Chapter 15
Tilly
The sun is hanging low over the horizon, painting the beach in golden streaks that bounce off the waves.
The sand is warm under my feet, though somehow it still manages to sneak into every crevice and stick in the most irritating ways.
I love it.
I love the way the salt air smells, the gulls calling, and the faint buzz of the ocean mixing with the distant laughter of other beachgoers.
But what I love the most is playing volleyball with all of The Apartment again.
“Are you ready?” The coach's voice carries over the wind, just loud enough to get us moving.
“Born ready!” Matt yells, sprinting toward the net like his legs are fueled by lightning.
I grin, running after him, sand flying up in little clouds behind each step.
I don’t remember the last time we actually played together like this.
I missed this—the chaos, the noise, the constant joking, and the shared energy.
Playing with just girls was fun, sure, but nothing compared to this.
With Luca and Matt, everything feels… alive.
“You good?” Zara asks, sliding next to me during our break, and gives me a quick side hug.
“Yeah. I actually slept well last night,” I tell her, smiling softly.
Her eyebrows rise, suspicion painting her face. “Really? How long have you not been sleeping well?”
I almost choke on my own air, remembering that no one knows about my little nightly routine.
“Uh…I started my period a couple of days ago.” I lie quickly, holding my hands up as if surrendering.
It’s a terrible excuse.
I hate using a period as an excuse, and I know she doesn’t buy it, but it’s better than explaining my brain.
“Okay…” She frowns lightly, and I know I just dodged a bullet.
Little does she know, the truth is more complicated, but… nobody needs to know that.
Yana bounces on the balls of her feet, ponytail swinging like a pendulum. “Guys, why are we not smiling?! We are totally going to win this game.”
Her energy is infectious, and I can’t stop grinning as I adjust my stance in the sand.
There is something about watching her bounce around, completely unbothered by sand in her hair or sweat on her back, that makes me feel like everything is right.
“Promise, I’m fine,” I whisper to Zara, as we prepare for the serve. “Really.”
“Okay, I believe you,” she says, giving me a quick squeeze before stepping back.
The game starts.
The ball flies back and forth across the net, sand kicking up under our feet.
I dive, jump, and sprint in rhythm with everyone else, my lungs burning pleasantly, my arms streaked with sand.
Halfway through, we are up by two points.
I lunged for a tricky ball, skidding in the sand and leaving golden streaks across my legs.
The sting doesn’t even matter—I’m too busy laughing as Yana squeals, launching herself into a perfect pass to Luca.
He barely moves, smirking, and then bam—he sends the ball straight over the net with perfect timing.
“Nice one, Dreamer boy!” I yell, and he winks.
“Don’t jinx it!” Yana yells, hopping back into position, sand flying behind her like a glitter trail.
Matt’s shoe gets stuck mid-step, and he nearly face-plants; his arms fail as he tries to catch his balance.
“I meant to do that!” he shouts, sand flying into Luca’s hair, who only flicks it away with a barely visible groan.
“You’re horrible!” I laugh, doubling over, sand scratching my knees, but I can’t stop grinning.
“Completely unfair,” Luca says, pretending to be annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a way that screams he isn’t really.
Zara dives for a ball at the same time as I, and we collide with a soft thud, laughing hysterically. “Careful! You could have sand-blinded me!” she jokes.
Yana jogges over, holding a spare water bottle. “Hydrate Tills, you’re going to pass out if you don’t,” she says, smirking.
I grab a sip, the cool water tasting like tiny drops of heaven in the heat.
The points fly by.
We are shouting, laughing, and teasing each other constantly.
Matt keeps making ridiculous victory dances after every point he scores, and Yana pretends to roll her eyes but giggles every single time.
Luca’s smirk becomes a constant companion in my peripheral vision, and for some reason, I don’t actually want to complain about it.
I hate noticing the little things—how his sand-streaked hair sticks to his forehead.
How the corners of his lips curl when he is genuinely amused.
How his shoulders relax ever so slightly when we cheer together.
Damn it.
Near the end of the game, the timer is ticking down, five seconds left.
The other team sends a fast, low ball my way. I dive, palms scraping in the sand, and flick it toward Yana.
She leaps, catching it just in time and passing it to Luca.
With a strong, satisfying smack, he slams it over the net.
