Page 118 of Tourist Trap

“Use your specialty of being a stupid meathead who is good at sports and not much else, and I'll use mine.” Grant smiles and pulls his sister into him, using his knuckles at the top of her head to give her a noogie before she dips out.

“Enough goofing off, you two! This is serious! Life or death!”

“I don’t think it’s that serious, babe,” Miles says with a smile, and I turn my glare to him.

“It is to me! I don’t want to be living on the street with my hermies next week, Miles Miller.”

He smiles at me, then opens his mouth to argue before the judge shouts.

“Teams, get on the court!”

My heart races, and I turn back to my boyfriend and press my lips to his, hard. “Good luck. You’ve got this. Kick their asses.”

“Love you,” Miles murmurs, and I fight the melting of my belly.

“Love you too. Now go win for me.” He gives me a salute before Grant grabs his arm and drags him off to the last game.

Grant is about to serve, and Miles looks at me with a wink and a smile. I blow him a kiss and then look to the other side, seeing Paul glaring at his brother. Grant serves, and Brad goes for it, setting the ball for Paul, who, still watching me with a glare, misses it completely.

I jump and clap, my boobs very obviously bouncing as I do, and from the corner of my eye, I know Paul is staring. He always had a thing for my tits, and knowing his weaknesses is really going to come in handy today.

Miles gets the ball to serve now, and I look down at my bikini top, grabbing and shifting my boobs as if I'm trying to rearrange them. That's when Miles serves and slams the ball into his brother's face.

"Fuck!" Paul says, holding his now bleeding nose as Miles stares him down from across the net apologetically. "He did that on purpose."

"That was a completely legal serve," the referee says.

"You've got to be kidding me," Brad says. "It hit him in the face."

"He was supposed to hit it with his hands, not his face," the referee says.

I fight back a snort of laughter.

"I want a second opinion," Brad demands, and the second ref comes over from the other side of the net. Since this was the final match, he was also watching from the sidelines.

"I saw it, and I agree with the call. Your teammate was staring off into space." Brad looks like he's about to argue, but someone from the crowd shouts, "It was legal, get over it!" The crowd rumbles their agreement, making it hard to argue further.

His jaw goes tight before he sighs, clearly realizing he's not going to win this one.

"Can I swap out my teammate for the rest of the game?"

I realize then that he probably picked Paul to piss off Miles, and I guess it worked, in a way, just not the way he hoped it would. The ref agrees to let Brad swap, and the game moves on with Paul glaring from the sidelines, holding an ice pack to his nose.

"Game point!" someone shouts ten minutes later as The Locals and Team Surf are tied. The new team member Brad swapped in is much better than Paul, unfortunately, though the bar was kind of on the floor. The game has been tight, but now I need to do my part.

"Team Surf serves!" the referee shouts.

That's when I drop my sunglasses.

"Oh, goodness," I shout, much too loud for a sunglasses drop, but then I turn my back to the court, winking at Miles, who is shaking his head with a small smile, and I bend. The sound of a ball hitting sand hits my ears, and the crowd groans. When I stand and turn, I catch Brad smacking his teammate upside the head, the ball in the sand at his feet.

“Interference!” Brad shouts, grasping at straws. “He was distracted by her!” His hand points to me. I hold my breath, waiting to see what the ref will say since, if he lets this stand, we win.

"Please, please, please," I whisper to myself, watching the judges walk over to Brad to argue with him. I feel eyes on me, though, and I shift my gaze to Miles, who isn't watching the judges or the scoreboard or Brad or anyone else.

He's watching me.

I love you,hemouths, and I smile, shaking my head.

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