“Nice shorts.”
He glances down, and I give myself a mental facepalm. Nice shorts? Did those words really just leave my mouth?
Mortified, I do the only thing I can think of and join him in admiring the tiny pink birds embroidered on his swim trunks.His very snug swim trunks. Trunks that hang low on his narrow hips, hinting at the possibility of an imminent wardrobe malfunction.
He rakes a hand through his hair, and the edge of his t-shirt rides up, showcasing a swath of golden-brown skin and the most glorious Adonis belt I’ve ever seen.
My mouth goes bone dry. I should look away, but it’s so not happening. I’ve never seen V-cut abs in real life, and trust me when I say pictures don’t do them justice.
“Checking out the competition?” Lexie asks. “Smart, but totally unnecessary.” She points to the guy hugging the tree. “That one can barely stand.”
Gym Bro shoots her a dark look. I open my mouth to apologize—no point antagonizing the competition—but Camila appears at my side, and I clamp my lips shut.
“Good luck,” she says, beaming as she shoves a jiggly yellow blob into my hands.
The balloon wiggles, nearly sliding from my grasp, and adrenaline floods my system. Water balloons are delicate, and this one is filled near to bursting. One wrong move is all it’ll take to make the little bugger explode.
I tear my gaze from the balloon just long enough to catch Lexie’s eye. “You and Kayla should take this one. You played softball. You’ll be much better at throwing and catching than I am.”
Plus, she’s got a competitive streak a mile wide, and I do not want to be the reason we lose.
Hard pass.
She plucks the balloon from my hands, cupping it easily in her palm as she extends her arm, creating the required distance between herself and Kayla. “Let’s kick some ass.”
I shake my head in wonder. “Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?”
Lexie bounces on the balls of her feet, the balloon swaying dangerously. “I’ve got to get my game face on. No way am I losing to a bunch of drunk frat bros.”
“How do you know they’re frat bros?” I sneak a glance at Flamingo Boy, watching shamelessly as he dusts off his shorts. “For all we know, they’re in the robotics club.”
Kayla snorts. “I’ve never seen a geek with calves like that, but more importantly,” she says, gesturing to Lexie, “can you imagine facing this one on the softball field?”
I make a show of shuddering. “It’s the stuff of nightmares.”
Lexie narrows her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I point directly at her. “Your game face is scary.”
“Scarier than your nanna?”
I shake my head. “No one is scarier than my nanna, bless her heart.”
My roommates burst out laughing and only settle when Camila tells us it’s time to start.
I stand on the sideline, watching as Lexie tosses the balloon to Kayla. They’re so close it’s only airborne for a millisecond, but as they continue, the gap between them widens.
It takes only a few passes for one of the older couples to drop their balloon. It explodes in the sand, and they break into peals of good-natured laughter.
One down.
The tweens are doing just fine, though it’s not the most coordinated-looking effort.
To my right, Jones and Flamingo Boy are keeping up a steady rhythm. I can’t help but notice the care they take with the balloon, cradling it and swinging their arms backward to lessen the impact of the longer catches.
Would it count as cheating if I gave my girls the same advice? Probably.
There’s a high-pitched yelp, and I turn just in time to see one of the tweens scrape a piece of latex off her soaked right arm. The guy next to her, who’s old enough to be her grandfather, chuckles, but it doesn’t take the universe long to respond. His pass is short. It slips through his partner’s fingers and splatters in the sand.