“Yes!” we all scream, hugging each other, causing the sand to grit against our bodies.
Matt immediately starts narrating like a sports commentator.
“And that’s the championship-winning point!”
After a few moments of sand-caked chaos, we start walking back toward the car, brushing off as best we can.
Luca sidles up beside me, a little smirk on his face.
“You look ridiculous,” he says, nodding at the sand still stuck to my arms.
“Thanks.”
“Last one to the car buys the next pizza!” Matt yells, already lurching forward with his ridiculously long legs.
“No way!” Yana screeches, catching up to him.
“Guys, slow down!” Zara shoves, tugging at her shorts to get the sand out. “You’re going to trip!”
I laugh and start running towards the car, a little competition starting between Luca and me.
“Watch the sand!” I yell, narrowly avoiding stepping on a rogue seashell.
“Too late!” he bellows, and immediately slips on a wet patch of sand, arms flailing like a cartoon character before landing in a half-roll that somehow still gets him back on his feet.
Yana, noticing his stumble, cackles, and I give him my hand.
“You good?”
“Yeah, but you totally pushed that shell towards me on purpose.” He grimaces.
“The world may never know.” I smile.
Zara groans, brushing sand from her hair.
By some miracle, we all make it to the car without breaking a bone, and I’m grateful for it, because Matt is overly dramatic with bones sticking out in the wrong direction.
Matt and Luca are still laughing like hyenas, Yana’s picking sand out of her ponytail, Zara shakes her head, half-smiling, and I just slump into the back seat, sand sticking to every patch of sweat on my skin.
I hate sand .
We drive home with the windows down, the breeze whipping through the car, carrying the scent of salt and sand.
Matt is narrating every single action we took on the beach like it is a professional sports broadcast.
When we finally reach our building, chaos hits a new level.
Luca grabs the door, holding it open as we all try to hustle in at once, tripping over shoes, tossing backpacks onto the floor, and shaking sand out of our hair.
“Careful, it’s slippery!” I shout.
Matt slides on the wet floor, and Yana joins him.
“Don’t worry!” she squeals.
Zara mutters something about “losing her mind” while I double over, laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
Finally, we collapse into the apartment, shedding shoes and jackets and still brushing sand off everything.
When Matt opens the pizza boxes, the smell hits us like a reward after battle, and our mouths water immediately.
“Alright,” Matt says, “let’s see what the champions deserve!”
We gather around the dinner table, trying to navigate the pizza boxes while avoiding sand that had sneaked onto literally every surface.
I grab a slice, hot cheese stretching dangerously as I pull it apart.
“Careful!” Yana laughs. “Don’t ruin the pizza with sand!”
“Too late!” Matt flicks a grain off his hand but accidentally flings a tiny sprinkle onto Zara’s slice.
“Matt!” she cries.
“I call it… sand seasoning! Very rare,” he said proudly.
Luca groans, rubbing his face as he grabs a slice. “You guys are gross,” he says, but his smirk betrays him.
I settle down beside him, trying not to get sand on my slice, or any other slice for that matter.
Yana passes me a soda.
“Thanks.”
Luca leans back beside me, arms crossed casually, watching the chaos with a faint grin. “I’m just saying,” he says slowly, “if anyone ever tries to steal our pizza, I’ve got this covered.”
I roll my eyes.
We spend the next half hour devouring pizza, joking, and laughing.
Matt tries sneaking an extra slice under the table.
Somewhere between laughing so hard we almost cry and the sugar from sodas kicking in, I feel myself get dunked in a pool of gratitude.
It’s a delirious feeling, a drug almost, the feeling of warmth.
I see a whole story in seconds, all the fun moments on repeat, and all I can think about is how lucky I am.
I hate everything about my life, but this group makes everything worth it.
The volleyball game reminded me how much I love it, and how lucky I am to get that as my job.
Everything I love in one career sounds like a dream, and it is.
My friends being my co-workers, traveling being all inclusive, and volleyball being the job is everything to me.
I glance at Luca, and for the first time in my life, I don’t see the catastrophe that could happen if anything does happen.
I don't feel bad for noticing his hair sticking up slightly from the wind.
I don’t get overwhelmed with worry about what could happen with our friendship.
He catches my gaze and smirks.
I can’t help but smile.
For the first time in my life, a maybe appears in my head.
Maybe.