Deep sea mermaid head-to-head strategy

As Sweet approached, seeing Klein's brow twitch slightly, he turned to look at Wenger.

Klein didn't ignore Sweet's expression at that moment, stood up and pinched his trousers uncomfortably.

At a loss in my heart: Didn't Sweet know that he was there?

Wenger glanced at Klein from the corner of his eye, curled up the corner of his mouth, and said to Sweet: "Today is your birthday. Klein just came back. We missed him very much, so we called him here too."

Ferguson was still holding the maracas and chimed in: "Yes, five players who play maracas can just take turns to be referees."

Sweet didn't say anything, but nodded to Klein.

Klein's heart skipped a beat, and the previous anxiety and uneasiness dissipated in an instant, and his lake-green eyes curved up, shining brightly.

He volunteered and said, "You guys fight first, and I'll be the referee!"

Wenger made a surprised look and asked, "Is it possible?"

Klein nodded heavily: "Of course!"

The others went to take their positions on both sides of the net, leaving only Sweet.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his white upper body.

Contrary to the thin and thin impression he left, Sweet's figure is usually hidden under the clothes, with broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his arms, chest, waist and abdomen are covered with muscles.

The lines of the muscles are smooth and beautiful, and the changes in the curvature between the varicose lines reveal a sense of just right strength. There are no scars on the whole body, white and flawless, like a finely carved statue.

Klein inexplicably felt his mouth dry, and subconsciously stared into it. The hand hanging by his waist trembled, and his fingertips unconsciously rubbed it.

"Sweet! Hurry up!" Ferguson shouted in the distance.

Klein was startled suddenly. After realizing what he was thinking just now, he took two steps back with a look of annoyance on his face.

Sweet didn't notice Klein's reaction, and raised his hand to gather the blond hair on his forehead. A few strands of it fell from between his fingers, and the gilt-like luster almost burned Klein's eyes.

"Here we come." Sweet responded, and let go of her hand, and the gathered blond hair fell out in a messy yet aesthetically pleasing way.

He took a step, stopped as if remembering something, and said to Klein, "I'm sorry to trouble you."

"No, no trouble."

The blue eyes were on Klein's body as soon as they touched him. Sweet turned his head and beckoned to the three people beside the net. He stepped on the beach with his slender legs and walked over.

Klein was fixed in place by Sweet's gaze, and it took him a while to regain focus, and saw the end of Sweet's hair.

The blond hair was fluffed and messed up by the master, scattered behind the head in a full arc, and the tips of the white ears occasionally showed a part following Sweet's footsteps.

Down was the thin back and waistline. When he saw a large area of ​​whiteness, Klein unconsciously held his breath.

He seemed to have seen such a scene somewhere, and Klein couldn't remember it for a while, so he could only trace Sweet's beautiful butterfly bone with his eyes over and over again as if obsessed.

The burning gaze followed Sweet's ridgeline until the shallow dimple sank into the dark blue shorts.

A hot current rushed down, and he was shocked when suddenly a black shadow passed before his eyes.

Then Locke yelled: "Hey! Klein, what are you in a daze for? Pick up the ball!"

It turned out that the black shadow that flew over just now was a sand ball.

Klein retracted his gaze as if covering up, and hurried to pick up the sand ball and throw it on the court.

Waiting for the strange impulse to subside, he trotted back to the edge of the field in a little embarrassment, and concentrated on being a referee.

As Wenger said, Sweet is really good at sports. His coordination is very good, whether he is running or jumping, his eyes and movements when he throws the ball and jumps are called art. It takes strength to keep my eyes from sticking to him.

It can be seen that Sweet often plays with Wenger and the others. When a smash is successful, he will high-five his teammates tacitly.

"Klein! Ball!"

The referee took care of picking up the ball. Locke and Wenger were very powerful and often hit the ball far away. Klein had to hit the ball back and return to the sidelines by himself.

At first, he could still appreciate Sweet's play by being a referee. As the score approached, the strength of both sides gradually increased, and the ball flew farther and farther.

Klein ran back and forth on the beach, and occasionally went to the sea to retrieve the ball. Without the interesting support of playing, he just ran blindly and became exhausted after a while.

Ferguson put a high ball on the field, and Locke glanced at Klein on the sidelines, jumped up and hit the ball violently in the distance, and the ball flew dozens of meters away.

Klein was drinking water. After a few sips, he saw the ball fly away, so he hurriedly put down the water bottle to hit the ball back to the court.

When he returned to the side of the court, Wenger went off to take a rest, panting and said to Klein: "Klein, you go on the court, I will be the referee next."

Klein was about to wipe his hands and exchange with Wenger, but he heard Locke yelling on the field: "Wenger, what are you doing? Come back quickly! I just dunked a few balls, I must take them back!"

Wenger turned his head and said, "Let me exchange with Klein!"

Locke smashed the ball on the beach angrily: "What are you doing, you want to run after dunking someone else's ball?"

Wenger was in a dilemma: "But Klein has helped us pick up the ball for a long time..."

Hearing this, Klein took back the step he took and said with a smile, "It's okay, you can go back and fight. I think it's very interesting for you to fight."

Wenger was a little troubled: "But we asked you to come and play, and you haven't played yet..."

Klein hurriedly said: "I haven't played with Sweet, and I don't cooperate well with him. It's his birthday. I don't want him to be unhappy."

This reason is impeccable, Wenger nodded reluctantly, and said: "Okay, then next time, next time I will be the referee, and you will play."

Locke was urging again, he turned around while running and said with a bright smile: "Then we have a deal!"

Wenger returned to the field and had a few words with Sweet. Klein fantasized that he was the one standing next to Sweet, and when he chased the ball flying far away again, he felt a deep sense of loss.

He didn't have time to think too much, and Wenger's first ball back on the field went into the sea.

"Klein, hurry up!" Locke shouted.

Klein thought as he ran, although he couldn't play with Sweet today, it wasn't all fruitless, at least his relationship with Locke and Ferguson was getting closer.

Every time Locke came back from picking up the ball, he would politely thank him and ask him for help. Maybe they could play together as teammates in the future.

Klein ran a little far away, the ball fell into the sea and was pushed to the sea by the tide, so he had to swim down to the sea to pick it up.

The steam from running under the sun was carried away by the sea water. Seeing the sand ball floating in the sea being pushed further and further away, Klein had no choice but to speed up and chase after it.

He stared at the ball, afraid that he would lose it if he didn't pay attention. He didn't notice that he had already swam far away, and he was almost surpassing his usual return record.

Locke shook the sand on his feet and said impatiently: "It's just picking up a ball, why haven't you come back yet?"

Sweet, who was across the net, looked out to sea and walked around the net to the beach.

Seeing him coming, Locke coughed and said, "Sweet, what are you doing here? Klein picked up the ball right away."

Wenger also hugged Sweet from behind and said, "Yes, we just wait here."

Sweet was silent for a moment, brushed off Wenger's hand, and said, "You guys went too far today."

Locke looked away guiltily, and Wenger pretended to be at a loss: "What is too much? What did we do?"

Ferguson couldn't understand what they said, and said, "What? What did you do?"

In the distance, Klein had already submerged into the sea feebly, and Sweet didn't continue talking. He passed Wenger and Locke, walked to the beach, and jumped into the sea.

The author has something to say:

Wenger: No one knows green tea better than me