Striking Deceit

Chapter One

Skylar Parish

September in Florida is just as hot as August. It stays in line with the summer months—we typically don’t begin to see relief until October, which is all fine and well.

Our volleyball season officially starts in September, and no one likes to be freezing in the sand. The further we get into the later months, the stiffer our gameplay is, but working up a sweat normally helps with that.

Dante is wrapping his knee from where he sits on our bench; Coach Myers is taking his sweet time talking with the first and second referees.

Everything is quiet for a moment.

Dante and I have been paired together all throughout junior and now senior year, which isn’t common for beach volleyball. On a roster of ten, you’re normally switched around at minimum yearly.

But Dante and I are the A-Team. Or at least that’s what Myers calls us, despite the envy of the other eight roster members.

We have incredible synchronization, unwavering communication, and instinct that makes excelling in each position and each skill appear seamless.

It’s as if we’re inside of each other’s heads whenever we step onto the sand.

Beach volleyball is a duals game—five teams play for your organization, or in our case, school. Of five teams, three have to win their match for our school, Sinclair Public College, to get the victory. The season typically runs from September to November, and we play two games a week.

Last year, Dante and I won twenty out of twenty-four games that we played together. Therefore, A-Team.

“Hey, dipshits. You ready to fuck over Clermont, or what?” Our assistant coach, Heidi, barrels over from wherever she was hiding during setup.

Her hair is pulled up into a tight bun; the bleached strands are gelled to her scalp meticulously. Only in her mid-thirties, Heidi tends to speak to us more casually than other school officials do. But then again, so does Myers, and he’s definitely older than his mid-thirties.

“We kicked their asses last year—what’s another win?” Dante is grinning at her as he speaks, now finished wrapping his knee and moving on to rolling out his ankles.

Heidi rolls her eyes. “Cockiness will be the downfall of those beloved stats, Dante.”

He just shrugs, directing those green eyes to where I stand in front of him. “Whatever. It’s our last year, Sky. We’ll only be Sinclair kings for a few more weeks. Tragic, right? I’m going to miss all the free pussy.”

“Jesus.” Heidi spins on her heel and struts off as I chuckle after her.

Pushing stray brown curls off my forehead, I grab a ball and head onto the sand, ready to warm up. Dante follows.

“I have no doubt you’ll be able to find plenty of willing women either way,” I tell him.

He snickers, using both hands to mess up my hair, making the curls even more unruly in a way he knows just pisses me off. “Aw, my sweet Sky. You have so much confidence in me.”

I groan, shoving his hands away. “I have so much confidence that I can kick your ass.”

“Boys! Stop kissing each other’s asses and warm up!” Coach Myers yells.

Dante flushes straight to his hairline as he readies himself by the net. “Alright, Skylar, let’s kick ass. And preferably not mine.”

Our given fifteen minutes are spent with Dante practicing his spike and me practicing my digs.

We begin to settle into our usual rhythm, getting our heads in the zone and warming our bodies under the hot sun.

I’m pretty sure it’s ninety degrees today.

I can feel the humidity in the air, wet and thick.

Once Clermont shows up, it’s their turn in the sand, so we give them the net. Ignoring their brutish glares, we make our way to our bench. I pay no mind as Dante gives them a wink and blows a not-so-subtle kiss.

I have no need to taunt; I’ll be wiping the floor with them soon enough.

I’m standing in front of our bench, taking a swig of my sports drink, as I feel sand hit the back of my calves.

A loud voice rings out, “Hey there, puppy.”

Turning at the sound of Everett’s voice, I do nothing as he takes my drink and swallows a large pull. He’s in a pair of swim trunks—the pink ones with little sailboats—his hair wet with what could be ocean water or could be sweat.

I sound bored as I say, “Hey, where’d you just come from?”

He hands my bottle back, his blond hair bright in the glaring sun. “I was surfing with Kelly. She’s in the stands with Henry.” He stares at me for a moment, having caught his breath, then looks over at the guys from Clermont. “Man, they fucking hate you guys. Won’t stop glaring.”

I shrug. “Sore losers, I suppose.”

“Want me to deck ‘em?”

Glaring at him, I shove his shoulder, making him chuckle as I reply, “You know perfectly well that I’m capable of fighting my own battles.”

“Come on! You never let me help. I’m so strong!” Everett is always doing this, trying to play macho man to stroke his own ego, even when he’s only two inches taller than me.

“You’re so damn annoying. Get off my sand; we’re starting soon.”

