three. follow the fold

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{Dedicated to Ruth, who is incredibly hilarious and supportive and amazing. Also, I call her "girlfriend" too many times to be cool.}

"I didn't know that we go outside in the summer anymore," Cara said as she, Dacey, and I trekked over tiny dunes of scorching sand. "I honestly was counting on enjoying my air conditioning and Internet surfing today — as I would be on a normal day."

Dacey punched Cara's arm hard enough that I knew that Cara would at least have aching muscles the next day. "Don't be antisocial, Car. And plus, we get to see shirtless guys trying to hit balls. What more do you want?"

"My boyfriend," Cara responded, crossing her arms over her chest.

I choked on a laugh and covered my mouth. But really, it was too hard to try not to crack up when Cara was in one of her irritable moods (which tended to produce the best batches of sarcasm that I'd ever witnessed in my life). Before I knew it, I was snorting and guffawing like there was no tomorrow, bending over my knees until my stomach hurt.

"What?" Dacey pouted. "I don't get it."

From how I was standing (bent over my knees, practically squatting), she looked immensely tall. (That wasn't too different from my usual view of her since I was about three inches shorter.) I looked up, rolling my eyes at her. "Come on. Nothing's funny when you have to explain it."

Cara took hold of my upper arm and yanked me up until I was stumbling, however, this time with my back straight. "You guys are such bumbling idiots sometimes," she grumbled, pulling me, and therefore Dacey as well, along as she marched and sank into the sand.

As soon as I started walking in earnest, which was the moment I stopped bending over as if I had a stomach cramp while on a run, I felt the true hotness of the sand on my feet. Cara had a point — it was ridiculously hot today with the heat of the sun beating down, and it wasn't even that breezy. The weather today was simply hot and humid, which were two words that should never be together.

I looked back to Dacey, who was wincing as she jogged to catch up with me and Cara. "Hey, remind me why we're out here again?"

"Hot guys," she answered automatically, reaching up to push back her sweat-drenched bangs. She panted a couple times. "Good Lord, I hope we're there already."

"Well, you're in luck." Cara let go of my arm, instead slinging her beach bag over her shoulder again.

Right in front of us, about twenty feet away, there was a group of teenagers playing volleyball on a court, shouting and yelling boisterously. Some heads stuck out, like Evan's, simply because they were so high above everyone else's. Girls in bikinis were scattered among the herd of shirtless boys—quite a sight that Dacey had promised me.

It reminded me quite a bit of the opening of Guys and Dolls in the bustling streets of New York City, where men and women of all sorts hustled to their destinations. However, here, the chaos was, well, chaos.

And oh my.

And then there Dom stood.

His tanned back was facing me, so there was nothing too spectacular that could cause me to drop into a coma all of a sudden. But his back muscles...they were too much. And his wild, dark hair, frizzled from the heat and the ocean breeze and sweat, was like a mop on top of his head. I could probably stand there for hours watching his body move in response to the ball...

Someone was snapping her fingers in front of my face. I blinked a couple times, stumbling back a little into someone else's feet.

"Lottie?" It was Dacey who was rudely breaking up my reverie. "You know you can't stand here for too long without looking like a freak. Or an obsessed stalker. You can choose which one you wanna be."

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