SIERRA: Didn’t think you’d remember that
DOM: How could I forget? You looked like you’d just discovered a whole new planet.
SIERRA: Maybe I did. Saltwater and sand hit different, I swear.
DOM: Bet you’re already scheming how to sneak back there.
SIERRA: More like trying not to get sand everywhere next time lol. Rookie move.
DOM: Hey, progress is progress. Soon you’ll be owning beach volleyball like a pro.
SIERRA: Let’s not get carried away. First I gotta survive this scrimmage.
DOM: I’m rooting for you … even if I’m the only one who remembers how totally wide-eyed you were.
SIERRA: That means more than you think. Thanks, Dom.
***
DOM: I’m so fucking proud of you
DOM: They would have been idiots to not invite you to the second camp
I was sitting on the narrow balcony of my apartment with my legs propped on the chipped metal railing. There was an ice pack balanced on my knee, leaking steadily onto the towel beneath it.
The Orlando heat hadn’t let up, even though the sun was setting and turning the sky a washed-out orange. Everything felt thick—the air, the humidity, and the day, which still clung to my skin like sweat I couldn’t rinse off.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
I didn’t expect the message to hit me like that — sharp and clean, straight to the chest. Even though my mind had told me not to care, it was as if my body had been waiting for it.
SIERRA: Thanks!
I typed fast, too fast. But I didn’t backspace.
DOM: Can’t wait until you’re back. I miss you.
I stared at his words. Too long. My fingers tightened around the phone.
The program had been everything I’d hoped it would be — intense, competitive, and full of girls who pushed me to level up every single day.
I was learning from some of the best coaches in the country, sleeping like the dead every night, and waking up sore, my muscles strained like I’d never played volleyball before.
Still … somewhere between the reps and the recovery, there were moments. Quiet ones.
Like now, sitting alone on the balcony with the cicadas humming in the trees, looking at the sky soft with early evening, where something about the silence felt off. Like I was waiting for a stupid text to pop up and make me roll my eyes.
And God help me, I kind of missed the way he always knew how to make me roll my damn eyes.
So maybe —maybe— I missed him, too.
I think.
A little.
Ugh. Whatever.
I tossed the phone onto the table beside me and took another sip of my protein shake, trying not to read the message again. And failing miserably.
