Love to Love Her YAC (12 page)

Not surprisingly, the beach has attracted a
considerable crowd this evening. Throngs of people have turned out
to play volleyball, jet ski, fish or just enjoy the sunset. Blake
maneuvers his truck into a parking space at a church across the
street from the beach. He lets down the tail gate and holds his
arms out to help me down. I walk to the edge of the bed and he
places his hands firmly around my waist to lift me onto the
pavement.

“I really like this skirt,” he murmurs in my
ear as he plants me on the ground. I smile, self-consciously
tugging on the short swath of denim.

The six of us cross the street and stake out
a vacant tract of sand next to a picnic table and a grill that
still smells of smoke and barbecue. The Ponderosa pines are
silhouetted against the multihued sky, which is lit with every
color of pink and red and yellow, and the Sierras stand out in
harsh relief against the same backdrop of astonishing color. The
lake has mutated from its typical daytime blue to a glowing
amethyst that ruffles in the balmy breeze, looking more magnificent
than I’ve ever seen it.

Spencer walks up beside me with a Frisbee in
his hands. “Hey cuz, look what I found,” he says, holding up the
green plastic disc. “Should we show them how it’s done?”

I laugh, feeling at peace for the first time
all week. “How’s this for any idea:
You
show them how it’s
done, and I’ll stumble around and make you look good.”

“Sounds good.” He winks at me and then
wanders off to recruit the others to join our game.

We divide into two teams – Spencer, Corinne
and Blake versus Adam, Ruthie and me. Corinne is strutting around
like she’s already been crowned reigning champion of the sport,
obviously putting a lot of stock in the fact she has two men for
teammates – I swear, Corinne is the anti-feminist. I must admit
their team may have the upper hand when it comes to experience
(Spence) and agility (Blake), but I’m determined not to be
trampled. Meanwhile, Ruthie keeps muttering under her breath about
getting stuck with the two blonds.

The three of us huddle to discuss strategy.
Our agreed upon battle tactic is as follows: run fast, catch the
Frisbee, and try like hell to win. That’s all we’ve got.

We face off in a line against the opposing
team. Spence has the Frisbee, but he’s taking his sweet time
deciding how to put it in play. Adam glances over at me from a
couple yards away and says, “You think you can handle this,
pumpkin? Your cousin looks pretty fierce there, and I happen to
know for a fact Blake gets fucking annoying as hell when he’s in a
competitive mood.”

I roll my eyes mockingly. “Please. I’m a
warrior, not some variety of flower. There’s nothing they can dish
out that I can’t dish right back.” I’m glad I sound a lot more
confident than I really feel.

His face splits into a huge grin. “Okay, all
right. I can tell we’re gonna get along
just
fine.”

“Quit fucking around over there and get
ready!” snaps Ruthie. She’s crouched down in her version of a
football stance, and the look on her face is one of pure bloodlust.
I smile, shaking my head at her cutthroat approach to a game she
knows little to nothing about.

Spencer wings the Frisbee, and it sails
toward us. Adam lunges and snatches it from its arced path. He
plants his left foot and pivots, then tosses it to me as Blake,
Spence and Corinne sprint toward us. I’m galvanized into action by
the jolt of adrenaline that spikes through me. I look for Ruthie,
but I’m being blocked by Blake on my right and Corinne on my left.
Spencer is guarding Adam, so I fling the Frisbee over his head and
luckily Adam nabs it. I jockey for position, attempting to run
downfield, but Blake is still standing there like a brick wall,
daring me to push up against him. I look up into his silver green
eyes. His taunts me with his delicious smile, and I blink to shake
off the spell he’s put me under. I take a deep breath and barrel
forward, slamming past him and just barely managing to keep from
getting tripped up in the process.

