Page 28 of Best Frenemies

“Oh, okay. Well…” She pauses to glance out toward him again, and she digs her teeth into her bottom lip. “Do you happen to have his number?”

I find myself shaking my head, even though I do, in fact, have Mack’s number programmed into my phone from when we were supposed to work on the fall carnival planning committee together last year. Communication is key in teamwork, and I believed that pretty fervently until it became obvious that the real key to teamwork with Mack Houston was getting him off the team.

“Well, I need a really big favor, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

I tilt my head to the side, but she’s already taking action. Before I know it, she’s reaching down and picking up my cell phone from the top of my beach bag and handing it to me.

It’s all I can do not to choke on my tongue.

“I need you to give him my name and number.” She smiles like she isn’t taking a leap to the fucking moon over my boundaries right now. “My name is Maddie,” she continues as her eyes nod knowingly toward the phone that’s now in my hands. “Just let me know when you’re ready for my number.”

I have a three-second vivid fantasy of jumping up from my chair and tackling her into the sand while I smash my phone over her head. But the reality of my pushover tendencies is hot on its heels, and before I know it, I’m typing in my passcode and pulling up a fresh page in my Notes app.

Holy hell, I’m my own worst enemy.

“You ready?” she asks, her voice painfully, gratingly excited.

“Yep.” I nod.

She rattles off her digits, even punctuating the last four digits with her fingers twirling strands of her blond hair. It’s like she’s turning into a cat in heat just from the mere thought of Mack having her phone number.

“Okay, got it,” I confirm and wiggle my phone in my hand as some psychotic show of good faith.

But she grabs the phone from my hands—without permissionagain—and double-checks that I’ve typed the number without any mistakes.

My mouth agape, she tosses my cell back to me and orders without shame, “Give it to him as soon as he’s done, okay? We want to let him know our plans for tonight.”

I smile through gritted teeth. “Mm-hmm.”

“Thanks, babe. I appreciate it.” She turns on her heel, she and her friends skipping back toward their setup mere meters away.

Beyond annoyed—and let’s face it, it’s mostly at myself—I jump up from my chair and toss both my phone and book into my beach bag.

My initial idea is to walk, but with the heat of the sun and my irritation working together, I feel like I’ll absolutely expire if I don’t do something to cool off, right this instant.

Ihaveto get in the water.

Mack is still doing his paddleboarding thing, despite the physical exhaustion he must be feeling from doing it for so long, and it makes me realize why the man’s body is so damn fit. I’m practically out of breath from my encounter with the Trollop-y Three and this short walk to the edge of the waves, and he’s out there doing someAmazing Racetype of crap.

The Gulf water feels warm on my toes but just cool enough that I can already feel relief from the Florida sun.

Gah, that feels good.

I generally prefer the pool over the ocean—since one has sharks and the other doesn’t—but there’s just something about the clear waters of the Gulf that make me feel okay to wade in the water. With the caveat of not going any deeper than my knees, of course.

When I can see my feet, I’m good. When I can’t see my feet,fuhgeddaboudit.

I stare out toward the horizon, purposefully away from the muscly paddleboarder, and walk deeper into the water.

And I just let my mind be still. I’m not thinking about lesson plans or laundry or my crazy parents or bills. I’m just…being.

I move back and forth with the flow of the water, and even to the left and right as the pull of the waves heading back out to the horizon sucks at my feet.

The toes of my left foot tap something sharp, and I startle, quickly adjusting all my weight to my right—and stepping directly onto something that feels like an honest-to-goodness knife.

The pain resonates like a real mothereffer, and a sharp screech involuntarily barrels out of my lungs. “Ayyeeeowww!” I groan and hastily fall back onto my butt into the wet, wave-swallowed sand behind me.

What was that?

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