I’m staring straight ahead at the party going on in front of me when Chloe climbs on to my chair. She parks herself on top of me, sitting on the chair between my legs so we’re sitting face to face. Her long legs fall over the side of the chair, and I rest my drink on her knee without thinking. Touching her has become automatic.

“You look nice.”

The green ties of her suit top are pulled in a perfect bow behind her neck. The same dark green as her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

Being near her reminds me how much I want her and how stupid it was to agree to this fake dating nonsense. Though, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t want her to go back to being isolated and the punching bag for her teammates.

“If this is about last night, I’m really sorry.”

“I get it. We had an arrangement, and I fucked with it.”

She looks pained. “We’re friends. I like hanging out with you. Let’s keep it at that for now, okay?”

“Except when your teammates are around?” I don’t mean for it to come out in such a bitter tone, but it does. I rub a hand over my unshaven jaw. “I’m a dick right now. Give me a few more and I’ll be the life of the party.” I lift the cup and take another swallow.

Chloe takes my cup mid drink, puts it on the ground, and then stands and takes my hand, tugging me forward. I stand and follow as she walks away from the pool.

“Where are we going?” I ask when she leads us inside.

She doesn’t answer and I keep on following along like a chump through the house and out the front door. A silver Mercedes is parked on the curb. California plates C MAC.

“Nice ride,” I say, but she doesn’t get in.

We cross the street past the fieldhouse and the baseball field until I’m sure she’s just fucking with me when the sand courts come into view.

Wordlessly, she unlocks a cage of balls and takes out six of them. She lines them all up in a row, save one she rolls in her hand. She kicks off her sandals and stands just behind the boundary tape. Tucking the ball between her elbow and hip, she leans down and grabs a hand full of sand. As she rises, she lets it fall through her fingers. Then, standing tall, she serves the ball. A mean hit that lands just in bounds on the opposite far corner.

She hits all six balls before she switches sides and does the same thing. I watch her work out her frustrations on the ball. She’s badass. Surfer Princess is tougher than I’ve been giving her credit for.