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So, I tighten my ponytail, hoping that the sun isn’t illuminating too much of the grey streak at the front that I’ve given up on hiding, and beat Molly in rock-paper-scissors.
On the upside, it turns out that Bryson is also a bit of a liar.He’s not terrible at beer pong at all.About ten tosses in, he and I have three cups left to Molly and Quinn’s four.Both of the points we have against the other team were scored by Bryson.
It’s my turn to throw next.I line myself up a perfect shot with the closest cup, take a deep breath, and toss the ball.It hits the rim, slides along the edge, and then funnels itself into the cup, landing with a silent splash in the half-filled beer.
“Yeah!”I exclaim, followed quickly by a loud whoop from Bryson.I pump my fists in the air in celebration and turn to him, expecting a high-five.
Instead, I find myself hoisted in the air, Bryson’s strong arms around my waist and let out a quick yelp and grab at his shoulders.“Yeah, Carleigh!”he’s saying excitedly, likely not even realizing that he’s swinging me a bit to the side until my left foot finds the ground and I nearly stumble.Immediately, he steadies me with a big hand on my hip, one of his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach where my tank top has ridden up slightly in the excitement.“Oops, I got you!”
I laugh and look up at him, suddenly glad I’m wearing sunglasses because god knows what sort of dumb look is on my face right now.“Thanks, Bryson.”
“No casualties on my watch, babe, don’t worry,” he proclaims.Then, with a flip of his middle finger across the table, he grins.“Eat our dust, Quinn!”
“We’re only tied now, Bryson,” Quinn fires back.“Don’t count your chickens!”
“Your chickens,” Molly cuts in, giggling.“My god-”
I hand Bryson the ball, reluctantly stepping out from his grasp to allow him to line up his shot.The ball flies past the end of the table.“Ooh, damn.”
“I’ll get you next time, Quinn!”Bryson promises.“Sorry, Carleigh.”
“Oh, it’s okay.”A lie.It’s not okay.Molly and Quinn must be destroyed.
As Molly preps for her turn, Bryson slings a casual arm over my shoulder and leans against me gently.Curiously, I find myself suddenly a bit more willing to forgive him for his bad shot.
We end up losing after quite a prolonged one-cup-remaining standoff.I’m proud of the fight we put up against Molly, who I know to be a very worthy beer pong competitor.It makes the sting of the loss a little easier to bear.The other thing easing the loss is Bryson, whose upbeat attitude is a little infectious.Besides, with each additional beer, he seems to be getting a little looser with his casual touching, too, and I’m not mad at it.But that’s beside the point.Clearly.
After beer pong, I play a game of ladder golf against a friendly guy named Bishop.At this point, the sun is high in the sky and it’s hot enough outside that a cold beer sounds pretty good, so I let Molly cajole me into having a couple of light beers.I’m a self-admitted lightweight, but it’s not enough to make me feel uninhibited, though my insides do feel warm and more relaxed than usual.
At some point, somebody sets up a kiddie pool with a few inches of cold water from the hose.My legs are pretty tired from that morning’s training run, and my feet are even more so, especially after standing around outside all day, so after the game with Bishop I go over to join Sawyer and Royce in sticking my feet in the water.The grass surrounding it is a little wet, which I’m sure is probably creating a really attractive damp spot on the back of my jean shorts, but it’s hot enough outside that I’m also sure it’ll dry immediately.
The cold water is a shock to my system at first, but that feeling is quickly overtaken by a wave of relief.I sigh, happily.“Oh, that’s great.”
Royce smiles at me.“Remarkable how much just cooling your feet down helps out, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” Sawyer agrees.“Royce, I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I just love that blue polish color.It’s perfect.”
My eyes fall to Royce’s fingernails, which are painted the same deep blue color as his toes.It is a gorgeous blue.“Really nice,” I agree, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my bare toenails - about my feet generally, which I’ve kept callused and rough from running.“I should’ve thrown on some cheap red polish or something for Independence Day,” I add thoughtfully.“Next year.”
“I’ve got some blue polish in my bag,” Royce offers.“I mean, mine is shellac, but I keep a spare regular polish in a close enough color on hand.Just to patch any chips until I can get them redone, you know.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“No problem,” he cuts in, dragging his feet out of the pool.He hops up and disappears into the house.
I slip my feet out as well and inspect them a little closer.I grimace at Sawyer.“I should’ve gotten a pedicure, probably.”
Sawyer shrugs and smiles at me reassuringly.“It’s all good.Royce’ll fix you up.His specialty.”
“Yeah?”
She nods.“He’s been dedicated to that same polish for a few years now, knows his way around nails.”
I run my hand along the heel of my foot.“I’m training for a marathon right now and my feet are kind of vile from that,” I explain.“The calluses are good to keep for that.”
“Oh really?”Sawyer asks, clearly interested.“I was thinking about doing something like that next spring.When is it?”
“Middle of August.So, it’s ramping up right away.Today was a pretty light run, but my legs are still tired, somehow.”I give a soft laugh.“I might not make it to August at this rate.”
