Chapter 22. The Heroic Seagulls Saved the Day
CHAPTER 22
The Heroic Seagulls Saved the Day
Rob went to check out the waves after breakfast, so I—followed by Alec—wandered over to the pool and found two vacant chairs near the deep end. Draping my towel on one, I slipped out of my T-shirt, trying not to feel self-conscious in my bright-red bikini, aware that his eyes were tracking my every movement.
“I’m going for a swim,” I announced. “See you later.”
“I’ll join you.” Alec peeled off his own T-shirt and shorts, tossing them on the lounge chair next to mine. His navy swimming trunks hugged his lower body, sending my treacherous eyes to his mouthwatering abs, and the tantalizing V pointing toward body parts that I probably definitely should NOT be thinking about.
Nope, not going to ogle admire look at him. Eyes straight ahead.
Steeled with determination, I removed my pump, then strolled to the edge of the pool and went in, pretending not to notice that he slipped in next to me. He was blissfully unaware that several pairs of eyes were watching him with keen interest. On the other hand, I was very aware of how close he was, and how there was nothing separating us but water gently lapping between our bodies.
I mentally roundhouse-kicked myself and concentrated on doing a few laps across the pool. After ten laps, I took a break, resting my head on the edge. The water was nice, and the sun shone bright, warming my face.
Alec came up next to me a few minutes later, mirroring my position. Ignoring him, I closed my eyes, enjoying the cool water, and the chatter and laughter of people around us.
“Ellie?”
Too bad I couldn’t pretend to be asleep. “What.”
There was a long pause before he replied, “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t reply.
“For the other night,” he continued. I could sense him drifting closer. “I was being inappropriate, and I promise it will never happen again.”
I’d be lying if I said a huge part of me wasn’t disappointed in hearing that.
“Come on, Ellie. Tell me how I can make it up to you. Please?”
“There’s nothing you can do,” I said, turning to face him. He stared at me, his eyes gentle and pleading. I had to escape him right now , because if he kept looking at me like that, I’d lose that last ounce of my pathetic, nonexistent willpower. “I’ve moved on, and we’re never going to talk about what happened that night. Ever. Is that clear?”
Without waiting for him to answer, I hauled myself out of the pool. Stalking toward our chairs, I was determined not to look back and see if he was following me. But when I finally got to the chair and reached for my towel, I made the dreadful mistake of glancing back.
Alec was having a James Bond moment, emerging glistening and wet from the pool, his navy trunks dripping with water and hotness. In fact, he looked so damn sexy, Bond had nothing on Mackenzie. I swore I could even hear a sharp intake of breath from the open-mouthed lady sitting way across the other end of the pool.
That’s it. I had to get away.
Without waiting for him, I wrapped my towel around my waist and stalked off.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape him for too long. We sat at the same table for lunch, and I spent the entire time making small talk with Jacqui while trying not to be distracted by the occasional hand rub and quick kisses on the cheek from Alec. He’d smoothly slipped back into his doting boyfriend role, trying to show affection for Jacqui’s benefit. But it was sending confusing signals to my brain, causing the cells to go haywire, and thoroughly befuddling my heart.
Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.
When lunch was over, we all made our way down to the beach, where Carmel stood with a clipboard, flanked by two other women wearing ocean-blue shirts emblazoned with the GPG logo. She blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention, then rattled off the rules of the competition. Three games, with a grand prize of five thousand dollars for the winning team, and the supposedly highly coveted Goodwin Games trophy.
That was a lot of money that could help my cash flow at the bakery.
First up—making sandcastles. My last encounter with sandcastles was when my age was still in the single digits. My mother hated sand, because it got everywhere, and she always complained that she didn’t have time to take us to the beach and clean up the mess afterward.
We were split into teams of four, with ten teams in total. Jacqui, Carmel, and the other two women stood on the sidelines as judges. Rob, Alec, and I were in the same group with a redhead named Marisa, who’d introduced herself as GPG’s marketing manager.
The minute Carmel finished distributing the buckets, shovels, and trowels, mayhem ensued. We only had one hour, so everyone jostled to find the best possible site for their group’s masterpiece, eager to construct the finest sand structure ever known to mankind. Alec and Rob had already claimed our spot, busy laying the foundation, while Marisa and I raced to the water to fill up our buckets.
