She stands next to the hammock for a heartbeat, hands on her hips, disappointed she won’t get to show off whatever football skills she’s got.
I believe she can throw a ball, but I’m incapable of tossing one gently—they’re like rocket missiles, comin’ in hot. I refuse to take the chance that I’ll pelt her too hard.
“You can be mad at me all you want. I’m not takin’ any chances.”
Her response is to freeze me out, silently brooding beside the hammock, killing whatever chill vibe I had before she came outside to pester me.
Readjusting my weight, I try to move my body into a different position, the creaking from the wooden deck railings shifting.
I have the hammock diagonally in the far corner of the back porch, out of the way, dangling a respectable foot off the ground. Shielded by the sun from the garage on one side of me and the house on the other, it’s the perfect location if I can’t be beneath the old oak trees.
I shift again.
Creak.
The wood groans.
“Would you stop moving? You’re going to go crashing to the ground,” Posey tells me, biting down on her bottom lip. “The deck rail just moved.”
“It’s fine,” I say with the utmost authority. “Itestedit.”
“You tested it,” she deadpans. “And how exactly did you do that?”
“Put all my weight on it.”
She laughs at me. “Oh—you put all your weight on it. By weight, do you mean you leaned on it with your hands and decided it would hold you?”
Yes. “No.”
“Liar.”
“Why are you still standin’ there blocking the sun? I’m trying to read.”
Her answer is a soft snort. Posey wavers a few seconds before turning her back on me and walking back into the house with a little wave.
“Enjoy your sex novel.”
“It’s not a sex novel!” I shout out, shifting again, unable to get comfortable now that I’ve been soundly interrupted. “It’s a history novel!”
Sex novel?
Who even calls it that?
Pfft.
Ridiculous.
I thumb through the book, trying to find my page, irritated that I didn’t dog-ear to my spot when she rudely interrupted, distracted by her needling, attempting to get re-relaxed.
Creak.
Groan.
Before I can open the book back to chapter one, my ass is planted firmly on the ground, head hitting the hard wooden floor, banister rail falling, the whole kit and caboodle crumpling around me.
Shit.
I stare up at the open sky from my back on the ground, birds chirping around me, treetops framing my view.