Chapter 2
Leg day: Volleyball players must have both foundational strength and explosive power in their legs. Dead lifts, lunges, box jumps, Bulgarian split squats … there is all manner of torture to be found in the gym when it’s time to focus on legs.
“Oh, that’s…” Jess tried to swallow, mouth dry. “That’s Vivienne.” Of course. Of course Yellow wasn’t actually interested in her.
“And? Is she straight?” Yellow’s eyes were bright … eager.
Yes, Jess wanted to say. Totally straight.
Don’t bother. But … “I … I actually don’t know,” she replied truthfully.
Now into their second season together in the league, Jess had never seen Vivienne with a romantic partner, or even heard her talk about one.
Of course, Jess suspected, Vivienne’s heart was probably a series of gears, humming at peak efficiency and incapable of love. Jess took a big swallow of her beer.
“Oh.” Yellow shifted and stuck out her lower lip. “She’s hot.”
Keeping her expression polite and noncommittal, Jess clutched her bottle and pondered her choices—return to shark-infested waters, or stay there getting battered by the tide.
“’Kay, well … I’ve gotta…” Jess pointed vaguely with her beer and hauled anchor.
She abandoned Yellow and swam back to the sharks, cheeks burning in humiliation.
All she wanted to do was sit and drink her beer and try to salvage whatever dignity she had remaining.
But as she approached their table, Vivienne stood.
Their eyes met. Her face was soft for a moment, unguarded, then Lee stood behind her and whispered into her ear.
Vivienne curled her mouth in amusement as her gaze swept up and down Jess’s body.
Jess faltered for half a second, then took a sharp turn toward the bathrooms. Nope. There was no dignity to be found here tonight. She left her beer on a ledge and went out the back door.
Mercifully, Jess’s tiny apartment was only three blocks from the beach.
And “tiny” was not an exaggeration—the only reason she could afford to live within walking distance of the tourist hub, the home of both her jobs, was that the building used to be a motel, and her apartment was an actual ex-motel room …
fortunately free of seedy motel-room classics, like suspicious stains on the walls or a lingering smell of cigarette smoke.
And if she stood at her one big window and craned her neck, she could catch a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean.
Bright white walls reflected the California sunlight, and every inch was covered in plants, woven wall hangings Tía Diana had made for her, beachy knickknacks, and an odd mix of romance and astronomy books, plus a telescope in the corner that she carried up to the roof on clear nights.
Aside from a volleyball court, her apartment was her favorite place in the world.
A safe retreat from the struggles of life.
One of the best parts about living there was taking her morning tea out onto the covered walkway outside her door and sitting in a metal chair from Goodwill—the ornate kind you might find in a Parisian café, aside from the flaking white paint.
She would cradle her mug and smell the ocean while the sun crept toward her feet—the sunshine she had craved her whole life.
Born in Seattle, she grew up in rainy Vancouver, British Columbia, a dual citizen, thanks to an American mom and a Canadian dad.
Desperate to escape the rain by the end of high school, Jess went to USC on a volleyball scholarship while earning a degree in sports management, then captured a spot in the SoCal VL after graduation.
It was an amateur league but provided a stipend, so between that and the amusement park, she was able to make the perfect motel apartment only three blocks from the sun-soaked beach a reality …
without relying on her parents for financial support.
Jess trudged up the steps to the second floor, but before she could retreat to her cocoon and nurse her bruised ego, she had to pick up Fleming. She knocked on her neighbor’s door. It cracked open and a wriggling short-haired dachshund threw himself at her legs.
“Hi, baby, did you miss me?” Jess cooed, scooping him up.
A handsome bald Black man followed the dog. “A little, but I got through it okay.” Nelson leaned against his doorframe, pulling his silk robe tight.
“Oh, stop it.” Jess burrowed her face into Fleming’s fur. It was impossible to be sad or angry with the sweetest pup in history in her arms.
Nelson pulled a tube of lip gloss from his pocket and applied a shimmer to his lips as he spoke. “Your little baby there wouldn’t stop growling at my gentleman caller.”
“Hmm. Maybe Fleming is getting a bad vibe. Might be best to let that one go.”
The wiener panted his agreement.
Nelson scratched the dog’s head. “Fleming growls at everyone and licks his own crotch. What does he know? Also, I got you some of that eye cream I was telling you about.” He fished in his other pocket.
