Below the Barrel (Saltwater Springs #2)

5. Maliah | Victoria, Australia

FIVE

MALIAH | VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA

KOA:

Koa:

Sweet dreams.

My heart starts to pound in my chest as I stare at those two words, reading them in his voice in my head. When we were together, there was never a night he didn’t text me those two words, even if we were right beside each other. It was a nightly ritual.

I feel my body become hot as memories of him whispering those words in my ear start to swirl around my mind. He’d lean over, his lips brushing against my ear as I’d start to fade into sleep after a night of crazy sex, and he’d say those two words before gently kissing a trail from my ear to my collar bone.

I quickly lock my phone when I realize I’m panting, and an unbearable heat is building between my thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to tame my breathing and think of anything but Koa, but it doesn’t work as the need grows stronger and I shoot out of my bed and run straight for the shower, turning the water on the coldest setting before stripping out of my pyjamas and jumping in.

I refuse to let Koa Foster weasel his way back into my heart.

As if he ever left.

My eyelids feel heavy today as we tour around the Bushland Wildlife Animal Sanctuary in Victoria. It’s another excursion, as Koa put it, for entertaining television. I probably would have enjoyed this one a lot more than the hot air balloons yesterday if I wasn’t so exhausted. I follow the group towards the Crested Cockatoos enclosure which has a handful of colourful birds.

“What did you think about the hot air balloons yesterday?” Charles asks.

He’s been glued to my side ever since Koa and I arrived with the rest of our production crew, and I didn’t miss the scowl on Koa’s face as he watched us before wandering off to talk to a group of other surfers. I was partly relieved to see him go, but also partly sad.

Relieved because after the mind game he tried to play with me last night with his stupid text message, keeping me up until nearly three in the morning, I don’t want to be anywhere near him until I can sort out my thoughts. But sad because as much as the distance helps me think more clearly, a part of me just wants to be close to him. That same part of me is the reason I couldn’t leave the Shredders after we broke up.

“Maliah,” Charles sings my name, “are you with me?”

I glance at Charles, remembering he asked me a question.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just a bit tired. The hot air balloons were…interesting. It was my first time on one.”

“Really? Well, when you visit me in France one day maybe we can go again, just the two of us.”

I give him a forced smile before my eyes begin searching for Koa. Charles is nice, but he’s not my type. Do I even have a type?

Koa’s my type.

I bite my lip as punishment for even thinking that, for letting Koa sneak his way back into my thoughts. My eyes find him, surrounded by the rest of the female surfers who are twirling strands of their hair while they look up at him flirtatiously. I frown at them, annoyed that they even think they have a chance with him.

Koa has higher standards than that.

I look up at Koa to see if he’s enjoying the attention, but I never expected to find his eyes staring back at me. Chills rack through my body as I hold his gaze, my face and chest growing warm. Why is he still able to get this physical reaction out of me?

“Are you cold? You have, how do you say, chicken skin?”

I turn to look at Charles with a confused expression.

“Pardon?”

“In France, we call it chair de poule . I think that translates to chicken skin.” He grabs onto my arm and points at my goosebumps. “It’s bumpy, like a plucked chicken’s skin.”

I stare at him, blink twice, and gently pull my arm out of his grip.

“I’m fine. I’m going to go get a closer look at some of these animals, I’ll see you at the winery for dinner.”

I give him a small wave, ignoring the confusion on his face, as I walk away from the group and toward the wooded Brushtail Possum enclosure. I squint as I peer into the enclosure trying to find one, but all I see is dense foliage and large tree hollows. I let out a sigh as I rest my forehead against the fence, my mind replaying two words on repeat.

Sweet dreams.

"Did you know that brushtail possums can rotate their back feet nearly one hundred eighty degrees?"

I glance up and it feels like the world freezes when my eyes meet Koa’s. He’s smiling down at me mischievously before looking back toward the Possum enclosure.

“So fascinating,” he whispers to himself.

I swallow nervously before forcing myself to look back toward the deserted area.

“I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about possums,” I mutter.

He chuckles before pointing at an information sign in front of me that states interesting facts about the species, including how their back feet rotate. I roll my eyes before shooting him a glare which only causes his smile to grow. I stare at his smile, dazzled by it. It’s rare to see Koa smile and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

You’re digging your own grave, Maliah.

I tear my eyes away, focusing on where the possums should be, but a slight movement in the branches above catches my attention. I watch, fascinated, as a creature with thick, grey fur makes its way down a tree trunk, back feet rotated, and bushy tail trailing behind it. It slowly and carefully makes its way to a feeding station and gently picks up fresh fruit with its small paws.

“Well, would you look at that,” Koa says gently, his eyes tracking the possums’ movements.

“Why are you here, Koa?”

