“The what?”
He repeated it, but it didn’t sound any more appealing the second time around. She couldn’t very well drop her end of the cooler and run off, though. The thing was even heavier than it had looked.
“I guess every sport needs cheerleaders,” she said brightly.
“You have to play.”
Great. “Can’t you just call it volleyball? Does it have to be a death match tournament?”
“Of doom. It’s more fun when it’s a death match tournament of doom.”
It took nearly half an hour to get everybody in place and it was too highly organized for Liz to slip away without anybody noticing. Chairs were lined up along the edge of the playground, close enough to the trees to catch some shade. Andy and Rose were playing, as was Uncle Leo, but Mary was sitting out so she could help Brianna cheer. Emma got to sit out because of Johnny, and Paige was, of course, excused from all activities involving doom thanks to her pregnancy, which was probably the worst-kept secret the family had ever not kept.
Everybody else, even little Lily, who was trash-talking her family members across the net like a pro in her squeaky little voice, was on the field. It started out fun enough, but it didn’t take long for their competitive natures to kick in and the game got fierce.
Kevin, who was hovering over his daughter like a linebacker, lifted Lily into the air and they both laughed when she hit the ball back over the net hard enough to get it by Rose.
“Score!” the little girl shouted.
They all laughed as they rotated positions. It was Liz’s turn to serve and she got it over the net, though just barely. Since she hadn’t played volleyball since high school, she considered it quite the accomplishment. Sean popped it up in the air and she sucked in a breath as Mitch launched himself in the air and slammed the ball back, right at Drew.
Drew turned so it slapped his shoulder instead of his face since the velocity was so high he’d never return it, and Liz heard the gasps around them. Fierce was one thing. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.
She watched Drew shake it off, picking up the ball and tossing it over the net to Beth, whose turn it was to serve.
But in the next volley, Drew had the opportunity to spike the ball back at Mitch. He didn’t hit him, but Mitch’s awkward attempt to save it made the rest of them laugh as he hit the grass. He came up red-faced.
“Time out!” Mary called from the sidelines. “Time for everybody to hydrate.”
Liz was thankful for the cooling-off period her aunt had obviously seen the need for, but she didn’t think it would be enough. There was a lot of laughter and teasing as they drank, but the two guys stood on opposite sides of the group, drinking their water in silence until it was time to go back to the game.
There were some whistles and catcalls in the audience as Drew and Mitch both peeled their damp T-shirts over their heads, but Liz saw it for what it was. She wouldn’t be surprised if they started grunting and pounding their chests. Maybe pawing the ground. Idiots.
The two men engaged in a stare-down while they waited for their teams to get into position, and Liz wanted to cover her eyes when she realized it was Mitch’s turn to serve. Drew’s body was tense and ready for whatever her brother was going to dish out to him but, before anything could happen, Liz broke position and went to Drew. She put her hand at the small of his back so he looked at her.
“Stop,” was all she said.
The ferocity cleared from his expression and she felt the tension leave his back. “I’m not doing all the work here. I think it’s time for Bobby to make a big play.”
Everybody chuckled as Mike and Lisa’s youngest flexed his muscles, posing for the cheering section on the sidelines. Before going back to her position, Liz made eye contact with Mitch and was pleased to see he looked a little chagrined.
The rest of the game—or death match tournament of doom, she reminded herself—passed in a blur of sweat, shouts, laughter and curse words that morphed halfway through being spoken into non-curse words that didn’t fool anybody. The littlest ones and the older folks wandered to the sidelines as the volleys went on, but there was no quitting until the boys were done.
Finally Mitch’s team scored the winning point, although Liz wasn’t sure the scoring system was entirely accurate, and they all walked over to the shade and collapsed in the grass.
Liz flopped down next to Drew and rested her head against his shoulder while handing him one of the water bottles she’d grabbed as they passed the cooler. “Here. Drink.”
Danny, Mike and Lisa’s second son, pointed his drink at them. “Hey, you guys are both really tall. Your kids will be great at volleyball.”
Liz felt the heat blooming on her cheeks as an awkward silence greeted his words. Talk about zero to sixty.
“Depends on who they inherit their skills from,” Drew said. “If you know what I mean.”