Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I gave the wall separating us a critical stare. This was my proposal, and Mister Bossy needed to give me back the control. My mind had conjured a meaningful proposal, then anniversary sex, then planning an intimate, cozy ceremony, something special for the three of us.
Not how it turned out at all. I did as he requested and put the rings in my pocket. I gave myself a moment, staring into the mirror. Overall, my life was coming along just the way I’d always hoped it would.
12: The Climb
Beau/Dash
Beau
My palms itched with anticipation of getting my ass back into the volleyball game. Unfortunately, none of Dash’s friends possessed a single athletic bone in their bodies. What a seriously dumb choice to leave the game in order to let another player take my spot on the team, considering I was the team.
When I left the court, we were up by ten, and my side hadn’t scored another point since then. With me out, Dash, who played on the opposing side, had taken control of the game. His relentless competitive spirit never allowed him to back down. He and I faced off one-on-one several times, and despite his earlier instructions about only playing for fun, each time I bested him, I playfully mouthed I win. He reciprocated the sentiment the few times he managed to score against me.
“Beau.” My mom’s soft voice was the only interruption to penetrate the humming of my unyielding competitive nature. I missed playing sports. I had no desire to return to a university team, but I needed a better outlet to channel the drive inside me. Law students on a beach volleyball afternoon didn’t cut it. Neither did my work at FedEx. Regardless of how quickly I completed my tasks, and generally outperformed everyone else, no other driver cared, making the win not nearly as fun.
I cut a glance back over my shoulder, first at my mom, then beyond. The outdoor, city owned, recreational sports park had several choices to play other than beach volleyball, positioned right off the lake. There was a basketball court, a tennis court, and a jogging trail. Times were reserved online. We still had at least an hour blocked to play volleyball. Weaved throughout the entire park were places to throw out a blanket or chair, and enjoy the sun, or a game, but the rock climbing walls pulled my attention there. Although I’d never officially climbed a rock, I felt I could easily conquer those walls. The highest point couldn’t be more than four stories. With no fear of heights, my challenge would be against myself as I aimed to scale the wall faster and faster.
“You’re not paying attention to me,” she said, resting a hand on my forearm. My thoughts shifted to the unconditional bond we shared. We were also evolving into friendship, causing the lines between parent and child to blur. Since I’d commandeered a decent-size section of the blanket she’d brought to sit on to watch us play, I made a deliberate effort to listen this time—at least after I voiced what I wanted to say.
“You’re pretty, Mom. I like that you’re able to take better care of yourself.”
She squeezed my forearm where her hand still rested, beaming under my praise.
“It’s been easier to take care of myself since we’re no longer living under such an oppressive life.” Over the last six months, she had immersed herself in a bohemian style of life. It fit her new personality like a glove. My mom was tallish, sort of, and wore flowing, loose clothes that somehow still fit her frame while giving off a breezy, delicate vibe.
“You’re still young,” I murmured, not even understanding why I said it.
“Every year you get older, I get older.” Her laughter drew a smile from me. She lifted a finger, pointing toward a man on the other side of the volleyball court. He had arrived several minutes ago. He was older, but not that old, fit, and appeared to come from money based on how he wore his clothes. “Who’s that, son?”
“Dash mentioned Carter was stopping by today to meet everyone. It might be him,” I said, unsure. Just then, this game concluded, my team was defeated, and a sweaty, disheveled Dash hurried toward the man my mom had noticed. She and I watched their interaction as my guy turned and pointed toward us. I raised my hand, feeling uncertain what to do.
“You don’t see someone like him in Southern Alabama.” I agreed with that. His walking shorts were perfectly tailored to his body. The tasteful Hawaiian style shirt hung from his shoulders in a way that accentuated a broad chest. His sun-kissed tan and blond highlights in his chestnut hair appeared naturally acquired. I had discovered my new fashion mentor. I suddenly aspired to exude the same polished yet relaxed style.