He looks at me again, shrugging. “Same reason as you; it’s required of me.”

“No,” I shake my head, “why are you here, next to me, instead of with the rest of the group?”

Instead of with the other girls, is what I really want to say, but I bite back the words.

It’s not my place to get jealous anymore.

“I could ask you the same,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he eyes Charles who is standing apart from the rest of the group and watching us with an expression full of envy.

“I just needed some space to think,” I mutter, returning my attention to the hungry possum.

“About?”

“You,” I say before I can stop myself.

He shifts on his feet, turning to face me as he leans his shoulder against the fence.

“You’re thinking about me?” Koa asks in a flattered tone.

I roll my eyes before I mirror his pose, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Why did you text me that last night?”

“Text you what?” he asks, brows furrowed. “Sweet dreams?”

Hearing him say those two words out loud sends a bolt of electricity through my body, and I’m left feeling both turned on and pathetic. He studies me, as if he can read my mind, before he reaches across, closing the distance between us, and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

“Did it keep you awake, princess?”

I close my eyes at the sound of my nickname. He’s the only person who’s ever called me that and the sound of it breaks my heart all over again.

“Don’t call me that,” I whisper.

“Okay,” he says, simply.

I open my eyes and find that he’s still studying my expressions, head tilted to the side. He turns to look at the possums before that mischievous smile creeps its way back onto his lips.

“Maybe I should call you possum instead,” he says, nodding in their direction.

I turn my head to look at the hungry possum only to see it’s now puffed up, nearly twice its size, as its back arches like it’s about to pounce. I notice another possum nearby, inching closer to the feeding station.

The first possum opens its mouth, revealing its sharp, pointed teeth as a low, chilling hiss escapes from its mouth. It begins to growl and hiss as the other possum nears closer. I watch as its bushy tail begins to flick aggressively behind it, a clear sign of its agitation.

“Yup, I think possum is a much better nickname for you,” Koa says, nodding as he continues to watch the face-off. “You look just like that when you’re angry.”

I clench my teeth, my lips pulling back, as I turn to glare at him. He glances at me from the corner of his eye before snorting.

“Basically twins. Nearly identical.”

He turns his back to me and walks away, joining the rest of the group, as I seethe behind him.

Orchard and Oak is the most upscale winery I’ve ever been to. The floors are polished oak while the walls are a beautiful, pale stone. With exposed beams, the open concept of the place feels timeless. I sit at the large bar at the back of the room, near the exit doors, on the world’s most comfortable plush bar stools.

“Another top up, miss?” The bartender offers as I place my empty wine glass down on the bar.

“Go for it,” I say, trying my best to sound sober.

He smiles obliviously as he refills my glass for the third time tonight. I glance over my shoulder, watching Koa have the time of his life at his dining table surrounded by the other female surfers. He smiles politely at them as they talk, almost every girl twirling a strand of their hair between their fingers.

It makes me sick.

I grab my glass off the bar and stumble upright as I hop off the barstool. Without another glance his way, to spare my own feelings, I clumsily make my way toward the outdoor seating area. Taking a seat on the wooden bench just outside the dining hall doors, I bring the glass back to my lips for another sip as I admire the carefully manicured gardens of the estate. The neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant coloured flower beds remind me of my father’s home in Portugal. It's been years since I last visited him there.

I push thoughts of him out of my mind, not wanting him to deflate the small buzz I have going on tonight, as I spot a small pond with a rustic wooden bridge in the distance.

The perfect place for a peaceful stroll, I decide.

I’ve been searching for a quiet moment alone all day.

I stand up, and begin walking toward the charming pond, noticing the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers and fresh grass surrounding me on my way. I’m grateful that the cameras have been put away for the night and the microphones removed from my clothing. It would have been so embarrassing to have myself recorded in this state.

I don’t know why two simple words have me so rattled, but I need to figure it out before tomorrow’s competition, or I’m screwed. I need to stay focused for the waves ahead, but I can’t do that with thoughts of Koa running wild in my head.

I make it to the bridge, the wood creaking softly beneath me as I walk to the centre of it. Glancing down at the pond, I notice the water lilies floating around the waters that reflect the surrounding trees. It’s so peaceful and I finally feel like I can think.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the sounds around me. The gentle ripples of the water, the rustling of leaves, and the soft buzzing of insects in the surrounding grass. A feeling of calm finally washing over me, that is until I feel a hand rest over mine and the wine glass is taken from me.

My eyes fly open as I look over at the wine thief, ready to give them a piece of my mind, but the words get stuck in my throat as my eyes land on Koa. I watch as he brings my glass to his lips and drinks the rest of my wine in one gulp, his eyes never leaving mine, before he places the glass on the edge of the bridge railing.

