37. Fallon

Ipark and peer at the steep stairs leading up to the three-story, mint-green beach rental. My dad’s work has me noting the peeling paint on the banister and side of the house, but the imperfections do little to dull my excitement. Or my nerves.

“You can’t park there!” someone yells.

I glance over, spotting Zoe and Stacy as they walk toward the house.

The trepidation that has been a low bass in my thoughts becomes blaring dread as they stop feet from my car.

I roll down my window. “I can’t park in the driveway?”

Zoe shakes her head. “We can only have five cars.”

I glance at the other vehicles. “There are only three.”

“Others are coming. You have to find somewhere else to park.” Stacy’s tone doesn’t broker a response.

I glance at the narrow street lined with rental houses. “Where am I supposed to park?”

Zoe shrugs. “That’s your problem. The rest of us carpooled.” She looks at Stacy, and the two say something quietly before sniggering and glancing at me to confirm they are talking about me.

Awesome.

Alternative Fallon would set the parking brake, grab her bag, and tell them the others can figure it out since I’m here and they aren’t, but the tension between us is already so damn thick, and the glint in their gazes confirms they’re looking for every excuse to hate me more.

The front door opens, and Brent, Murphy, and Rafael leak onto the porch.

“Hey, Fallon,” Brent calls.

“There’s a public lot a couple of miles that way,” Zoe points in the direction I came from.

“Why in the hell would she park down there?” Murphy asks as he descends the stairs.

“We can only have five cars,” Stacy repeats.

Brent shrugs. “Who’s going to enforce it? We can fit at least eight cars here.”

“It’s what our rental agreement states.” Stacy perches a hand on one hip, but her voice doesn’t become a blade as it does when she talks to me.

Brent waves away her concern. “No one’s going to give a shit. Plus, anyone with a truck can park in the front.” He descends the last couple of stairs, revealing his bare feet. “Move over about a foot, Fallon, and someone can park beside you.” He moves to the hood of my car and helps guide me over before giving me a thumbs up. “Perfect.”

I turn off my car and get out, feeling like I just won my first battle, as the front door slams behind Zoe and Stacy.

Murphy shrugs.

“Thanks for…” I wave at the parking lot.

“They’ll get over it,” Rafael says.

I want to ask what part he thinks they’ll get over: their disliking me or that I just defied them.

“Come on. We’re heading down to the beach.” Brent nods toward the boardwalk twenty feet away.

I glance at the house and then the guys. Inside, it will likely be open season for insults and complaints, so I lock my car, slip my phone into my pocket, and head toward them.

The football team held a morning practice and didn’t leave Oleander Springs until noon. I’d considered accepting a ride from Corey but feared it would cause too many questions. Now, I wish I hadn’t cared.

As I join the others, Brent’s smile flashes brighter.

The sun is warm as we trek across the weathered boards leading to the beach, sea air buffeting my skin. My heart races with a new sense of anticipation as we reach the top of the stairs, gifting me a picturesque view of the beach for miles in each direction. Groups of people dot the sand, but I barely notice them because my attention is on the Atlantic and the waves gently lapping at the shore.

“Not the worst place to spend the week, is it?” Brent asks, bumping me with his arm.

“No. Definitely not.” Even with Zoe and Stacy, my anticipation for being at the beach is untouchable.

“How do you feel about playing Westfield for your first game?” Murphy asks as we make our way down the stairs. “You’re going to be playing against your old teammates.” He says it like I might have forgotten, as if that were possible.

“If it’s anything like last year, it will be a tough match.”

Rafael chuckles. “That was the most PC answer I’ve heard in my life. Now, tell us how you really feel.”

I haven’t allowed myself to think much about the upcoming game. I’m praying I’ll step onto the field and feel that cloak of invincibility and kick ass, but I know there will be differences. The players at Westfield know my strengths and weaknesses just like I know theirs. They know my left knee tends to get sore, that I favor the right side of the field, and that when I get tunnel vision, I forget to see my center. They can, and will, exploit my weaknesses, making the game personal. I can’t admit this, though, so instead, I lean on sounding cocky like they do whenever discussing their upcoming season. “They know they can’t stop me.”

Brent grins and high-fives me. “And you’ll finally have the opportunity to correct your greatest mistake,” he teases. “Playing for Westfield.”

Everyone wants me to insult Westfield. Even one of my professors recently set the stage for me to disparage the university. But I won’t.