Ruthie has the Frisbee now, and she’s
squealing as she fights off Corinne, who has a good six inches on
her. “Ruthie!” I yell as I sprint past her, my arms outstretched.
She slices the Frisbee at me, but it’s a blind throw and it dips
out of my reach. Everything slows down as I hurdle toward the disc
and see it plummeting before my eyes. Time speeds up again as soon
as it touches the sand, and Corinne is there scooping it off the
ground, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

She hurls the Frisbee back in the other
direction, and I struggle to switch gears and keep up. Spencer
takes possession just as Adam reaches him and attempts to create a
barricade with his body. I glimpse Blake hovering a few yards up
field, and I dash towards him as Spencer lets go of the Frisbee and
it curves toward his teammate. Thinking only of having my hands on
that damn piece of plastic before Blake can beat me to it, I launch
myself through the air, arms and legs akimbo, flailing as I strain
to keep my balance while making my body as long as possible.

Several things happen all at once. I feel my
fingers closing around the Frisbee and hear someone yelling “Watch
out!” in the same instant my shoulder crashes into something solid.
“
Oof
,” says the object as we both crumple to the ground. I
lie there dazed for a moment before I begin to put the pieces
together. At first I think I must have collided with Blake as I
went for the interception, but then I see Blake running toward me
with a concerned look on his face, and I’m confused. I feel
someone’s hands on me, and I turn to see who the unlucky recipient
of my skirmish with gravity is this time.

It isn’t anyone I recognize. The guy I’m
practically lying on top of has sandy brown hair and eyes the color
of dark chocolate. As I try to right myself I notice he’s wearing a
white cutoff tank and shorts, and his handsome expression has
morphed from bewilderment into a suave smile.

“Well hello to you, too,” he says. That’s
when the embarrassment overtakes me, and I fight to stifle the heat
rising from my neck to my cheeks.

A crowd is beginning to gather. Blake offers
me his hand to pull me up off the ground as Spencer says, “Jesus,
girl, a simple handshake would’ve sufficed.”

I whirl around to offer my apologies while
Blake’s hands hurry to smooth down the hem of my skirt. I’m
privately amused by the fact he keeps his hands firmly on my hips
as I turn to face the guy I just plowed into. Laughing, he stands
and stuffs an Oakland A’s baseball cap back on his head. “No harm,
no foul. I’m Andy by the way,” he says, extending his hand to
me.

“Rhiannon,” I say as I shake it. “I am so
sorry. That was a lot more graceful when I was planning it in my
head.”

“Which part, the part where you knocked me
over, or the part where you pinned me to the ground with those legs
of yours?” he says through his debonair grin.

“All of it really. I take Frisbee very
seriously,” I say in mock earnestness.

“I can see that. Looks like you’re working up
your first battle scar there.” He touches my arm, and I shudder
when I look down to find an angry looking red rash wrapping around
my bicep to my elbow from sliding across the rocky sand.

I let out a self-deprecating chuckle as I rub
the pad of my thumb across the tender area, brushing away the
grains of sand. “I just
wish
I could say that’s my first,” I
tell him.

Andy opens his mouth as if to say something
else, but then his eyes lock on Blake’s hands on my waist and he
seems to think better of it. I can’t see Blake’s expression, but I
can imagine how pissed he must look to warrant the sheepish
expression that crosses over my victim’s face.
He is totally
cock blocking me right now!

“Well it was nice meeting you,” he says to
me. He makes as if to continue his stroll along the water, and
Blake loosens his hold on me.

“Nice to meet you, too!” I call after him,
and he turns back and beams at me before dispatching a subtle
wink.

“Lord have mercy, you have got to be the
biggest klutz alive,” remarks Corinne from behind. I glance back
and laugh at her watching Andy’s ass recede further down the
beach.

“Hey, are you okay?” Blake asks gently. I
glance around – Adam is standing off to the side looking uneasy,
and Spencer has that impatient look like he can’t wait to get back
in the game.

“Totally fine,” I reply. “Come on, let’s
finish this game before we lose the rest of our light. I believe I
had just successfully intercepted that pass from you, mister.” I
jab him in his sweaty chest and push against him, causing him to
take a step back. I’m momentarily stunned when I recognize the
sultry look in his eyes. The unchecked desire I see there causes my
fingers and toes to tingle and my mouth to go dry.

8:15 PM

W
e stick around
until the sun sinks behind the mountains and the sky gradually
drains of color and light. We walk back to the truck in pairs;
Corinne and Ruthie lead the pack while Adam and Spencer talk
football behind them. Blake and I hang back, walking side by side
without speaking. A couple of times Adam casts a look back over his
shoulder at us, and the second time Blake flips him his middle
finger. I can’t say I fully understand their friendship.

