P&P

Chapter Four

"Remind me why we're here, again?" I asked Lydia two days after our hang out at Sushi Bar. We were at the beach, racing down the sloping sand in our flip flops and bikinis (well, Lydia was in a bikini while I had a cover up) in a hurried manner. I was getting breathless from all the speed-walking.

"Because you owe me for embarrassing me in front of Mark the other night." Lydia said, making her way down the sand. I resisted rolling my eyes. I was saving her, but did she see it?

Of course not.

"I thought Cat said his name was Andrew..." I said, giving her a pointed look. Lydia shrugged, and I continued. "But I mean specifically, why are we here at the beach?" I was not a fan of beaches, or water of any kind. Especially since we ran out of sunscreen last week. Not only do I burn easily, but places like beaches and pools are just chock-full of the rudest people on the planet. You can literally get trampled on and no one will bother to help you up, let alone apologize.

"Because some guy told me about this event the other night. It's beach soccer! AKA, hot guys running around shirtless on the beach!" Lydia squealed and I resisted an eye roll. As we walked down further, I could finally make out a small set of bleachers. Every seat was taken by girls no older than twenty-two.

"Let's sit in the sand! We'll be closer to the action anyway." Lydia winked and began setting down her towel.

"Are you sure we won't get trampled here?" I asked her, sitting down next to her reluctantly.

"We're behind the line. Lighten up, sis! We're about to be surrounded by hot shirtless men. What else could you ask for?"

"Not to be trampled on."

"Will you really mind if a hot shirtless guy with killer abs falls into your lap?" She gave me an uh-duh look, but I wasn't biting.

"Yes. I really would."

Before Lydia could call me a prude, the game began. Despite myself, one guy in particular caught my eye. He looked like the typical beach boy, but there was something else about him that caught my eye. His hair was light brown and his eyes were bright green, captivating me from the sidelines.

"Ooh, looks like someone's caught your eye." Lydia noticed, nudging me with her elbow.

"Normally all these guys would blur together into one macho chauvinist beach jock, but something seems kind of off about him." I told Lydia. I didn't know if she'd be able to see it, but then her eyes widened.

"Did you see his tattoo?"

He turned, and I saw a tattoo of a bird in flight on the back of his right shoulder. Unlike most tattoos that ranged from tramp stamps to threats to the world, his actually looked symbolic.

"You think it means something to him?" I asked Lydia.

"It sure would bring up the sensitive angle in him." She noticed. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"What makes you think he has an angle?"

"Uh, for one, he's a guy." Lydia sassed. "And since when did we reverse? I'm supposed to be the one making excuses to pounce on guys and you're supposed to be lecturing me about lecherous monsters with seedy tattoos!"

She had a point.

"Wow. Point taken." I told her. We stopped talking for a while and focused on the game. And as much as I'd love to tell you what happened, I'm not big on soccer. Beach soccer less so. But what I can tell you is that I hardly took my eyes off the guy with the bird tattoo.