Knock Knock

I stretch out luxuriously on the soft beach blanket and let the summer sun warm my skin as I do so. The ocean roars a few hundred feet away, and the slightest breeze tickles my cheek with a light dusting of sand. Just as I was finally relaxing, I heard John calling me.

“Nat, can you turn the radio up?” he asks, and I roll my eyes at him for being so lazy, but stand up and turn up the radio anyway. Just as I turn to sit back down I hear a bunch of guys yelling and am flung face first into the sand by something hard. Dazed, I look up to see a soccer ball sitting next to my head.

“Holy shit, I am so sorry! Schenner can’t play soccer for his life and the ball flew over here,” the guy says, helping me up as he does so.

“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my head as I stoop to pick up the ball.

“Are you sure?” the guy asks, and I look at him before smiling slightly. He’s tall, with short brown hair, intense eyebrows, and dark brown eyes.

“I’m positive. Now, which one of those guys is the one who hit me?” I ask, a small smirk forming on my face. The guy points to a taller brunette whose hair is slightly longer, and who has a light tan on his broad shoulders.

“That would be Schenner,” the guy says.

“Okay cool. I’m Nathalie by the way,” I say, taking aim.

“Zac,” he says as I drop the ball and kick it hard in the direction of the guy he pointed out. I nail him on the back of the head and he topples over just like I did.

“Damn, that was a nice shot,” Zac chuckles, and I smile.

“Thanks,” I say. I hear a few of the guys laughing loudly as “Schenner” picks himself off of the ground. John shakes his head at me from the beach towel, and I flip him the bird, which makes Zac chuckle. A few of Zac’s friends head over, and I look at John for backup. He sits up and adjusts his aviators before nodding at me; I know he’s got my back if I need him.

“That was awesome! I’m James,” the first one to make it over says. I find myself staring up at him; he has to be at least six feet tall. He has dirty blonde hair, huge brown eyes, and a mole on his cheek. For a second, I scrunch my eyebrows up in confusion; these guys look familiar.

“Nathalie, but call me Nat,” I say quietly, accepting the high five he offers halfheartedly. Next, a slightly shorter but equally muscular guy with wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes comes bounding over, a laugh still crossing his face.

“Hey. I’m Matt,” he says, offering me a hand. I shake it and repeat my name again, wondering why these guys are all coming over. Finally, the last three guys in the group make their way over. The first is an overly tall brunette with honey brown eyes. Next is the guy I hit with the ball, “Schenner” as his friends called him, and he’s slightly shorter but still pretty damn tall, and his eyes are a bright blue as well. The last guy over is an almost normal sized redhead with big, greenish brown eyes and a goofy smile on his face.

The first two guys introduce themselves as Sean and Brayden, but the last guy just gives me a quiet nod and a small smile.

And then it hits me.

I’m talking to the young guns of the Philadelphia Flye