“That is the most muscular man I have ever seen.”
He made the announcement midway through the morning recap of Love Island.
Intrigued, my cousin and I joined him at the kitchen window.
Jesus.
Outside, a shirtless man wearing an orange bucket hat strolled along the street.
His upper body looked more like armor than human anatomy.
A matching pair of orange short-shorts squeezed his tree-trunk thighs and perfectly rounded glutes.
He laughed at something the woman walking beside him said.
Staring for ten seconds felt sufficient.
Any longer, and I’d be creeping into creep territory.
I walked off to the bedroom, chomping on a handful of Doritos.
Today, I changed into my stretchiest bathing suit.
/
Two days later, I stood knee-deep in the rough waves.
He'd waded further out and motioned for me to join him, but I stayed put.
The night before, I’d convinced myself that sharks infested these waters, so my floppy straw hat and I weren’t going deeper.
Over his shoulder, I spotted Orange Hat treading in neck-high water.
His traps and shoulders looked like leather buoys bobbing in the waves.
He spoke animatedly with a friend, but I couldn’t hear them over the rumbling ocean.
I did, however, see when he took a wave to the face.
Closer to the shoreline, two friends tossed a baseball back and forth.
The guy with his back to me had big, broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist.
A deep, muscular groove traced his spine.
He clapped the ball against his blue glove twice, then wound up and sent it soaring through the cloudless sky.
A misaimed return throw sent the ball splashing into the backwash.
Shoulders took a high-kneed step over an incoming wave, then turned to fish the ball from the water.
Unsurprisingly, the front matched the back.
With his chiseled chest, defined abs, and gill-like obliques, he looked like he’d been pulled right out of Sports Illustrated.
A wave crashed into my shins.
I looked down at the cloud of sandy water swirling around my submerged feet.
I spotted my bloated midsection.
I sucked it in.
/
My cousin groaned from her end of the couch.
I groaned in reply.
She had a glass of Cab Sav in her hand.
I had a glass of Sauvignon Blanc in mine.
Outside, I spotted Orange Hat going on yet another shirtless, pec-prominent mosey around the neighborhood.
Because of course he is.
I wondered what Shoulders was up to this evening.
Probably something shirtless.
I sipped some wine — and instantly felt worse.
Not even my comfiest clothes could contain me now.
Beach Body John never quite checked in.
But there’s always next summer… right?
