Page 11 of The Sweet Spot

“The one in the muumuu? I forgot all about that!” I cry, laughing until tears stream down my cheeks. “Whatever happened to—”

Something smacks my ankle, hard. Startled, I sit up on my elbows to see a bright, green soccer ball at my feet.

“Sorry, sorry!” a guy yells, jogging over. The sun is behind him, so I can’t quite make out his face, but then he says, “Sweet Spot?” and I totally know.

* **

“Sweet Spot?” Saira’s expression hovers between fascination and disgust.

“Wren,” I say crisply, eyeing the rowdy redheaded guy from the other day. “My name is Wren.”

“Wren, huh? I’m Matt.” His bright eyes light up as they travel down my bare legs. “Fancy seeing you here, although not really since you work, like, five feet away.”

My heart flip-flops in my chest, but only because the rest of his crew have begun to roll up. And Luca’s among them, looking likesucha snack in a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt that shows off his muscles. I’d almost forgotten just how pretty he was. Three girls walk by, tripping over themselves as they pretend not to notice.

Luca tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling down at me contritely. I’ll bet that smile’s gotten him off the hook a million times. “Hey, Wren. Sorry about the ball.”

“No worries.” I’m just surprised he remembers my name.

“Don’t let him off the hook so easy, Sweet Spot. He launched that damn thing like this was the World Cup,” complains Matt. One of their friends, the blond from the other day, wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him away. I remember him, too—he had cotton candy. They shove each other around for a minute before resuming their game.

“He’s right.” Luca grimaces, sheepishly clasping his hands behind his head. His hair’s in a bun again. I wonder how long it is. “I really am sorry.”

“It barely hit me,” I lie, my heart fluttering crazily.For God’s sake, Wren. He is just a guy. A really, really cute guy.

Saira squirms beside me, nearly bursting with curiosity. Before I can eke out some sort of awkward introduction, Luca bends down, offering her his hand. “Hey, I’m Luca.”

“Saira,” she says slowly, giving his hand a hearty shake. She glances between us. “How do you guys know each other?”

I shade my eyes against the sun. “They came by the stand last week.”

“I came back, you know, but you’d left.” Luca tilts his chin at me. “They said you’d already clocked out.”

“Oh really? Huh. Yeah, I usually just work the first shift.” My casual voice does a pretty good job of hiding my soaring heart. He came back? Rodrigo and Sean didn’t even tell me, those jerks.

He gazes steadily down at me, a little smile playing at his mouth, giving me a horrible case of butterflies. “What’re you guys getting into later?”

I look at Saira, who smirks back at me. “We were thinking of catching the movie,” she says, jerking her thumb toward the growing crowd over by the boardwalk. “Why?”

The slowly setting sun hovers just over the water, highlighting Luca’s eyes in gold. A shiver works through me, and it’s not just from the sharp breeze cutting across the sand. “Want company?” he asks.

I sneak a guilty peek Saira’s way. “Do we?”

“Of course, we do.” She stands, stretching. “But I’m gonna go to the bathroom, so watch my stuff.”

Luca brazenly takes her place as she walks away, dropping onto herblanket and stretching out. He smells so good, like laundry detergent and something earthy and soft. Sandalwood, maybe.

“I have that hoodie,” he says.

I smile a little, looking down at my black hoodie. It’s the one with the iconic “classic dot” Santa Cruz logo emblazoned across the front. Every local has this hoodie. Shoot, most tourists have it, too. “Who doesn’t?” I tease.

“Mine’s old and falling apart.” He chuckles.

“I’ve been through so many of these.” I touch my fingers to the fabric. “I even went through a phase in middle school where I had it in pink and white.”

“Of course, you did.”

We share a smile. Matt jogs by, kicking up sand as he chases the ball.

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