms a loose semicircle, drinks in hand, ready for this showdown. The family patriarch and a random boyfriend against Sienna’s brother and her ex. The stakes are sky-high in absurdity.
Before we begin, Tim leans in, grinning conspiratorially. “We gotta show these boys who’s boss, right?”
He slaps the volleyball into my chest, nearly knocking the air out of me. “You serve first.”
I raise an eyebrow about to reply, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Sienna. She’s pulling off her thin cover-up in what I swear is slow motion, revealing a bikini that might be devilishly provocative. My breath gets lodged in my throat as her golden skin glistens under the sun, and her curves threaten to upend my self-control.
“Hey, Nathan,”
Jeremy calls me out. “Eye on the game. Or at least take your eyes off my sister for five minutes.”
His tone tries to mask a warning, and I notice Daniel stiffen, his eyes burning with a challenge. I’m not the only one who can’t look away.
I feel the corner of my mouth curl into a smirk. “I can multitask. One eye on the game, one on Sienna.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes before gesturing to me. “Let’s do this.”
I step up to the makeshift boundary line. My heart pounds, but it has little to do with the game. She’s over there, a goddess in a bikini. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate on anything else?
Fuck it.
I toss the ball up, snap my wrist, and send a decent serve over the net.
The game is on.
Tim, who might look like a dad who’s just discovered texting emojis, transforms into a force on the sand. He leaps for a spike, grinning like a kid, while Jeremy dives for every save and cackles when Daniel sets up a brutal shot. The beachside audience provides a backdrop of laughter and cheers.
An aunt hollers, “Strategy, Tim, strategy!”
and an older cousin jots down the score on a notepad.
Sienna watches from her lounger, smiling with her arms folded over her bikini top. I can practically feel her gaze scorching my back.
We rally several times. Jeremy sets the ball, Daniel spikes. I lunge, passing it off to Tim, who smacks it back over the net. The crowd erupts with each near miss and narrow lead.
Finally, Tim shouts, “That’s what I’m talking about!”
as he slaps my back. “Keep it up, Nathan!”
Daniel sets the ball again, his brow furrowing as he meets my eyes.
“Not bad,”
he says in a voice that’s as much a challenge as a compliment.
We serve again, and I scramble to make a save, half-eating sand in the process. The crowd’s cheers swell as I barely manage it. One last shot glances off Daniel’s arm, sealing the victory for that round.
We pause for a water break, the afternoon sun beating off my back. Tim throws the ball at Daniel’s chest. “Another game?”
Daniel bounces the ball with a half-smile. “Let’s mix it up.”
A fresh voice pipes up. It’s Grace, emerging from a quick dip in the surf. With a beach wrap draped casually around her hips and a glow that only a bride-to-be can muster, she proposes, “What if we do Bride’s team vs. Groom’s team? Tradition, right? Bride’s side battles Groom’s side.”
Tim snorts. “All right, but if I’m on the groom’s side, that means Jeremy’s with me. Unless Jeremy’s with the bride? Wait, Sienna, get over here!”
he yells, beckoning her.
Sienna, holding a fruit punch on her lounger, stands with an expression of incredulity. “Why am I being summoned? I’m not the bride.”
Grace sidles up and hooks an arm through Sienna’s. “But you’re practically my sister now, so you’re on my team.”
Jeremy crosses his arms. “Hey, she’s actually my sister. Why isn’t she on my team?”
“She’s about to be my sister-in-law, so that trumps your sibling claim. Plus, I need her near me. We’re doing a boys vs. girls spin.”
She calls for Lauren and another member of her bridal team.
Sienna shrugs. “Sorry, Jer. Team Grace from now on.”
Behind me, Daniel tosses the ball between his hands. “Alright, so the bride’s side is the ladies, groom’s side is the men. That means me, Jeremy, Tim—”
He glances at me, voice tight. “And presumably you, Nathan?”
My name on his lips carries a note of challenge, but this feels like a family affair.
