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"Let's go! You're on my team," Ashton says, appearing out of nowhere and taking my hand to pull me toward the bucket.
"We seem to have even numbers to make it guys versus girls," Stefan proposes. "It'll be easier to know who's on your team."
No one objects. Ten girls versus ten boys. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or horrified that the guys own this many squirt guns. And these aren't the small dollar store ones that need to be filled up after five squirts. These water guns have full pump-action, drenching capabilities.
Ashton and I strip down to our bikini tops. I keep my shorts on with my metallic peach halter top. While Ashton bares all the way down to her cherry-red string bikini. I think I hear a few gulps as she kicks off her sandals. I'm starting to wonder if her mother is Gisele, but she's not married to a rock star, or old enough. Whoever the supermodel is, Ashton definitely has her body.
I don't know why I'm compelled to search for Brendan. But when I find him, he's sweet talking one of the other females. She's curvy and about to bust out of her bikini top if she walks too fast, forget about runs. I glance over at Ashton, but she's not paying any attention to him. She's scanning our opponents with laser beam focus, like she's trying to decide who to take down first. I think if she had black liner, she'd draw marks under her eyes.
"This is the plan," she says to me, propping her squirt gun against her shoulder like it's a military weapon. "We're going to let them take out the easy bimbo-targets first. That'll distract them long enough to allow us to slip around behind the shed. I'll get on top and ambush them from an aerial position. You flank them from the other side."
"You're going to do what?!"
"Go!" someone yells, and Ashton takes off. I scramble after her.
"Ashton, I don't think climbing on top of the shed is a good idea."
"Maybe you're right," she hollers over her shoulder. "Get down!" She dives behind a hydrangea bush. I crouch next to her. She uses the bush as a shield and shoots at a couple guys approaching from the other side. "Behind us!"
I roll onto my back and unload on someone, just as I'm being pelted in the face.
"Are you okay?" Lance calls, laughing. "I didn't mean to get you in the face."
"Jerk!" I yell, trying to get him in the face too, but hitting the back of Stefan's head. "Sorry!"
Ashton and I take off running, pursued by Lance and Stefan. They get distracted by bimbo-cleavage, so we run down to the beach.
"This was a bad plan," Ashton says, peeking over the stone wall. "We've pinned ourselves in."
"What are we doing exactly?" I ask. This isn't paintball and we don't have a flag to capture. I don't understand the point of strategizing.
"Taking them down," she says in a menacing voice. Brendan's back is to us. Ashton shoots him in the butt, although I have a feeling she was aiming between his legs. Not even I'm that cruel.
We duck when he spins around. With our backs to the wall, we tip our heads up with our guns at the ready. His head pokes out over the edge and I shoot him in the forehead. He hollers as he rolls away.
And then, we're ambushed. Stefan and Lance jump over our heads and roll on the ground, rebounding to their feet and shooting at us like they're in some action movie. Grant and Squirrel are on the stairs, and Brendan is soaking us from above.
I'm trying to shoot at them while protecting myself at the same time. It's useless.
"Retreat!" Ashton yells. We take off for the dock, abandoning our guns on the beach. When we reach the end, we jump off. I make some attempt at a dive, while Ashton does a cannonball. Didn't expect that. We emerge laughing. I may have started laughing before I reached the surface, and I'm coughing between bouts of laughter.
To our surprise, the guys jump in after us, hollering in the air before they splash in the water.
Stefan grabs ahold of my ankle and pulls me under. I yelp just before I swallow a mouthful of lake water. From under the water, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me up.
I re-emerge hacking, and come face-to-face with Grant.
"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.
I cough, still swallowing more water than air. "Yeah. I keep forgetting I can't breathe under water."
He grins.
I look around for something to hold onto, because I never mastered treading water very well. I kick off toward the trampoline. It's far enough away from the water-war--that now involves everyone--to keep me from being dunked again. Why use squirt guns when we have an entire lake?
Grant follows at a distance, probably to be sure I make it to the trampoline safely, being the responsible lifeguard that he is.
I reach for a rope on the side of the trampoline. I think he'll swim off and join back in with everyone else, but he continues to tread water near me. Still remaining a good five feet away, like he's afraid to come closer.
