Halfway through, we are up by two points.
I lunged for a tricky ball, skidding in the sand and leaving golden streaks across my legs.
The sting doesn’t even matter—I’m too busy laughing as Yana squeals, launching herself into a perfect pass to Luca.
He barely moves, smirking, and then bam—he sends the ball straight over the net with perfect timing.
“Nice one, Dreamer boy!” I yell, and he winks.
“Don’t jinx it!” Yana yells, hopping back into position, sand flying behind her like a glitter trail.
Matt’s shoe gets stuck mid-step, and he nearly face-plants; his arms fail as he tries to catch his balance.
“I meant to do that!” he shouts, sand flying into Luca’s hair, who only flicks it away with a barely visible groan.
“You’re horrible!” I laugh, doubling over, sand scratching my knees, but I can’t stop grinning.
“Completely unfair,” Luca says, pretending to be annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a way that screams he isn’t really.
Zara dives for a ball at the same time as I, and we collide with a soft thud, laughing hysterically. “Careful! You could have sand-blinded me!” she jokes.
Yana jogges over, holding a spare water bottle. “Hydrate Tills, you’re going to pass out if you don’t,” she says, smirking.
I grab a sip, the cool water tasting like tiny drops of heaven in the heat.
The points fly by.
We are shouting, laughing, and teasing each other constantly.
Matt keeps making ridiculous victory dances after every point he scores, and Yana pretends to roll her eyes but giggles every single time.
Luca’s smirk becomes a constant companion in my peripheral vision, and for some reason, I don’t actually want to complain about it.
I hate noticing the little things—how his sand-streaked hair sticks to his forehead.
How the corners of his lips curl when he is genuinely amused.
How his shoulders relax ever so slightly when we cheer together.
Damn it.
Near the end of the game, the timer is ticking down, five seconds left.
The other team sends a fast, low ball my way. I dive, palms scraping in the sand, and flick it toward Yana.
She leaps, catching it just in time and passing it to Luca.
With a strong, satisfying smack, he slams it over the net.
“Yes!” we all scream, hugging each other, causing the sand to grit against our bodies.
Matt immediately starts narrating like a sports commentator.
“And that’s the championship-winning point!”
After a few moments of sand-caked chaos, we start walking back toward the car, brushing off as best we can.
Luca sidles up beside me, a little smirk on his face.
