Beach Volleyball - Part 4
Greg Van Helsing struck the spinning volleyball with his open palm, sending it hurling with blinding speed into the neck of one of the defenders. The ball bounced awkwardly, its spin sending it from Greg’s hand to tall-n-blond’s neck straight into the sand. Greg frowned despite gaining a point to tie up the game at 6 to 6. He’d been aiming for the guy’s face.
“Nice kill!” Peter shouted excitedly.
Greg’s frown eased into a bit of a smirk as he saw the volleyball sized red spot growing between the straps of tall-n-blond’s white tank top. The Straight Up Monsters rolled the ball back under the net and Greg kicked it back to Peter. Peter sent the ball over with a practiced, if not impressive, serve. It was received, passed, and Greg moved into position to block as Peter moved in behind him.
He lost his footing, ankle twisting. The big man toppled. He looked up, spitting sand out of his mouth to see Peter make a miraculous save. Diving face first into the sand with both hands in front of him in a Superman pose, Peter managed to get a hand between the ball and the sand. It popped into the air and Greg shoved himself to an upright position, charging to save the point.
His ankle protested, but Greg had pushed through much greater sprains. Unable to aim properly with his back to the net, Greg just tried to get it to the other side in bounds - bumping with both forearms like Peter had taught him. He turned and watched open-mouthed as the ball landed directly on the net and then rolled onto the Straight Up Monster’s side, landing in the sand with a soft thump.
The second set was neck and neck, each team giving as good as they got. At a 14 to 14 tie, Peter called a timeout. The too-handsome man was slick with sweat, glistening in the sun like some kind of model who’d been carefully sprayed with water during a photoshoot. He was breathing heavily, hands on his knees as Greg approached.
“So…” Peter said as they moved off the playing field to get some much needed water. “Something we didn’t go over yet: when a set is tied, you need 2 consecutive points to win. Win by 2. The set will just go on forever until one team or the other gets a 2 point lead to end it.”
Greg nodded his understanding. He sprayed water over his head with his water bottle and then sucked greedily at its spout. They’d been playing for less than a half-hour but, with all the jumping, running, diving, and pushing himself back up all in loose sand, Greg was already feeling a bit fatigued. It was nothing that would slow him down, he’d weathered hour-long bouts of physical combat with monsters. Still, it made him consider exercising once in a while with Peter.
“If we can make a stop here,” Peter went on, “you’ve got the next serve. How confident are you feeling with your accuracy on the serves?”
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Greg thought about it. He was getting better, more consistent, but still missed his mark almost half of the time. He tilted his head back and forth thoughtfully. “Getting better. Why?”
Peter explained his plan for the serve, and to get this next point. Greg wasn’t sure if he could manage it, but promised to try.
***
Spinning the ball in his hand, Kyle glared with intense focus across the net at Team Monster Hunter’s pretty-boy. The smile on his perfect face pissed Kyle off more than it probably should have. Pretty-boy made eye contact with him through the net. His smile widened, perfectly white teeth on display. He waved. Kyle seethed.
The whistle blew, signaling that play could now resume. Kyle glanced at AJ, his teammate’s focus this set had been off and on. So had Kyle’s if he were honest with himself. Both of them had let the meat-monster and pretty-boy get under their skin. They were garbage. No technique, no practiced teamwork, none of the chemistry he and AJ had. Kyle had to admit they were both stupidly athletic, but that shouldn’t be enough. Not to hang with Kyle and AJ. He tossed the ball into the air, closed his eyes to bring himself back into some semblance of focus, and then opened them with new ferocity as the ball landed in his left hand.
With a toss he’d spent years perfecting, Kyle jumped, hand connecting with the ball perfectly. His jump-floater meandered unpredictably through the air. He nearly counted the point when he saw that meat-monster, not pretty-boy, stepped to receive it. The hairy behemoth’s arms reached out together, bumping the ball into the air. It sailed close to the net, and AJ moved into position to block if it came back to their side. It did not.
Pretty-boy sprinted across the sand, jumped, spinning in the air and managing an impressive set back to meat-monster. Kyle got into position next to AJ as the behemoth moved to spike the ball. As one, Kyle and AJ bent and then jumped, hands in the air. It was an aggressive move leaving nobody behind to receive the ball if it got through the block, but the big guy’s strength was in his ability to hit the ball hard. His aim was mediocre at best. To Kyle’s horrified surprise, meat-monster tipped the ball with barely any force - just enough to get it over all four of Straight Up Monster’s raised hands. It hit the sand before Kyle even landed from his failed block attempt. He swore loudly, a string of words that would cause his mother to wash his mouth out with soap, were she in attendance.
Kyle sourly kicked the ball under the net, his frustration causing him to send it well out of bounds and forcing pretty-boy to chase it down.
“Classy,” meat-monster said, a thick eyebrow raised at Kyle.
Pretty-boy returned with the ball, handed it to his partner, and then walked up to the net smiling at Kyle like they were old friends. The bastard winked at him. Kyle did his best to push down the fury building within him, it was bubbling red hot magma. If it wouldn’t cost their team its chance at the prize money, Kyle may have let it boil over. But it would, and he needed it, so he swallowed his rage.
He and AJ got into position as the meat-monster tossed the ball to serve. The big guy’s powerful serves had been inconsistent, but difficult to receive. During the timeout, Kyle and AJ had agreed to let his serves sail if they were anywhere near the boundaries. Odds were, they’d lost several points attempting to receive his serves near the edge of the playing area that would have gone out just because they had to react immediately to get into position if they wanted any chance at popping the ball up.
Bouncing back and forth on his toes, ready to dart in any direction, Kyle held his breath. The ball was struck. He could tell from the second it left meat-monster’s hairy hand the aim was off. It was low.
With wide, disbelieving eyes, Kyle watched the ball strike the top of the net. In only a fraction of a second, the time it took for Kyle to process and react, the ball rolled over the net - ending the set with a win for Team Monster Hunter.
The toothy grin and follow up wink from pretty-boy, in addition to having just lost a set to a couple of amateurs, pushed Kyle over the edge. With violent intentions, he charged the net.