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My Abby.
Abby. Just Abby.
Even after I stop and say hey to a few guys I know and get chest-crushing hugs from the chicks, I make my way towards the edge of the beach. It doesn’t take me long to find her sisters there, laughing and carrying on like a bunch of banshees. Ryan and Dean are right there, watching over the girls with a hawk’s eye. It still feels weird not to see Josh there, Meghan’s fiancé. I also realize real quickly that I don’t see Abby.
“Hey, guys. Having a good night?” I ask my friend’s sisters; women I’ve known for fifteen years.
“Levi!” Lexi hollers, barely taking her beer bottle away from her lips.
“You guys sound great tonight,” Ryan says as he throws a protective arm around Jaime’s shoulder.
“Thanks.” I take a long gulp of water, practically finishing off the bottle. “Who won?” Oh, if that ain’t a loaded question, I don’t know what is!
“AJ, the cheater,” Payton grumbles, swaying into Dean’s arms.
“Whatever, harlot! I won fair and square,” AJ defends.
“If you call shaving strokes off the holes as fair and square, duckface, then I guess you did.”
“Did you just call her duckface, Payton?” Meghan asks with a smile and glassy eyes.
“I’m working on my cursing around little ears. I got upset and called someone fuckface once and Bri was there to hear. She repeated it like a friggin’ parrot for a week,” Payton explains.
“Oops!” Meghan giggles.
“Yeah, it was all fun and games until I got a call at work from her sitter,” Dean adds.
“I made that up to you,” Payton coos, not-so-subtly moving in front of him and rubbing her ass on his crotch.
“Yes, you did,” Dean concedes with a laugh.
“Hey, where’s Abby?” I ask casually. Or at least I hope it’s casual.
“Oh, she went for a walk,” AJ tells me.
“She’s been funky lately, Levi. Did you piss her off?” Leave it to Lexi to not sugar coat something.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say with a smile. “I’ll go look for her.”
Throwing goodbyes over my shoulder with a quick wave, I head off toward the darkened beach, away from the lights and the people and the noise. I walk about a hundred yards, scanning the tall grass around the golf course for any sign of her. There’s a few couples every now and then making out and a group of guys bullshitting, but I don’t see my–
Abby.
Another fifty yards or so and the beach is vacant. The crowd is a distant hum, drowned out by the waves crashing on the sandy shores of the beach. The salty air tickles my nose, the almost-full moon casting a glow off the Bay.
That’s when I spot her.
She’s standing along the water, small waves crashing over her bare feet. Plain black sandals dangle from her fingers. Her arms are wrapped around her chest in a protective manner or to help keep herself warm. Moonlight bleeds from her hair, shiny and sleek, as she gazes out at the vast mass of water.
She looks beautiful.
Abby’s always been gorgeous in that simple, girl next door kinda way. She wears minimal makeup and no-thrills, non-revealing clothes. She’s modest and shy and sweet in a way that most women could only dream about. Her heart is worn squarely on her sleeve, and she’d do just about anything for anyone. She’s honestly the best person I know, and I’ve always wondered how I got so lucky.
That’s why I can’t fuck this up.
“Hey,” I say, joining her along the water’s edge.
Abby jumps a bit, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear me approach. “Oh, hey.”
