First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“I still don’t understand why you tortured him all day. You know you wanted to say yes to that dare the minute he asked you.”

“Of course I did.” I scoff, and the girls all start pushing themselves up from the ground. “I would have said yes the second he asked me on the beach.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you?” Wren screeches, smacking me on the arm.

“Uh, because I have some pride. And I’m easy, but I’m not that easy.”

“And because you had entirely too much fun giving him hell all day. You should have just agreed to it.”

“I don’t even know what it is!” I complain, throwing my hands up in the air as the girls start making their way toward us. “And yeah, I’m sad he left, but I’m pissed off more that I never got to find out what this favor even was. Of course I was going to say yes. After I left him sitting at the bar at SIG last night, I fully planned on finally giving in the next time I saw him. And then I woke up this morning to find out he went back to the mainland.”

You know—when I casually walked into the hotel lobby after my second jog past and asked LaVon Barber who runs the front desk if he’d been down yet.

Only to be told he checked out hours before.

Uuuggghhh, why am I letting a man dictate my happiness? This is not me! Put him out of your mind! You kept turning him down, he finally got fed up, and now you can just move on once and for all.

“Ms. Flanagan, tell us again about how you beat Quinn Bagley at cornhole! Jenny was late to practice and didn’t get to hear it.”

“No! Tell us about how he was so sweet and ordered you pizza when you were hangry!”

“Come on, the best part was when he held her hair back for her when she was sick! I cannot even right now just thinking about it!”

“I just want to hear her describe how he smelled like taking a hot shower in the cool, fresh mountain air, after chopping cedar, on a leather couch, next to a crackling fire!”

Jesus, I really should have cooled it with the analogies on that one.

I probably should have known that coming to this practice after being the talk of social media for the last week would mean a group of teenage girls would want to do nothing more than ask me hundreds of questions about Quinn. I gave up trying to deny the relationship, especially after his world tour of the island yesterday, popping up wherever I was, and getting tongues wagging all over the place. I figured it wouldn’t be long now until he did some sort of press conference or released some sort of statement denying everything, so people would finally move on.

Since no one would listen to me anyway, I didn’t figure there would be any harm in giving the girls something to calm their curiosity and get them to stop badgering me. I felt like it was important to make sure he didn’t sound like an asshole in any way, because he really wasn’t. Unfortunately, once I started talking about Quinn and all of his good qualities, I might have gotten carried away and went a little overboard before I pulled myself together and called an order to practice.

Whatever. It could happen to anyone.

With my usual ear-piercing whistle, I finally get the girls quieted for a few seconds.

“Okay, that’s enough! This is why you guys couldn’t get it together at practice tonight. Your heads are in the clouds with a quarterback who does not play for the team you cheer for and who you’re supposed to be perfecting this dance for,” I remind them, refusing to think about how much my head has been in the clouds tonight, promising myself I will tell Kristen that I will fill in for her as much as she wants, to make up for the disservice I gave the girls with my own stupid, quarterback obsession.

“One more question, and then I swear we’ll never ask you another one again,” Madison, the captain of the squad, says, stepping forward from the cluster of girls. “It’s just so cool that you’re dating a quarterback for the Professional Football League! Like, it just doesn’t get any cooler than that! You’re going to meet so many famous people. I’m so jealous.”

“Hey, you’ve met my husband!” Wren smiles at the peppy seventeen-year-old.

“Eh, he’s all right. I mean, it’s baseball. Kind of boring.”

“My son wouldn’t be happy if I killed her, right?” Wren whispers as she leans in close to my ear.

“Probably not. She’s a senior, and the homecoming queen, and he’s but a lowly freshman. Be cool, Mom,” I whisper back before addressing Madison. “Fine. One more question, and then I never want to hear his name out of any of your mouths again.”