“I need to talk to my friend Harper. I’m not sure she is good for you. Your jokes are getting better, and we can’t have that. You wear the grumpy asshole hat in this group, and you can’t just change that now.” He stands with his hands on his hips as Rem and I are too busy celebrating winning the point and taking back the serve for our team.

“I beg to differ. I think she is fucking great for Forrest. I haven’t seen him this happy since the day I met him. Which means he might let me spend a bit more of my own money now.” Nic winks at me as he gets prepared for the next serve from me.

“Sex will do that do a man,” Rem replies as my serve goes flying over the net right to Nic, and away we go again, with both the rallying and with the banter.

* * *

The games started with Flynn taking his shirt off, but by the time we were three games in, we’ve all stripped off our shirts, and the sweat is pouring off us. If there is one thing that is guaranteed, it’s how competitive we are. Doesn’t matter if it’s in a game or a boardroom, we never give in. It’s part of why we are so successful. For all the times in my life that I felt like I carried all the responsibility of looking out for Flynn, this friendship group that he brought me was worth the stress.

As we are about to finish up what we had already decided would be the last game, whistles and cheers come from the balcony off the villa’s main living area.

“Who’s pretending to be Maverick and who’s Ice Man?” Tori calls out. “Because we know that Flynn is Goose, there’s no debate on that.” All the girls are laughing so hard.

Nic rolls his eyes at all of us. “Oh my God, ever since the last Top Gun movie came out, she has been obsessed with the first movie as well. I’m sure she rewinds that volleyball scene over and over again. She wasn’t even born when it came out, for God’s sake.”

“Well, time to give her a show so she stops fantasizing about a movie and only pictures you in her real-life volleyball game.” Rem smirks and serves the ball up, and it’s game on. Like I said, we are competitive bastards, so regardless of the running commentary from the balcony, we ignore it and concentrate on winning the next point.

* * *

Walking out of the shower with the towel wrapped around me, I see all the shopping bags on the bed, but Harper is not in the bedroom.

I can’t help myself, looking into the bag and hoping that there may be a little present in there for me too. The smaller the better and lace preferably.