Just before we step into the harsh white glow
of the lamps lighting the church parking lot Blake drops a whisper
in my ear. “I want you up front with me.” An involuntary shiver
seizes me, and I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering as I
nod up at him.

I position myself close to the passenger side
door of the cab while Blake unlatches the tailgate. “Shot gun!” I
yell, making every effort to force the tremor from my voice. Adam
looks my way before shooting a glance at Blake, but his expression
remains impassive.

“Can I ride up front, too?” asks Ruthie. “One
of my contacts fell out. I need to keep the wind out of my eye
until I can get it back in.”

I look at Blake across the hood of the truck,
and he lifts his shoulders in an understated shrug.

“Of course. You can take the window seat,” I
say as I yank open the door.

“I’ll just bet I can,” says Ruthie knowingly
as I slide past her.

I scoot across the bench seat and straddle
the stick shift while Blake hops in on the other side and Ruthie
climbs in behind me. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but I don’t mind
being pressed up against Blake like I probably should. Our thighs
touch, and when Blake pulls the shifter between my legs I feel like
I might pass out from the surge of heat that shoots through my
core.

We drive back in silence, listening to the
strains of the others’ conversation as they drift in through the
open back window. Spencer seems to be boasting about one of this
more recent female exploits, causing Adam to laugh and Corinne to
mumble in disgust.

“Do you think Spencer is putting on a bit of
a show for Adam?” Ruthie asks quietly, probably only half
joking.

“Is there a problem, Corinne?” Spence’s voice
cuts through the breeze.

“I think we need to have a conversation about
your love ‘em and leave ‘em approach to life, Spence. Are you
really getting what you’re looking for out of this ridiculous
playboy lifestyle you lead?” She’s switched to therapist mode.
Ruthie and I exchange amused glances in the front seat, semi afraid
of where this tête-à-tête might lead.

“What would you know about it?” asks Spencer,
working to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Oh, I think I know plenty,” says Corinne
testily.

“Do you think you’ll ever look for more than
just empty sex?” asks Adam, likely his attempt at diverting the
conversation before it’s completely derailed by Corinne’s
diatribe.

“Well sure,” replies Spencer, sounding
slightly embarrassed. “I mean, it isn’t
just
sex, ya know? I
get to know them some first…” he trails off.

Corinne snorts. “No, I’m sure you’re shooting
for a very meaningful overnight relationship.” Ruthie and I share a
clandestine laugh at Corinne’s obvious vendetta and Spencer’s even
more obvious discomfort.

“What’s so funny?” asks Blake.

“Tell ya later,” I say. He smiles down at me
and gives my leg a faint squeeze that sends me spiraling into a fit
of ill-conceived lust.

Blake – Thursday, 4:30 PM

I
bow my head
against the chilly wind and duck into the student union through the
back entrance off the south quad. Once inside I unzip my jacket and
take the stairs two at a time up to the Starbucks on the second
floor. I have about an hour before I have to meet a couple of my
classmates with whom I’m working on a project for my motivational
interviewing class.

This week has been grueling between classes
and work. I’ve had two papers due, and I’m working with my boss on
a huge grant proposal. Needless to say, I haven’t had a lot of time
for much else. Rhiannon and I grabbed a quick lunch at the
beginning of the week, but with the exception of the occasional
text message we’ve barely spoken since then. I know I should wonder
about the fact I measure how busy I am by how long it’s been since
I last saw Rhiannon or heard her voice, but I’ve become really
adept at pushing those thoughts into the “consider later” pile.
Still, sooner or later I’m going to have to spend some more time
examining my relationship with her. Although I may not have
characterized my feelings toward her just yet, they are certainly
becoming more difficult to ignore.

I order a cup of Sumatra from the barista and
take my coffee to a collection of chairs in the corner next to the
fireplace. I set my coffee down long enough to fire up my laptop so
I can check my e-mail. I reply to a few messages and then click
over to my Internet browser and pull up Facebook to finish passing
the time. My newsfeed heralds a new status update from
Rhiannon: