Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,35
purple pants streaked and smudged with dust from the diamond. His light eyes glanced between us. “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Walsh said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I think I’m going to pass on the bay.”
“Dude.” All jovialness on Zach’s face vanished as he stared down his friend. “You are not bailing on me. You’re the one who made me sign up for that stupid tournament. No offense, Sophia, but I called dibs first.”
I fought a grin as I pushed to my feet, standing over Walsh. “Let’s go to the bay,” I told him, reaching down and picking up his hands. I didn’t tug on them, didn’t draw him to his feet, just held them. The strangeness of the moment hit me: I was holding hands with Walsh Hunter. In public. “It’ll be fun. I’ll watch you play volleyball and I can get a slushy. We can even take cute pictures.”
I wasn’t sure that pictures would’ve even been an incentive for me, but Walsh’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Can’t turn down the slushies,” he said eventually, rising to his feet. He tugged on my hands firmly enough to pull me closer until my chest hit his. I couldn’t help but let out a sharp breath, the sudden proximity jostling my insides. “Can’t say no to you.”
My lips smiled, my heart skipping a beat. “No,” I said. “You really can’t.”
Chapter Ten
I didn’t go to the bay all that often, mostly because it was always packed with people. Either with families milling about, trying to enjoy a beach day, or teenagers running around and surfing in the ocean waves. I wasn’t big on people, so I frequently steered clear. However, when I showed up to the bay just as the sun began to set, I felt a little surge of excitement.
A plan was developed shortly after Walsh agreed to go. He wanted to go home and change, and I wanted to go home and get a swimsuit. Edith, as it turned out, was relieved of baby-brother-babysitting-duty, and she ended up grabbing me from my house and driving us over.
By the time we got to the bay, people were roaming around by the droves, and the volleyball nets were all in use. “I don’t see Walsh,” I said to Edith, straining onto my tip-toes.
“He might not be here yet. You rushed out of the house so fast I didn’t even have time to get my own swimsuit on.” She held up her bag. “It doesn’t look like they’ve started building the fire yet—probably giving the baseball players enough time to show up.”
“Yeah.” I glanced over to where the volleyball net hung, rubbing my bare arm nervously. “I’m going to go get in line for a slushy.”
“You and those slushies.” Edith shook her head. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and change. I’ll meet you in five.”
The sand was soft and warm, my sandals kicking up flecks of it as I walked. Food trucks and stands lined the sides of the sandy beach, all open and ready to serve. Their bright colors were beckoning, accompanied by the signature smells for each designated booth. I, however, gravitated toward the one that didn’t have a distinct smell. Slushies.
I glanced around the open beach, searching for a particular head of blond hair.
“Sophia, there you are!” Jewel called as she came towards me, a blanket thrown over her arm. She’d changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue halter swimsuit top, her dark hair curling over her shoulders.
She looked gorgeous. Figured. It made me feel a little more than frumpy in my one-piece.
“It’s been lonely,” she went on, reaching up and fluffing her hair over her shoulder. “Which is funny, because it’s so crowded here. Scott’s been playing volleyball for the past twenty minutes, and I’ve just been so bored.”
Which probably isn’t a bad thing, I thought bitterly. “Have you seen Walsh?”
“Haven’t seen Walsh, but I did see his friend, Zach. He was talking to Celia over by the pier.” She paused, tilting her head. “Are those two together? I can’t tell.”
Honestly? Neither could I.
A quiet lull fell over the two of us for a moment as I stepped further up in line. “So, Scott said that you were working on some sort of article for school.” Jewel burrowed her toe in the sand, overturning it in a grainy clump. “What are you writing about?”
“Baseball,” I said before I really thought it through, my thoughts snagging on what she’d said before