“I pick Sam,” Charlie says, which is also insulting because Sam is built like a toothpick. Surely I was still the better choice.
“Sloane,” Dani counters.
“Jake.”
“Great, now he has all the guys.” I cross my arms. Asher rolls his eyes.
“Annica,” Dani says.
“Then I’ll take Erin.” Charlie smiles. I smile too, because I’m going to spike it at Erin’s face.
“If you target her you’ll regret it,” Asher says like he can read my mind, then looks at Annica. “That goes for both of you.”
We take our spots in the sand, on either side of the net between us. Charlie serves first, and he floats an overhand serve to our side. Dani bumps it right in between Asher and me in the front.
“I got it!” I yell, going for a set.
“Mine,” he says, jumping to tip it. We collide but he still manages to tap the ball over, earning us a point.
“I said I had it,” I snap at him.
“So did I. If I call it, just back off.”
“Okay, go team!” Dani says from the back. “Good start!”
We rotate so it’s Asher’s serve. He sends it over hard, and it smacks off Sam’s arms and goes up to the net, where Jake spikes it down. It looks like it’s going a little to my back left and I turn to dive for it when Asher dives for it as well. We run into each other again, this time with my arm landing under him.
I hiss in pain, bringing my arm close to my chest. “I had it, Asher.”
“That was clearly my ball,” he snaps back.
“You didn’t call it!”
“Neither did you!”
“Guys?” Jake calls from the other side. “Is everyone ready? I’m going to serve.”
“Just peachy,” I mutter, getting up. Jake serves it far to our side and I run to the sand-drawn line to call it out.
“In,” Sam says. And I guess it is, as the ball indent hits the line directly.
Asher lets out a long sigh, and I turn to him. “Why didn’t you call it in, then?”
“Probably because you called it out?”
“This is going to be a long game,” Dani mutters.
Jake serves again to Annica, and she returns it on one hit. Sam volleys it back and Asher bumps it from the back row, setting up the front. I call it and go for a set. Erin moves in on the other side of the net, leaving the front corner open, so I pretend to set up Annica but push the ball behind me so that it falls perfectly on the line. And now it’s my serve.
“Good luck on the serve,” Asher says as I walk past him. “Try not toblowit.”
My fingers tighten on the ball. I toss it in the air with my left hand, and bring my right hand down hard, aiming at the back of his head. I hit my target, and he turns around rubbing his head. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry, accident,” I say with a fake pity frown. He turns back around, and I toss the ball up again, bringing it down hard on his head a second time.
“Okay, what the hell is your problem today?” he says, stalking toward me until we’re face-to-face.
“My problem?” I push my finger to his chest. “What isyourproblem?”
