When we reach the beach, we stick our water bottles into the sand underneath a palm tree and join a group of couples stretching. I have no idea what I’m in for, but anything’s better than Lady Shiba’s shenanigans. I’m looking forward to being around people besides Basil. My thoughts have never been consumed by another woman to this extent.
The area’s packed with people congregating around several stations blocked off and covered by blue tarps. I catch wind of the couple standing next to us talking about piles of wood. Curiosity piqued, I grab the back of my neck. Are we building something? Then I wince in pain and groan. That couch will be the death of me. My body aches from sleeping on my side, and I’m hoping stretching will help. Basil’s looking my way but doesn’t say anything. I drop my arm before she makes a comment.
The smell of limes, beer, and grilled burgers fills my nose as we approach our station.
“There are a ton of people here. This must be a big deal,” I say to Basil, noting we’re the only couple not in matching uniforms.
“Now that the Joneses have arrived, this is more exciting than my love for stilettos, and that’s saying something,” Basil says.
I recall four high-dollar pairs neatly sitting near the closet door. “Let me guess, you don’t like to lose?”
She shrugs. “I’m not the best at it. The bright side is if we lose, I’ll get more time for sunbathing.”
At that, I give her a slanted-brow look. I know she wouldn’t dare let Lynn and Mae see her go down so easily.
“We won’t be defeated. The only reason we lose is if we forfeit, so don't go entertaining any ideas.” She sends me a playful wink.
“Thought so.” I peek over at her outstretched body. As she reaches for the sky, her shirt rises enough for me to dance my sights along the gap of bare skin above her waistline. When she catches me, our eyes hold. I lean over to touch my toes and wince at the tightness in my hips.
“You okay?” Basil asks.
“Tiny-couch problems.”
“You mean tall-woman problems.” Her teasing grin finds me. “It doesn’t go unnoticed.”
A tingle travels up my spine as she slowly sizes me up. Using my towel, I wipe the beads of sweat forming on my forehead, then unstick the fabric from the back of my leg. It’s officially sticky-shorts hot out here. I change the subject. “My hamstring gets tight after taking a few days off my exercise routine. Sleeping on a couch hasn’t helped. I’m a stomach sleeper to boot.”
“You mean I actually have to carry the team?”
My brows raise.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I offered the bed and you said no, remember?” A smile crosses her face before she takes a drink of water and returns to mocking me. “Poor honey dearest. Maybe try the floor? I’d ask if you want to share the bed again, but I’m getting used to all that space for myself, and if I remember correctly, you snore.”
“You’re a delight, you know that?”
She sandwiches her bottom lip between her teeth, her mouth curling upward. “A delight who wins.”
I turn and take in the rushing waves rolling onto the shore. “At least the view’s nice.” Then I grumble, “Even if my wife isn’t.”
“Heard that,” she fires back. “If charm were currency, you'd be bankrupt, honey.”
I’m grinning at our back-and-forth, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it.
Minutes later, we’re ushered into position behind a line, cueing the announcer, an older black woman wearing an Afro and visor to approach the middle stage and tap the microphone. The show is about to begin.
In a Bruce Buffer style, the announcer belts the start of the Sapphic Olympics. Cheers and applause erupt all around us. So many women from all around the world are here. This is pride. This energy is special.
After a few lingering finger whistles, the crowd calms enough to clearly hear our instructions.
“I have incredible news for today’s contestants!” The announcer flashes a mischievous grin toward us. “The island’s getting a boutique library that serves wine and sapphic books on tap for all to enjoy. ”
There’s more clapping, and someone yanks the tarps away, exposing large cardboard boxes. “Andyou’regoing to help build the items that help make it possible.”
Bookcases? I definitely didn’t sign up for this.
“Serious question.” Basil leans close after peering around, then whispers, “If we’re all here, who’s filling in at all the hardware stores? I’ve never seen this many tool-belt lesbians in one place.”
I shrug and chuckle at her words. Then I watch confusion stir amongst the teams as heads turn, possibly just as thrown off as we are.
