Serves the jerk right.
I clap, and even I don’t know if I’m celebrating karma or cheering for my team. “You guys are killing it! Keep up the good work!”
Judging by the determined faces of the remaining players, this could go on for a while. Both teams are a good dozen feet apart now, but they’re making the game look easy.
“Señor, you need to take a step back,” Camila calls out, gesturing to Jones.
He immediately steps back, a chagrined smile on his face. He mumbles an apology, but not before Lexie calls him out for trying to cheat. The girl is not messing around. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were in the real Olympics.
“I don’t have to cheat to win!” he hollers, sweat trickling down his brow. “I just forgot.”
“Riiight,” Lexie trills, tossing her balloon to Kayla. “I’m sure you’re the picture of—”
The balloon explodes in Kayla’s hands, soaking her face and shirt.
So much for having this thing in the bag.
4
KNOX
“You’ve gotto be kidding me.” I wipe the sweat from my brow. It’s hot as balls on the beach, and I’d give just about anything to be back in the shade of the bar. It’s got to be at least ten degrees cooler up there.
Jones nudges me with his elbow. “Don’t be a sore winner.”
“That’s rich coming from the guy who did a celebration dance not thirty seconds ago.”
“That was different. I had to defend my honor.” He crosses his arms, glaring at the uber-competitive brunette who’s become his nemesis in record time. “You heard her. She called me a cheater. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them.”
I snort, and he has the good sense to backpedal.
“That was one time. And it was beer pong. Everyone cheats at beer pong.”
Not everyone. I sure as shit wouldn’t cheat at a drinking game.
“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got this.” Bergeron strips off his shirt and tosses it in the sand. He flashes Jones a devious grin before adding, “And unlike Jones, I don’t need to cheat.”
“Something tells me I’m going to regret asking, but what the hell are you on about?”
“Back home, I was limbo champion at the ice rink.” He slings one arm around my shoulder and the other around Jones’. “I can limbo with my eyes closed and one arm tied behind my back.”
“Limbo champ, huh?” I shake my head in disbelief, not only because Bergeron has a tendency to exaggerate, but because it’s hard to imagine the hulking defender ducking and dipping just for kicks. “How come this is the first time we’re hearing about it?”
God knows the kid doesn’t have a humble bone in his body. Hell, his confidence is one of the things I like best about him.
“You think I was going to tell you assholes so you could spread it around campus?” He scoffs. “I don’t think so. But for this, I’ll do it.”
The man makes a point, but I’m not about to tell him that.
“You sure you’re up to this?” His breath smells like a bowl of party punch, and though I can’t see his pupils behind his dark shades, I’ve got to assume they’re dilated AF. “You look a little green around the gills, my guy.”
He straightens, indignation giving him what can only be a temporary boost. “I grew up in the Maritimes. I can hold my drink as well as anyone here.”
That’s not saying a whole lot given the audience, but I’m not about to argue.
“Better you than me.” I break away from our trio. “Good luck out there, boys. I’ll be cheering you on from the sideline.”
Jones throws up his hands. “You’re seriously just going to leave us hanging?”