He grins even wider and reaches out a hand, tugging at my ear affectionately. “Fine, fine. Let’s go to the diner after your win, yeah?”

“Yeah—whatever. Go, Evie.” I push him away, hearing his laughter trail behind him as he jogs off to meet up with our friends.

Only a moment later, Dante comes up behind me. “Everett is as energetic as ever.”

“Annoyingly so. Come on, let’s play.”

Following Dante back onto the sand, I take a moment to search the rickety, collapsible bleachers. Everett is easy to find with his bright hair and wide shoulders, and he’s smiling right at me.

Idiot.

Everett has been my best friend since I moved to Sinclair when I was ten.

My family came from Texas, and as Sinclair is a smaller town, the kids didn’t take to new people at first. Evie, on the other hand, had no issues with me from the very beginning.

And from then on—after attempting to rescue me from a bully who found out the hard way that I am far more than all bark—we’ve been linked at the hip.

He’s a golden retriever in every aspect of the term; from his golden hair to his vibrant, sweet nature. I’ve come to love him the way I love all people close to me, even if he drives me nuts half the time. He’s my biggest supporter outside of my mother—and my closest confidant.

I can’t imagine my life without Everett, even if I frequently pretend that he makes daily life a lot harder than it should be. But if I were to tell him this, I’d never hear the end of it.

Dante and I win against Clermont. We secure the first set, and when they almost steal the second, Dante gives Sinclair a beautiful ace serve that throws everyone on their asses. Clermont is not happy; I wish I gave a fuck.

We’re the third duo representing SPC to win today, which means we’ve come out the victors of today’s team match.

“Those are my boys!” Heidi yells, grabbing Dante and me into a crushing hug as soon as we’re done shaking hands with Clermont under the net.

“Thanks, Granny.” Dante grins, earning himself a particularly hard smack on the back of his head.

“Now, do it again on Tuesday," Coach Myers huffs, giving us a wide smile, all teeth. His obsession with winning can be quite terrifying sometimes.

I break away, packing my duffel as beads of sweat trail down my bare back and into my shorts. Luckily, our team shorts only fall mid-thigh, and we don’t wear shoes in the sand, so I’m not overheating too badly in this damn sun.

Dante appears out of thin air, throwing a sweaty arm over my shoulders. “Let’s go eat to celebrate!”

“I told Evie we’d go to the diner.”

He groans dramatically, tightening his hold on me. “Man, can’t you hang out with me for once?!”

Rolling my eyes at him, I grab the handles of my duffel and the sneakers that are resting next to it. “Just come with us.”

“But Kelly doesn’t like me, dude. Not since I fucked that girl in her art club. They’ve started a Dante hate club, I swear.”

This makes me laugh, because I don’t think he’s that far off base with this one. “But—”

“Sky! You were great out there,” says the just-mentioned hate club president, skipping up to us with Henry and Everett in tow. She sends a glare in Dante’s direction.

“Yeah, dude, you were hot as hell out there.” Henry smiles, bright and lively. “Good thing my girlfriend wasn’t here. I would have had to blindfold her with all of those lean muscles on display.” He’s making some obscene gestures as he says this, wiggling his brows at me.

Everett makes a disapproving sound, smacking the back of Henry’s head.

“Next time, I’m blindfolding you,” he says, turning his smile onto me. “Ready to go?”

My favorite thing about Everett? No matter how many people are around, that gaze of his always tracks back to me.

The moment barely lasts, though, because soon he’s turning his attention toward Dante and saying, “Hey, man.”

“Hey, Everett. Nice to see you again,” Dante greets politely.

“Let’s go, Sky.” Kelly grabs my arm, pulling me away from Dante, his arm falling back to his side.

I give him a smirk, finding his groan quite entertaining. “Later, man, see you at practice.”

Dante waves, turning back to his stuff and getting caught up in another conversation with Coach Myers. Poor guy.

“So, Angie’s Diner, then?” Henry asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yep.” Everett grabs my duffel, slinging the long strap onto his shoulder.

I slip my sneakers on, falling into step between him and Kelly.

“Sky, you need a new teammate. That guy is a total horndog,” Kelly complains, her arm looping through the crook of my elbow as we head toward the parking lot.

“I’m pretty sure Evie has slept with more of the female population than Dante has,” I counter, at which Everett gasps in offense.

“But at least Everett is kind to them afterward! Dante ghosted Georgia like she was trash. Fucking dick,” she grumbles.

“His dick sure was fucking,” Henry jokes, earning another slap, this time from Kelly herself.