Westfield might be my rival now, but it was my home for two years. I grew my passion for graphic design in the classrooms there, learned that I could be a formidable player on that field, and attracted one of the best schools and coaches in the entire league on that pitch.

The sight of waves breaking on the shore distracts me from answering. I pull in a long breath of sea air as a warm wind brushes my cheeks with a sense of familiarity that makes my heart smile.

“Come on, Fallon,” Rafael calls, tossing me the soccer ball. “Let’s see what you’ve got when you’re not on your home turf.”

It’s the only invitation I need.

The sun gains in intensity as the afternoon wears on, so hot and bright I know I’ll be sunburned tomorrow.

Rafael grips the soccer ball with both hands. “You’re pretty fast for…”

“For what?” I ask when he doesn’t finish his sentence. “A girl?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.” He did. Not aloud, but it’s exactly what he was insinuating. I don’t call him on it, though. Misogyny has been rooted in sports and won’t be weeded out today or with this conversation. Instead, I pop the ball out of his hands and juggle it on my knees and feet.

“You’re such a showoff.” Murphy steps forward and tries to poke the ball loose, but I move first, dropping it and pulling it out of his reach with my foot.

“Becca’s probably pissing herself that you’ll take the role of captain,” Rafael says, earning a glare from Murphy.

I immediately stop flexing. The last thing I need is a rumor like that. “I’m her teammate, not her competition.”

“We all compete with each other,” Rafael says, reaching for the ball. I let him take it. “For starting positions, minutes, roles…”

“Yeah, but Becca’s a senior and one of the top-ranked players in the league.” Lexie would be kicking my ass if she could hear me defending Becca.

“Rafael’s just stirring the pot,” Murphy says.

A whoop has us turning to see a group of our combined teams gathered at the top of the stairs. Someone screams, and another laughs as they begin to descend the stairs.

My fragile gained footing slips out from under me, replaced by the uncomfortable sensation of being an outsider as they stream toward us, hugging and laughing.

Zoe stares at me. Becca pretends I don’t exist.

“What are you guys doing?” Zoe asks as she comes over and hugs Brent.

“Playing soccer with your team’s new secret weapon,” Rafael answers for him.

Zoe turns to me, her smile pure acid.

Fantastic.

Kelly’s laughter pulls my attention to where she’s standing in a bikini and baseball hat, talking to Margot and Alyssa. She notices me and says something to the other girls before approaching us.

Rafael playfully swipes at the bill of Kelly’s baseball cap, and she laughs before shoving him. Rafael only grins and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Fallon, how long have you been down here? I had no idea you were here,” Kelly says.

“A few hours.” I lost track of the time.

“A few hours? Why didn’t you reserve us a room with a view?” She pouts.

I try to imagine how the others would have reacted if I’d tried claiming a room when they didn’t even want me to park in the driveway.

“Are you stuck in one of the bunk rooms?” Rafael asks.

“No,” Kelly says. “Thank God. A few guys from the football team are staying in there.”

Brent frowns at the mention of the football team. “I don’t understand why they’re staying with us.”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Maybe it’s time to finally bury the hatchet.”

He scoffs.

“The party officially starts now!” someone announces.

Screams and fists fly into the air, celebrating our week of vacation before our lives become entirely dedicated to our sports.

I stick to Kelly’s side, discussing plans for the week and the two hundred dollars I didn’t know I owed.

Others slowly head back to their houses and rentals as the sun sinks lower on the horizon, making the sky look like a watercolor of soft pastels. But our group continues expanding. All the men’s and women’s soccer teams are here, and still, football players outnumber us.

Liza and a couple of other girls from the team stop to talk with us. Maybe it’s the beer or the lack of competition the beach presents, but I hope it’s because they’re finally accepting me—or at least considering it.

“Fallon,” Kelly grumbles.

I groan in protest, too tired to respond.

“What’s that beeping? Turn it off.”

The alarm of my pump blares a second later, forcing me to wake up.

I roll out of bed, slip a bra on under my tee, and grab a juice box before heading to the kitchen. My phone buzzes with a text, and I realize I’ve missed a dozen messages from Corey asking how the night was and inviting me to come out on the boat he’d told me about.

Corey: Are you awake?

Corey: Fallon. You’re making me nervous. Let me know you’re okay so I don’t have to come up with an excuse when I knock on your door in twenty minutes.

Me: Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. The house was crazy.

Me: Can you text me the address of the marina?

