The Twins & Me: Summer Vacation

Kimono

It's nearly dinner by the time we pull back into Malibu. My feet are killing and I'm starving to death, but I see Cherry in a whole new light and she's one of the most amazing women I've ever met—right behind my own mother and Lila, of course.

After we drop Remi and Lana off, helping them unload their bags and making sure no one's stuff gets switched, Cherry makes a quick stop at an ice cream stand near one of the piers.

"The best ice cream in California," she informs me, handing me a strawberry cone.

I can't argue.

We're just crunching on the remains of the waffle cones, mouths chilled and creamy from the ice cream, when we pull into the driveway. As Cherry cuts the engine and starts to get out of the car, I lay a hand on her arm.

"Thank you," I say.

She smiles at me, and doesn't need to say a word.

Felix comes out of the house and helps us with the bags. "You two have quite the haul!" he says, way too excitedly considering the massive dent Cherry must've made in their bank account.

Or maybe she didn't make a dent at all.

"Where are the boys?" Cherry demands. "They should come out and help."

Her husband kisses her on the cheek. "Bastian left a few hours ago, and the twins have been down on the beach, sulking."

"Sulking?" Cherry huffs.

Felix nods, throwing me a wink. "You've had their girl all day, what else are they supposed to do?"

Cherry rolls her eyes and gives me a knowing look, as if her point has been made. "You should go and find them, Wren, make sure they haven't drowned themselves in the ocean."

I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. We manage to get the bags inside and Cherry assures me she'll separate our stuff and leave mine in my room while I go out to find the twins.

So I set out the back, kicking my shoes off and leaving them on the deck. The sand feels incredible on my sore feet. The sun is hanging low in the sky, but not quite sunset, yet. The beach is pretty empty down our end, but to the right, where there are more houses, I spot more people, so I make my way towards them.

I let the water lap my heels and enjoy the breeze coming off the waves. Eventually I make out a public section of the beach, complete with restrooms, showers, benches—and volleyball nets.

Someone has a radio playing and as I get closer I see there's a game going on; tall figures diving and spiking a ball. Two familiar backs stand out at once.

I watch in complete and utter confusion as Arlo and Ollie kick up sand, playing the game like it's the most natural thing in the world. They bop the ball back and forth, over the net and to the other three people on their team—two girls and a guy. They dive for the ball, getting right under it to keep it in the air when it would realistically hit them in the face.

I come to a stop behind the boundary line, just a carved line in the sand, and don't even care that my mouth is hanging open because the twins look like Greek gods; toned backs, sun-kissed and shimmering with sweat, hair wild with salt water and wind, barefoot and tense. They've got their shirts tucked into the back pockets of their shorts, and Arlo's got his hair up in a bun. The bun.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Then Arlo sets up the white ball for Ollie to spike—something I've only ever seen in movies. When he leaps into the air and palms it, it comes crashing down on the other side of the net, right through the outstretched arms of two other guys to make a crater in the sand. A small crowd is gathered, watching, and everyone erupts at the point.