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VOLLEYBALL PIER

"Nuts and berries, really?" My mom is standing at the counter. "Emmy, that's hardly a breakfast."

"It's fine mom. Lots of protein. Don't worry I had coffee too." I swing my beach towel over my head.

"Lots of coffee." My dad chimes in. He peeks at me from over the edge of the newspaper.

"Breakfast of champions," I nod.

"Breakfast of squirrels," my dad jokes.

"Are you going to the beach today?" My mom asks, refilling the coffee pot.

"What gave it away? My bikini? My towel?" I laugh.

"Both," my dad says.

"I am going to the pier actually." I try to keep the smile from creeping onto my face. Can't betray myself now. "With Trix and Meg and everyone."

"Mhmm," she says, absentmindedly. But I know she knows.

I know we all know. It's just unspoken. My parents are good with that at least –keeping their comments to themselves.

"Do they all still play volleyball games every Saturday?" Mom asks.

"Yup. Hanging with Trix and Meg after. I'll be back later tonight." I give her a quick kiss before leaving the kitchen.

"Have fun," My dad calls behind me.

"Thanks!"

The pier is another thing that hasn't changed in this town. The entire promenade is packed. Music from the arcade spills onto the beach. It's just like I remember it:

Sand hot as fuck.

Cabanas lined along the promenade.

Striped umbrellas from 24 different hotels and B&Bs.

Coolers full of inconspicuous beers.

Kids crying because the sand is hot as fuck.

Waves lolling along the shoreline.

Shit it's glorious.

I pay the $5 for my beach tag. I miss being a seasonal tag holder. I pin it to my tote. That's right TOTE. I'm #trending.

I join Trix and Meg standing in the shade behind the lifeguard tower. Stand #6.

"Hi." I announce my presence. The tote slips from my shoulder.

Alex jumps down from the stand and lands next to us.

I shrug out of my white crochet dress-beach cover-up crossover hybrid. It doesn't know what its life is. Nor do I. I enjoy having things in common with my clothes.

"So jealous of your yoga bod." Meg says.

"Yoga and vegan bod." Trix corrects her, slipping out of her denim shorts.

Yoga. Veganism. Totes. I'm a walking trend addict.

"Like you two have anything to bitch about." I roll my eyes.

I throw my identity crisis riddled cover-up at them. Trix really does look and move like a mermaid, languid and graceful, slender and beautiful with generous womanly attributes. Meg is also thin, but more in a sporty jock kind of way. Both have black bikinis on.

I'm wearing my new blue triangle bikini. It's the only one I brought with me from Seattle. I untie the halter straps and tuck them under my arms. The spray nozzle on the sunscreen is busted, so I unscrew the cap. It smells like someone smashed open a coconut and out poured the remnants of a melted orange creamsicle.

"Match starts in fifteen." Trix tosses me the volleyball.

"Everyone else is walking down now." Meg follows.

I instantly perk up and look at the entrance. My eyes scan the crowd of tan beachgoers until I find him.

I quickly look away. Play it cool I remind myself. So he's a hot boy. I've had plenty of hot boys. Cute dimples of my most recent conquest come to mind. What is my problem?

Brooks is the first to stop at the lifeguard tower. He's looking only at me.

"Hi."

"Brooks," I say. Gotta be curt. Play it cool. Pretend you forgot all about seeing him last night. Brooks who?

"Nice suit." He says. Something about the way he casually checks me out drives me wild.

"You too."

Tiny sea turtles are swimming on his trunks. He doesn't bother to wear a shirt. He doesn't need to.

All the girls thank him for it. I sure do.

"Have fun last night?" He asks.

"Sure." I nod.

"Crazy how the same it is, right?" Brooks asks. What does he want me to admit? That part of all this feels like we never left? Like we're still together?

I remember he hasn't exactly been back either. Or at least, I don't think he comes back often. Still, I want to rip his hair out to make the smile disappear from his face.

I LOATHE him.

"Like we never left," I shrug. There. I said it.

Can't help but see Trix smirking at me. She knows too much for her own good.

"OK, who is ready?" Travis shouts, racing onto the sand-court.

"Let's make teams!" Nate follows him.

"I call captain!" Alex shouts.

"You are always captain," Meg calls him out. "Let Emmy and Brooks do it. They're guests."

"Guests?" I laugh.

"She's not wrong. Captain," Trix fake salutes me.

I roll my eyes and follow her onto the sand court.

Someone connects their phone to the speaker pod next to the water *beer* cooler. Nice spot in the shade of the lifeguard stand. First serve and first song up. Matt Nathanson's Used to Be blares from the sidelines. Universe you sly dog you. You're fucking working overtime.

So adding this to my mental playlist.

We divide into teams and spend the next three hours battling on the court, our feet pads burning on the sand. Katie, Nate, Emmy and Alex versus Trix, Travis, Meg and Brooks. I got fucking great at volleyball. I was never terrible, but my newfound flexibility has improved my game. Nate lifts me up for killer spike after killer spike. Travis is thinner than the other boys but it's deceiving. He's almost the best one playing. Then there's Brooks.

After several rounds and several beers, we migrate from the sand to the water.

"How about Chicken? For old time's sake?" Travis asks, colliding with a breaking wave.

"I'm in." Alex rushes into the water. "Come on, Katie."

She runs in behind him.

"You're on!" Meg follows.

Mostly everyone follows into the water, just above waist deep on the guys. My eyes dart first to Trix and then to Brooks. Trix, because of the oddly squealish sound she makes at the suggestion of Chicken. Brooks because I'm stuck wondering if he's thinking the same thing as me. We were always the best partners. Always crushed the competition.

"Pair up!" Meg shouts.

Oh fuck, Meg.

Slowly, we all pair off. Trix and Travis, Meg and Nate, Alex and some chick named Katie. Me and...

"You good with this?" Brooks stands between me and the water. It's hardly at my ankles.

I shrug. "Do I have a choice?"

"We could... not play," he smiles awkwardly. I'm not entirely used to this him. "But it'd be a shame to break our winning streak now."

I roll my eyes and walk right past him into the water. I turn around to see him. "Keep up!"

He laughs and tucks his hair behind his ears. Brooks turns to swim out and I follow after him, tossing my hair into a wild bun beehive on my head.

I climb onto Brooks's shoulders and I'm alert to the fact that he is so close. We are so close. He wraps his arms around my legs to lock me in place. They slide slowly up. I respond by lightly running my hand through his hair under the pretense of clearing his face. I can't see the front of him, but I can imagine the stupid grin sprawling across his face. It probably looks a lot like mine right now.

I cling to Brooks as desperately as the drops of water searching for skin to land on. Yea, fuck me. As sure and definite as the waves crashing against the sandy beach, he tosses me from his shoulders and dunks me in the water and easily swings me over his head. One. Two. Three. Fight after fight we reclaim our old title of champs. Then it turns guys against girls. The guys have to get the girls off their shoulders.

Everyone dunking everyone.

I wrap my legs around his waist, our fronts basically glued together, and hold onto his wet shoulders. It takes every single bit of will power to resist reaching up and kissing him. There's a look in his eyes that I can't place. But again, I'm sure his eyes probably look a lot like mine right now. And I know what I feel.

It's quite a marvel how we can so easily fall back into our old lives. Into old forgotten versions of ourselves. Time doesn't need to change everything. It just wants to.