Avery’s hands move to cover himself up over the towel.
Akira snorts. "That’s animpressivetent."
"Akira!" I hiss, a blush staining my cheeks.
"Of course, I’ll take the bag. Anything forour girl." She winks.
I groan, then slap a smile on my face, turning to Avery.
"See you later." I walk out, closing the door behind me. Akira leads the way to the car parked at the back of our hotel.
***
"Why are you hiding away?" Akira asks, my feet buried in the sand with my ass sitting comfortably on one of the towels she’s packed for everybody.
"Hiding away?" I squint, my sunglasses are not blocking out the sun very well. She packed an umbrella for me, too, which I’m grateful for. After our time at the venue in Montana, and I told her about my MS, she’s been a lot more protective over me. Making sure I’m always comfortable, rested, and never alone.
I miss being alone.
"You’re practically wearing winter clothes." She huffs. "It’s basically summer. We’re in Florida at a beach, away from prying eyes." She shakes her head.
I look down at my outfit.
Short, denim shorts that practically ride up my ass, my bright red swimsuit on full display behind my open, flimsy, linen shirt that doesn’t hide a damn thing.
I scoff. "I am not. I just don’t feel like getting in the water right now."
"You’re about to end up with horrible tan lines, girl." She shakes her head, lies back, and picks up the book she’s reading.
"Fuck it," I whisper. I stand, slide my shorts down my thighs, and let them drop at my feet, my shirt following immediately after.
Then I plant myself right in front of her, blocking the sun from her eyes. "Better?"
She might be wearing sunglasses, but I see it. The way her gaze shifts from my lips to my chest, lingering a little too long on my stomach... and thighs. "Are they from…"
"Yep. The medication’s leaving permanent dents in my skin, I think. Got a fresh one on the back of my arm from this morning. Still getting used to it." I shrug. "You coming, or am I swimming alone?" I hold out my hand. Giggling, she takes it, and we race toward the water, diving in headfirst into the waves.
Chapter forty-two
Avery
It’sonlynowthatI realize I’ve listened to Olive’s music a little too much lately. So much that I’ve forgotten what I used to play when I trained alone.
Back then, I’d switch my brain off and just focus on the feel of the rubber in my palms, the satisfying swish of the ball through the net, and the music thrumming in my ears.
Instead of wasting time trying to remember, I pick a random Hype Up playlist and head to the concrete court.
This place is a lot more run-down than I remember. Graffiti stains the stands and even the court itself, with potholes in places dangerous enough to snap ankles if you’re not careful. The chain on the basketball hoop dangles like it’s hanging on for dear life. One rough tug and it’d probably fall to the ground.
My first shot slips through the hoop easily, rattling the chain. I jog over to collect the ball, glancing down at the phone I left at the base of the hoop.
No notifications. Just as I expected.
For the next hour, I do the same thing. I don’t miss a single shot as the music blares through my noise-canceling headphones, my head fully in the game.
Shoot the ball, collect it, start again.
Shoot.