Just as I’m considering standing on the sidelines, Jeremy grabs my arm, panic etched on his face. “Wait, you’re not bailing, are you? If Sienna’s playing, we need you, man.”
I blink. “Need me? Why?”
He huffs, glancing at Sienna as she picks up a second volleyball and starts spinning it in her fingers.
“Because Sienna is savage,”
Jeremy says. “You have no idea. We need extra protection.”
My gaze flicks back to her.
She cocks her hip. “Hope you brought your A-game, Calloway,”
she teases loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’ve been playing amateurs up until now.”
Something in my chest tightens. It’s equal parts alarm and excitement. I brush sand off my trunks and step forward. “Game on, baby.”
The match resumes. First serve, and Grace tosses the ball underhand, Tim bumps it to Jeremy, who sets me up for a spike. I manage to send it hurtling over as the bride’s side shrieks, with Sienna diving in vain. A small cheer breaks out among the spectators.
Next volley and Sienna serves with surprising power, the ball slicing through the air. I pull off a half-desperate pass to Daniel, who sets it to Jeremy. Sienna leaps, intercepting the return with an impressive block. The crowd hollers.
Standing there with hands on her hips, breathing hard, she casts a silent told-you-so glance in my direction.
I can’t help but grin. “Not bad.”
She lobs the ball back with all the confidence in the world. “Try returning that next time.”
We keep going. The bride’s team, led by Sienna and backed by Grace, seems unstoppable. Tim tries to marshal us like a seasoned coach, but we’re barely keeping pace with Sienna’s kill shots.
The match is a blur of insults, quick saves with Daniel muttering “Heads up!”
when Sienna winds for a spike, Jeremy hollering “Duck!”
when Grace flails at a pass, and random commentary from a wedding cousin acting like a sports announcer.
At one point, Sienna jumps for a spike, and I leap to block. Our bodies collide midair. She sends the ball skittering out of bounds, and I end up on my back in the sand. She laughs before offering me a hand up. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest rising in quick pants, and for a split second, I’m completely off-balance.
Fuck.
Behind her, Grace crows, “Another point for the bride’s team!”
Daniel frowns, arms crossed, clearly one volley away from erupting. I steady myself, exhaling slowly. Just a game, right?
Eventually, we reach match point, with the bride’s team holding a narrow lead. Sienna smirks, ball in hand, as Tim gestures for me to step forward. “We can’t let them take us out like this. Nathan, you up front.”
Sienna fixes me with a lethal look as she tosses the ball into the air, jumps, and nails a serve that barely clears. I manage a desperate pass, sweat pouring down my temple, and another quick rally ensues. Bump, set, spike. At the final moment, Sienna leaps again; the ball ricochets off my forearm, but it’s no use. The bride’s side wins.
The cheers erupt. Grace jumps into the arms of a bridesmaid while Sienna double-high-fives her teammates. On the groom’s side, groans mix with the sound of sweat wiping.
Panting, I run a hand through my hair and steal a glance at Sienna. She’s radiant, eyes sparkling, a smile on her face. For a fleeting moment, our gazes lock, and the air between us sizzles with the same tension that’s haunted us all day. Her lips quirk in triumph.
Good game, indeed.
As the bride’s team disperses, Tim jogs over and claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, son,”
he jokes. “She might be pint-sized, but that girl’s a killer on the sand.”
No shit.
Jeremy leans in with a cackling laugh. “Told you we needed your help. You put up a good fight.”
Daniel stands off to the side. He gives me a grudging nod. “Nice try,”
he manages before turning to catch up with Lauren.
He’s still got a face I’d like to punch.
Across the line, Sienna chats with Grace. When she notices me watching, she arches a brow and gives me a small, victorious smirk before turning back to her conversation, leaving no doubt that she’s not about to let this win slip away.
I exhale and grab a bottle of water before I look down at the line drawn in the sand. It’s a boundary, ironic and inevitable.
One look at Sienna, and I finish the water, press my feet into the drawn line, and cross it.