Anticipation for seeing Corey is already humming in my stomach despite the fact that I can hardly keep my eyes open as I peer into the fridge. It smells stale and slightly sour. Inside are two cans of beer and a tipped-over bottle that is slowly dripping blue alcohol to the bottom where it’s pooling. I tighten the lid and grab a handful of paper towels to sop up the mess.

A hand falls on my shoulder as I’m about to stand, making me jump.

“Did they eat everything?” Brent asks.

It’s nearly nine, but the house is silent. Everyone’s still asleep. I have no idea what time they went to bed, but it was long after midnight when I finally went to the room I’m sharing with Kelly.

I nod and take a step to throw away the paper towels.

Kelly walks in, her eyes half closed as she releases a loud yawn. “Who in the hell was calling you so many times?”

“Sorry,” I tell her, rather than explain it wasn’t my phone, which was on vibrate.

She releases another yawn.

Pops comes into the kitchen with Aiko close behind, her eyes red-tinted. She walks over to Kelly, and the two clumsily embrace, looking like they’re holding each other upright.

“Hudson called, and we’re meeting at the marina.” She yawns again. “I hope you’re ready.”

Pops chuckles as he pulls open the fridge and takes a quick glance inside. “Do we have coffee?”

“No one went to the store,” Kelly says, shaking her head. “There might be leftover pizza from last night.”

“Negative,” Brent tells her.

“Damn. If you guys can get ready in ten minutes, we’ll stop and pick something up.” Pops looks across all of us, including me in his offer.

Brent turns to me. “Are you going?”

A yes is already on my lips before Kelly says, “She is. You should come, too.”

Brent shakes his head. “I’m going to regret this.” He grabs one of the beers from the fridge and heads for the living room, belching loudly before he even takes a sip.

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Come on. Let’s get ready.” She grabs my hand, hauling me toward our room.

“Ten minutes! You don’t need to shower because we’re jumping into the ocean,” Pops calls.

Kelly rifles through her bag, her energy resembling someone who’s had breakfast, two cups of coffee, and a shower. She glances at me with a black string bikini dangling from her fingers.

“Are you going to invite Rafael?” I ask.

Kelly shakes her head. “I told Aiko that I like Corey to ensure we’d get seats on the boat.”

Her response hits me like a soccer ball to the face.

“What about Rafael? You two spent a lot of time together last night…” I ask rather than remind her that Corey told her he only wanted to be friends, but she hasn’t mentioned it yet, and I’m still pretending like I don’t know.

She winces. “I don’t know. I like Rafael, but I’ve liked Corey for so. Damn. Long. This might be my chance, and I will regret it if I don’t at least try.” She looks at my bag. “And I’m going to need your help since you’re friends with him now. Get changed, and let’s go. Pops won’t wait for us.”

Panic is a four-wheeler on my chest as I slip on my coral-colored bikini.

“Also, Brent totally likes you,” Kelly tells me as she applies makeup in our attached bathroom, distracting me from scrutinizing my stark tan lines that will undoubtedly be a spectacle today. My stomach and back look like they haven’t seen the sun in a decade, while my arms and legs are bronzed from our double practices. “I think Zoe likes Brent.”

She shakes her head. “They’re just friends. Plus, he’s coming today. There’s no way he’d go if he wasn’t into you.”

I shake my head, refusing this theoretical match. “He seems nice, but I’m not interested in him like that.” I throw some snacks and juice into a bag along with my sunglasses, sunscreen, and phone.

“In Brent? Are you blind? Maybe today will change your mind.”

We swap places so I can brush my teeth. My hair is shockingly obedient for having spent yesterday afternoon on the beach. I pull it back into a ponytail and barely have my shoes on before Pops calls a final warning.

“Should I move my car?” I ask as we gather in the living room. The house has a slightly musty scent, and all the furniture is outdated, covered in floral designs that remind me too much of that hotel where I slept with Corey.

“Just leave your keys so someone can move it if they need to,” Aiko says.

I glance at Kelly as one horrible idea is replaced with another. “Will my car be filled with sand or worse if I do?”

“Let’s go,” Pops booms. “No one left anything plugged in, right?”

“Leave your keys,” Kelly says. “They’ll be pissed if you’re boxing someone in. No one will do anything to your car.”

I reluctantly set my keys on the counter and follow them out the door.

“Fallon’s in the middle,” Kelly says as we stop at Pops’s lifted truck.

“Works for me,” Brent says, scooting over so I can sit beside him.