“You and I both know you shouldn’t be this drunk the night before a competition,” he says disapprovingly. He holds out a water bottle for me to take, but I muster up the angriest look I can as I stare back at him.

“Take it,” he says sternly, “and drink it, or so help me God, Maliah.”

“Or. What,” I challenge.

He doesn’t say anything at first as we continue our stare-off, the tensions between us crackling. In one swift movement, he has me thrown over his shoulder, and we’re on the move, walking past the dining hall and toward the cars.

“Put me down,” I shout, smacking his back.

It earns me a slap on my ass that has heat rising to my face and my tongue silenced.

“You’re being very bad tonight, princess.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart pounding in my chest as I feel the heat spread from my face, down my chest, and in between my thighs. His hands gripping the back of my legs feels like fire against my skin and I almost can’t take it.

He opens a car door and gently lowers me into the passenger’s side before he reaches across and buckles me in, his hand brushing along my thigh, leaving a fire trail beneath my skin.

“I’m fully capable of buckling my own seatbelt, Koa.”

He smirks before shutting the car door and walking around the front to the driver’s side. He slides in effortlessly, adjusting the seat to suit his long legs better before he pulls out of the pebbly parking lot and onto the dark country roads. It’s a twenty-minute drive back to the hotel, and I have no idea how I’m going to survive it.

I tighten both of my hands into a fist, my nails digging in my palms, as I try to mentally distract myself with anything other than Koa for the rest of the drive, but I’m overly aware of his presence and constant glances my way. I’m certain when I get out of this car, I’ll be leaving a puddle in my wake.

Twenty minutes feels more like an hour by the time we reach the hotel, and it’s not until I’m stomping down the hallway, Koa in tow, that I realize I left my bag at the winery. I freeze, mid step, Koa narrowly avoiding crashing into me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyeing me as his brows pull together in concern.

“My key card is in my bag,” I say, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Okay, where’s your bag? Did you leave it in the car?”

I shake my head, meeting his gaze. “I left it at the winery.”

Understanding flashes across his face as he stares at me before glancing at his watch.

“The front desk is closed for the night,” he says, raising his eyes back up to mine. “No one will be back to get you a spare key until the morning.”

My throat tightens as panic begins to set in. Normally, I wouldn’t be this concerned, I’d probably suggest driving back to get my bag or calling someone there to bring it back with them, but right now I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. Especially around Koa.

“Sleep in my room tonight,” he suggests.

“Excuse me?” I shout. “Is this your sneaky way of trying to get me into the same bed as you, Koa Foster?”

He sighs before rolling his eyes. “I can sleep on the floor, Maliah. Let’s go, it’s already late and we both need at least some sleep before tomorrow.”

He walks to his door, swiping his key card and holding the door open for me. I bite my lip nervously before finally giving in and brushing past him on my way into his room. I stand by his bed awkwardly and silently as he tosses his jacket and card onto a chair before heading to his suitcase and pulling out an oversized T-shirt which he hands to me.

“There’s mouthwash in the bathroom,” he says, turning his back to me as he begins to strip out of his clothes.

I’m tempted to watch, but I know that images of Koa’s body will only keep me awake longer than I hope to be. So, instead, I turn my back to him and head to his bathroom to change out of my clothes and into his large T-shirt, gargling mouthwash as I stare at my reflection.

I hate that this shirt smells like him. Everything in this room smells like him. I can’t even pretend to be in my own room even if I tried. He’s everywhere here. I spit out the mouthwash and make my way back to the room, finding him shirtless and in grey sweatpants.

Not the grey sweatpants.

I practically whimper as I try my best to look anywhere but at him as I climb into his bed, hiding myself under the sheets as he heads to the bathroom to brush his own teeth. Tonight is going to be pure torture.

Five minutes later he walks out of the bathroom and turns off the light, darkness swallowing my vision. I hear him trying to find a comfortable spot on the floor and I say something I’m sure I’ll regret later.

“I’m not going to have you sleep on the floor the day before our competition, Koa. Get in bed.”

He doesn’t answer at first, the room filling with silence aside from our breathing, but after a few seconds I hear him get up and the bed dips as he crawls under the sheets beside me. I try to stay as far to the edge of my side as I can to make sure no part of us touches.

“I can hear your heart pounding in your chest,” he whispers after nearly three minutes.

“You frustrate me incredibly,” I mumble back, trying to play off the erratic beating as anger.

“It’s not like we’ve never slept next to each other before, princess. Get comfortable, I won’t touch you. Don’t worry.”

He turns around, his back now facing mine, making it easier for me to move closer. But his words keep playing on repeat in my mind.

I won’t touch you. Don’t worry.

But what if I want him to touch me?

It’s the last thing I think about as I fall asleep.