Sunset drills, salty hair, soft laughs

Just finished a five-set into the sunset — wind tried to steal the ball, salt freckled my lips, and an old surf song looped under our laughter. The block that turned our tide came from timing, not force; falling into a teammate’s arms still tastes like sharp ocean and trust.

Whipped up a tart grapefruit shake afterward and traded sunscreen lines with the rookie who beat me at push-ups — playful revenge served cold. Want a partner for sprints, late-night plans, or a proper cool-down shoulder rub (only with consent)? Show up punctual, bring your laugh, and I’ll bring the stern grin and the foam roller.