When the hour was up, Carmel blew her whistle again, signaling us to put down our tools. One team had made a replica of the Sydney Opera House, with lumps of what were supposed to be koalas in front. Another group had built a literal sandcastle, with moats and turrets and flags, big enough to comfortably sit four people inside it. My favorite was a team that had constructed a collection of sea creatures—whales, turtles, dolphins, plus one lone mermaid.
Jacqui stopped to inspect our group last, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. We’d created a structure resembling a small city, with tall skyscrapers, houses, and a construction site at one corner. Alec had come up with the idea, and he was grinning from ear to ear, looking pleased with himself.
“I love this.” She beamed at the four of us. “Sticking to the spirit of the company. I’m awarding you the first place. Fantastic effort, everyone.”
Our team cheered as Carmel announced that we were leading with a score of fifty points.
Next, the relay races. Alec and Rob stood at one end, while Marisa and I were at the other end. The second Carmel blew her whistle, Marisa took off, only skidding to a halt inches away from Rob. He grabbed the blue-colored baton from her, sprinted, and practically threw it at me. I did my almighty best to pass it to Alec, but it wasn’t easy to run barefoot in soft sand. Alec made the final dash, but his superhuman effort still couldn’t win us the game—we came second, after a team of tall, lithe twenty-somethings who were already cheering and hugging each other by the time Alec crossed the finish line.
That put us in a tie for first place, with a score of ninety points. After a quick fifteen-minute break, it was time for the last game.
“There are things you absolutely can’t do in dodgeball,” Carmel announced through her bullhorn. “You can’t smack, spike, kick, or catch a ball. You should aim for below the shoulders. The first team to lose all their players will be eliminated.”
Cheers erupted as the first two teams shuffled to the makeshift court. The game began, fast and hard. Everyone focused all their energy into destroying their opponents, and the balls flew sharper and harder as team after team went down. The game had recorded at least five minor casualties so far—sprained ankles, shoulder injuries, and one bloody nose.
We started easy, defeating a few teams without difficulty, and got into the final round. Our team was up against four muscly guys who looked like they ate two dozen eggs every morning for breakfast and wrestled professionally for a living.
Rob tossed the ball back and forth in his hands. “Listen up, y’all. If we win this round, that five grand is ours. We can do it, people. Who’s with me?”
“I’m not too sure about this.” Marisa grimaced as she glanced at the opposing team. “Have you seen who we’re up against? Their arms are bigger than my whole body. They’re the most competitive guys in the entire company. We’re doomed.”
“We’re not,” Rob said, looking dead serious. “They might be bigger than us, but we can be faster. So, same strategy as before. We’ll go after the biggest guy first, that one in the white T-shirt. Just aim your ball at him, find a time when he’s distracted. Remember, throw with one hand and aim below the neck so you don’t hit their heads. Don’t do straight shots and try to throw cross-court. Fake your throws.”
I gave him a blank look. “Do you do this for a living? I thought you were a builder.”
Rob grinned. “I’ve practically been playing this since I started walking. I have five older siblings, Ellie. I dodged things to survive.”
Carmel and her whistle pierced the air again, and we took our positions. I fired up the first serve, pretending to aim for a tall guy standing in front of his teammates. Then, as I tossed, I curved the ball to the big guy in the white T-shirt. He dodged it at the last second, and the guy behind him picked it up, firing it back at Marisa, who jumped out of the way.
Alec scooped the ball and lobbed it at Tall Guy. It hit him, and he walked off the court with a loud groan. Marisa was the next to go, then another guy from the opposing team.
Two down, two to go.
Big Guy in White took possession of the ball, watching us from across the court as he bounced the ball in his hand, probably assessing which one of us would be the easiest to eliminate first. The next thing I knew, he pitched the ball toward me, and it whizzed at lightning speed in my direction. My brain froze, stripping me of the ability to react and protect myself, and for a few beats I thought—no, I knew, for sure —that the ball was going to hit me.
Because it was heading, in super slo-mo, straight toward my face.
I realized I needed to move, that if I remained where I was still standing, the ball was going to clobber me in the face, and I’d be eliminated. Which wasn’t ideal, because the aim was to win, wasn’t it? The aim wasn’t to get intimately acquainted with a bright-red rubber ball, or worse, developing a bruise on my face because of high-impact contact with said ball.
But it took longer than a few seconds for my brain to thaw and the gears to properly turn, because I was still rooted at the same spot, even though the ball was less than three feet away from my face. I had probably two, maybe three seconds to jump into action, to move my feet and avoid becoming the next eliminated player. To avoid sustaining serious injuries to my nose, my jaw, and my eyes.
