Below the Barrel (Saltwater Springs #2)

7. Maliah | Western Australia, Australia

SEVEN

MALIAH | WESTERN AUSTRALIA, AUSTRALIA

The sun is high today, its rays glistening on the surface of the turquoise water as the boat gently rocks beneath my feet. The warm salty air blows my hair around as the other surfers on the boat talk with an excitement I don’t share. It’s hard to be excited when my heart feels this guilty. It’s been gnawing at me ever since Bells Beach two days ago.

I haven’t spoken to Koa or Gabriel since then, training on my own in the early mornings and ignoring both of their texts. I know it wasn’t fair, the way I’d lashed out at Koa for hanging up on Gabriel, but deep down I know he was just trying to protect me in the moment.

The ocean at Bells had been fierce the day of our competition, but it wasn’t the waves that had thrown me off. I couldn’t stop thinking about Koa the whole time—how he made me feel that morning, the intensity of our connection, and how much I had wanted him to kiss me at that moment when we were face to face in his room. He was all I could think about, and it had completely shattered my focus and performance out in the water when it mattered most.

Every single time I had tried to set myself up for a wave, his face would flash through my mind, making my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with surfing. Instead of reading the waves like I should have been, I was replaying our moments together and trying to decipher my feelings. I couldn’t shake him, and it cost me. It cost us. We went from first place to sixth, all because I couldn’t get him out of my head.

The boat slows to a stop as the captain calls out to us that we’re in the perfect spot to see the whale sharks on the Ningaloo Reef. Another stupid excursion meant for entertainment. The surfers around me start whispering excitedly as the production crews set up their cameras to get every angle of the boat. I watch as some people pull on their snorkels and fins, but I hesitate, looking over my shoulder instead.

Koa is on the other side of the boat with a few of the male surfers, his broad shoulders and familiar stance standing out among the group. I watch entranced as he laughs at something one of the other guys says and the sound of his voice makes my heart ache. I want to walk over there and apologize to him, but the words get caught in my throat every time I try to form them.

I replay the moment on the beach, the way I’d yelled at him, the hurt in his eyes as I stormed off, and to top it all off the stupid cameras filmed the whole thing. He didn’t deserve any of it.

I take a steadying breath as I look away from him and towards my snorkel gear. I need something to quiet my thoughts, even if just for a moment. Pulling on my gear, I glance at the others who are already out in the water, their laughter and shouts filling the air as the first whale shark glides below them. I want to lose myself in the wonder of these gentle giants too, anything to shake the heaviness inside of me.

As I slide into the water, the coolness surrounding me, I feel a moment of peace. The world above fades away, replaced by the sound of my breathing through the snorkel and the vast blueness stretching out beneath me. I get goosebumps as I look around, a reminder that the ocean is huge and unpredictable and I’m small and insignificant in its grandness. I spot a whale shark in the distance, its massive body moving with a slow and powerful grace that takes my breath away, and in that moment, I forget everything—Koa, the competition, the guilt—and just float there, mesmerized.

But the peace doesn’t last as the female surfers swim up to me, their excited voices cutting through the tranquil bubble I’d found. I rise to the surface and pull my snorkel gear off so I can see and breathe normally.

“So,” Vanessa, one of the redheads on tour, starts, “are you with Koa?”

I hesitate, the question catching me off guard. “No, I’m not,” I finally reply, trying to sound casual.

As soon as those three words leave my mouth, they start to gush excitedly over him.

“Oh my god, he’s so hot,” another girl says, her eyes widening as she glances back toward the boat where Koa stands.

“If you don’t want him,” a third girl adds with a wink directed at me, “we’ll gladly take him off your hands.”

I force a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm, but it feels hollow. They don’t know the whole story, or how tangled up my emotions are right now, how complicated everything has become for me. The thought of them eyeing Koa, wanting him, taking him, makes something ugly twist inside me—something I wasn’t ready to face yet.

Jealousy .

I glance back at the boat and my heart skips a beat when I notice Koa is watching me with a steady, unreadable gaze. Our eyes are locked together, and the world seems to shrink to just the two of us.

What is he thinking? Does he know how much I regret the way things had gone at Bells Beach? The girls’ laughter and chatter fade into the background, and all I can focus on is the intensity of Koa’s stare and the feelings that I can’t quite put into words.

I break eye contact first, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks even in the cool water. I hastily put my snorkel gear back on and plunge my head under the water to get away from his gaze, but no matter how much I try to escape it, Koa is always there, in the back of my mind, just out of reach.

It doesn’t matter though, does it? I remind myself.

He was the one that told me he didn’t love me anymore. He broke up with me, shattering my heart, and walking away. Those words, the way he looked at me when he had said them…they still echo in my mind, sharp and painful. I can’t deny the pull he still has on me, the way he makes me feel alive, even though my every instinct screams at me to protect myself, to keep my distance from him. But the memory of his words and the cold finality of our breakup always rushes back as a painful reminder that I’m not enough for him.

And yet, here I am, wanting him just the same.