“Nelson, I don’t—”
He held up the jar. “Girl, let me tell you. You are out in the sun all day and you won’t be twenty-five forever.”
“I’m twenty-four.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I rest my case.”
“Oh, give me the fucking cream.”
Nelson grinned and handed it to her. “Add it to my bill.”
Jess leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”
“I know. See you tomorrow.”
Nelson, a computer whiz of some sort who worked from home, refused money of any kind for helping out with Fleming, but accepted banana bread and cookies when Jess delivered them fresh from the oven.
The day Jess came home with Fleming, shortly after she moved in, Nelson had scooped him up and declared him the best boy in the entire world, and they had been friends ever since.
Jess set Fleming down and he trotted behind her on their way to their apartment.
She hung up her keys and bag by the door, then went over to a shelf by the window. She took a seashell out of the “win” jar and put it into the “loss” jar. “Another one,” she sighed. The season started with sixty shells in the “win” jar. Six weeks in and already ten losses out of thirteen matches.
Fleming settled into his dog bed and looked up at her with big eyes.
“I know,” Jess replied. “Just gotta keep going.”
On that note, she retrieved her phone from her bag so she could confirm a workout with Tania for tomorrow and discovered she had actually missed a text from her partner over an hour ago. Workout tomorrow? Tania had asked.
You bet. 10:00?
Tania’s reply came right away. Yup, see you then.
How was the rest of your day?
Good. George and I went to the market. Got some of those peaches you were raving about. You? Tania was straight and lived with her boyfriend, but Jess tried not to hold that against her. George was a decent guy anyway—a chef at a fancy French restaurant who loved to cook at home for Tania, too.
Fine, Jess replied. Work wasn’t too busy. She left out the part about how the woman she was checking out bypassed her plain looks and big nose for Vivienne instead. See you tomorrow!
Jess changed from her jean shorts and tank top into thin cotton pajama bottoms and a camisole.
She spread her long legs out on the one bit of floor space where she fit—ignoring the fact that half her leg was under the bed and at least one pile of books got knocked over in the process—and did a few quick stretches, then she made a cup of tea and curled up in bed with a book.
Her current read was Queen in Shining Armor, a steamy sapphic romance by her favorite author, Veronica Doyle.
Queen Andromeda, unhappy and trapped in her royal life, disguised herself as a knight and ran off to battle, but upon spotting the queen of the enemy country, fell instantly in love.
Jess envied Queen Andromeda, so confident in herself that she would risk it all after only a glimpse of what she wanted.
Veronica Doyle had the best main characters—Jess’s gay realization had come courtesy of Cleo, the protagonist of Constellation Prize, the first Veronica Doyle book she’d ever read.
Cleo was swoon-worthy: a tough but kind adventurer who learned magic to explore the stars.
Jess, sweaty after already jogging four miles, arrived at the pavilion the next morning. She found Tania in the gym doing weighted squats. It was leg day.
“Hey, Button,” Tania said on an exhale.
“Hey.” Jess refilled her water bottle at the fountain.
“How was your run?”
“Painful.” Jess hated everything about running, except the feeling of it ending, which was enough to keep her going. “You’re early.” It was more a question than a statement. Tania was not a morning person.
“I had to get out of there. George suddenly wanted to reorganize the garage. You know men once they get a house project in mind.”
Jess took another drink. “Not really.”
“Oh, right.” Tania racked her weight and shook her legs out. “My bad. So … we play that team from North Bay on Wednesday.”
“Yup.” They played Sunside pairs most of the time, but teams sometimes traveled between North Bay and Horn Beach.
There were no VL matches Mondays or Tuesdays, and then usually one Wednesday or Thursday night, and another one, maybe two, on the weekend.
“They’re off to a bumpy start too, so we really need to capitalize and get this win. ”
Tania stretched her quads. “Both of them are huge, bigger than you. Chrissy said we want to serve to Reese, the blonde one.”
They chitchatted about their game plan as Jess began her workout. She was just getting into a rhythm when they were joined by another team in the gym. The last team Jess wanted to see.
Vivienne and Lee strode in like they owned the place.
Jess shared a look with Tania. Well, fuck. Their Monday-morning-workout routine had been going so well.