That was when a blur of black suddenly flew in front of me, shielding me from the incoming onslaught of the ball. The next second, a loud thwack reverberated in the air, and four things happened at once:
A raucous cheer from the opposing team,
A loud roar from Rob, followed by his angry, “ What the fuck?! ”,
A long whistle to signal the temporary pause of the game, and
Alec going down like a sack of potatoes.
I gaped at him, his body slumping at my feet, his face firmly planted in the sand, as my brain raced to catch up with the latest events.
Alec jumped in front of me and got clobbered in the face with the ball.
Because he was trying to save me.
Sure, it wasn’t a life-or-death situation, but this man had made a split-second decision to intentionally place himself in harm’s way to stop me from getting hurt. He was willing to be hit in the face, which could potentially break his nose, or his jaw, or split his lip, for me.
Rob and Marisa rushed over, snapping me out of my daze, and I quickly crouched down to check on him.
“Alec?” He hadn’t moved, and a sliver of panic gripped me. “Are you okay?”
A few seconds passed, and my panic was about to skyrocket when he finally groaned. Relief washed over me when he rolled over. There was an angry red spot on his left cheek where the ball must have made impact, but other than that, he seemed fine. No blood, his nose wasn’t broken, and his eyes weren’t swollen. I made a move to sit him up, but Rob stopped me.
“Don’t move him yet,” Rob said. “Just in case he has a concussion or a neck injury.”
The panic came back, more urgent than before. A concussion? What if Alec sustained a life-threatening concussion because he was trying to save me ?
“I’m okay,” Alec said. “It’s just my cheek. My head’s fine.”
Another shrill whistle pierced the air, and Carmel announced that Big Guy in White was out of the game for hitting an opponent in the face. She ignored his protests, as Rob and I helped Alec to stand up.
I peered into his eyes, worry gnawing at my insides. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, really.” He gave me a smile. “He didn’t hit you, and that’s all that matters.”
And that was when it struck me. A realization so overwhelming, as if I were about to drown in the ocean behind me, the splashing waves refusing to let go until I gave in and acknowledged it.
That I was in love with this man.
One of the women in the blue shirts came and handed Alec a bag of ice and ushered him to the side of the makeshift court. She was talking to him in a low voice, checking that he was okay, asking whether he wanted to see a doctor.
“He’s okay,” Rob said, as Carmel blew her whistle again, resuming the game. “All the more reason we need to win this. For him.”
I nodded and got into a ready position, adrenaline rushing through my body. Rob pitched the ball across the court to our last opponent, missing him by an inch. He picked it up and hurled it back at us, too fast and too hard, hitting Rob in the foot.
He gave me a fist bump. “Do us proud, E. No pressure, but remember, five thousand dollars. Do it for Alec.”
And then it was just me against a tall, fit, towering monster of a man on the opposite court. I glanced at Alec, who was sitting courtside next to Rob and Marisa, the ice pack still on his cheek. He flashed me a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Go get him.”
The ball suddenly came flying at me, and I ducked just in time. I grabbed it and made a deliberate gesture of aiming it at my opponent, but missed him by mere inches.
The ball was now in his court.
He was taking his time, being dramatic about aiming it at me. I did a little jog on the spot, priming myself for a quick dodge. My opponent suddenly raised his hand and pitched the ball across the court. It whizzed straight toward my legs, and I dodged it within an inch of my life. Grabbing the ball, I walked to the middle and narrowed my eyes at him. He grinned at me, making taunting “come on” gestures with his hands.
That was when a colony of seagulls saved the day.
The birds cawed loudly as they flew above us. The next thing I knew, generous amounts of white droppings rained down on my opponent, perfectly landing on his face. Chuckles and disgusted groans echoed from the spectators as he swore and looked up at the offending birds.
Seizing the moment, I flung the ball across as hard as I could, hitting him squarely in the chest. Disappointed cries erupted from his supporters, while earsplitting cheers exploded from ours. Alec was the first one to rush to the court and hug me, lifting and twirling me with glee.
“You were amazing.” He grinned and bent down to brush my mouth with a quick kiss, lingering for a little longer than he needed to.
Before I could process what just happened, Rob and Marisa engulfed me with hugs, and all my thoughts were swallowed by the whoops and cheers from the crowd.