Of course he has to be hot. Tall. One of those stupid lean builds that says, "I do yoga and emotionally support women" or whatever. Confident smirk. Clean fingers. Freckles.
Get out.
I want to punch every single one. He sits right next to Rava. Way too close. I want to slap the smugness off his fucking stupid symmetrical face. "I'm Jasper," he says, grinning at Rava.
Not even fucking glancing at the rest of us. Rava blinks, clearly caught off guard. He puts down his Malibu slowly, then nods once. "I'm Rava. This is Gio," he gestures toward me. His fingers brush my arm.
"This is Daisy and Lorenzo." Jasper doesn't even react. Just throws Rava a casual "Nice to meet you" before stretching his long-ass limbs. I glance at Daisy. She's now holding the ball in her hand and giving me full side eye.
We start playing. Just a few lazy passes, Lorenzo's making dumb spins, Daisy too. And then there's this fucker.
Jasper.
Every time the ball goes near Rava, suddenly ooohh Jasper's right there. Like a fucking shadow.
He slips in from nowhere, brushes against Rava's shoulder, his lower back, pretending it's casual. Every few minutes he throws in a, "You're really good at this," eyes on Rava's mouth like he wants to lick the words off his lips.
I'm trying not to choke him with my own fucking necklace. The ball comes to me. I go for it, my arms scream from the pain. It lands off-center. Not terrible, but not great either.
Jasper jumps in instantly and laughs. "Guess not everyone trained for the big leagues," he says with that snaky smile, like he just said, "Nice weather we're having." I stare at him.
Lord… I want to drag my thumb across his teeth like a piano, feel which ones are loose enough to remove.
But I don't. I pass the fucking ball. I can't say anything. That's the worst fucking part.
What do I even say? "Hey, Rava, I don't like another male organism standing that close to you." Fucking pathetic. So I shut up. I press my lips hard together. And I keep playing. Rava makes a killer pass, honestly, it's so good I almost forget I want to commit murder.
Lorenzo whistles. "Damn, bro," he laughs, shaking sand out of his hair. "What's this? Planning on being a volleyball pro on the side of your sexy schoolteacher job?" Rava laughs too.
"Wait, what?"
It's him. Jasper, with his fucking fake surprise. "You're gonna be a teacher? No way! I'm in education too, that's crazy!"
I freeze. There's no fucking way.
I don't even hide the eye-roll. He studies education? Yeah, sure, buddy. He's just saying that to impress him. Obviously. Basic shit. The oooooldest move in the fucking book.
Say whatever the hot guy says, pretend to have something in common, boom—bonding. Fucking pathetic.
"I just finished a thesis on linguistic scaffolding for bilingual toddlers."
...
Fuck me sideways.
He's telling the truth.
I can't be living this. Of course he fucking looks at me. The moment he finds out Rava studies education too, of course he turns his smug freckled face toward me like he'd just scored a fucking goal.
I don't look back. I refuse. I just keep staring at the ball in my hands. The universe is spitting directly in my face.
What are the fucking chances??
Out of every guy on this beach, he just had to pick mine.
He just had to study the exact same thing, didn't he? Couldn't have been a plumber or a barista or literally anything else that wouldn't make my teeth grind.
No.
