I wade out farther. The water laps at my knees. Then my waist. Just below my breasts. I stare straight ahead. The curves of the cove are invisible from this angle, and all I can see is the ocean stretching ahead until it melds into the distant horizon.

Sarah’s innocent question reverberates around my skull. Isn’t Kluvberg the team Adler Beck plays for? I’m going to have to get used to it. He’s not suddenly going to fade into obscurity. I’ll hear his name. Watch him play. See him on magazine covers. If he starts dating someone, I’ll see coverage of it everywhere. If he gets engaged. Married. Has kids one day. His entire life will play out in the media, and I’ll have to witness it.

I just hope I won’t care by then.

“Saylor! Saylor!” I turn in the water. Kyle is standing at the edge, waving his arms. I splash back closer to shore.

“What?” I call.

“I need you on my team for beach volleyball,” he yells back.

“Fine.” I trudge the rest of the way through the water, fighting the current the whole way.

Some of the other soccer players have already set up a line of rocks I surmise is supposed to be the “net.”

“Tempting some sharks?” Kyle asks me when I reach shore.

“Statistically, it’s more likely I’d get struck by lightning,” I utter dryly.

“Saylor Scott: not just beauty, but brains too,” Kyle announces, like he’s a television commentator.

I scoff as I step into the setter’s position.

“Ball,” I bark at the redhead holding the white sphere. I’ve never seen him before and there are only sports teams here, so he must be a freshman. He startles, then tosses it to me.

I spike the ball across the rocks. Since there’s no visible net, I have to guesstimate on the height, but the ball arcs a good six feet before landing in the sand between two football players, who immediately start arguing about who should have been responsible for returning it to this side of the rocks. I whistle to get their attention, and one returns the ball to me. I send it sailing to the other side again, except this time one of them is quick enough to return it. I lunge forward to spike it back but am distracted when a hand brushes against my left butt cheek.

I whirl around, forgetting about the ball. “Did you just touch my ass?” I snap at the same redhead who passed me the ball a few minutes ago.

He pales. “It was an accident.”

“An accident? Did your hand detach from your brain? Why don’t you grab your own dick while you’re at it?”

“Saylor, come on.” Kyle suddenly appears at my side. “Let’s grab a drink.”