Below the Barrel (Saltwater Springs #2)

19. Koa | La Libertad, El Salvador

NINETEEN

KOA | LA LIBERTAD, EL SALVADOR

The waves at Punta Roca are something else—sharp, clean, and relentless. They peel perfectly, letting you catch multiple airs, carve tight turns, and then shoot into a barrel like the ocean’s pulling you in just to spit you out in triumph. It’s every surfer’s dream, the kind of conditions that make you feel alive, like you’re one with the water.

As soon as my feet hit the wax, I know this is going to be good. The board cuts through the wave, and I drop into the pocket, the lip curling over me. The feeling of being inside a barrel is indescribable, like time stops and all that exists is the roar of the water around you, the tunnel of blue pulling you deeper in. My heart thunders in my chest, but my mind is completely clear—no thoughts, no worries, just the thrill of riding it out.

I emerge from the barrel, catching air before landing the final turn, and the rush is pure adrenaline. The nearby crowd roars, but all I hear is the ocean in my ears. This is where I belong.

We come in first place, Maliah buzzing with excitement as we get out of the water. Other surfers high-five us and pat us on the back, adrenaline-fuelled smiles all around. Except for Charles. He stands farther down the beach, watching me with a glare through his two black eyes and busted lip. I smirk at him before looking down at Maliah next to me, her skin glistening with the ocean’s salt, and I can’t help but feel like I’m on top of the world. Not just because of the win, but because of her.

As we get pulled over for the post-heat interview, the interviewer grins and congratulates us. Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Fans around the world are shipping you two pretty hard. The first six episodes of SurfFlix have aired, and people are dying to know—what’s the deal? What’s the status of Koa and Maliah?”

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Maliah jumps in, “We’re just Koa and Maliah.”

Her voice is steady, confident, and when she says it, my grin stretches wide. Because yeah—she gets it. We don’t need a label, and maybe that’s enough. For now, at least.

The interviewer raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but I just laugh as I throw my arm over Maliah’s shoulder, pulling her into my side as I give her a sideways glance. “Just Koa and Maliah,” I repeat, feeling the truth of it settle in.

And damn, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good hearing my own name.

We head back to our tent and hop on a video call with Gabriel. The connection flickers for a second, but when his face finally appears on the screen, I’m hit with two things. One, he actually looks better. A lot better than the last time we saw him, when he was grumpy as hell. And two, Zalea is walking around in the background, but something’s off. She’s pale, her steps unsteady, and she looks like she might be coming down with something.

Before I can ever say anything, Maliah’s already leaning closer to the screen, her brow furrowed. But Gabriel notices us staring and snaps, “Mind your business.”

We both back off immediately, and he shifts his attention back to the competition. “Congrats on the win. Let’s go over the race before I send over my notes.” His voice softens a bit as he glances at Maliah. “And, uh, I’ve been meaning to say sorry about springing the shared bed situation on you guys in Fiji. Poor planning on my part. I’ve arranged a team building event for you guys to make up for it.”

Maliah gives him a teasing smile. “No worries, Coach. But seriously, another team building event? We just had one in Rio.” She nudges me playfully.

Gabriel’s face scrunches in confusion. “Another one? What are you talking about?”

Panic grips me as I realize Maliah’s hinting at the day out that I planned for us. “Oh, uh, Gabriel, the production crew is calling us over for more interviews.” I laugh awkwardly, feeling my face heat up. “Text me the details for the next event and any notes you had from today, yeah?”

Before he can ask more questions, I hang up. Too quick. Way too quick.

When I turn to Maliah, she’s doubled over, laughter spilling out of her. I rub the back of my neck feeling like an idiot. “What?”

“You should’ve seen your face!” she says between giggles. “You were so flustered. I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Yeah, well, you almost blew it,” I say, though I can’t help but laugh too. Even through the embarrassment, seeing her smile like this makes it all worth it.

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon when we pull up to Parque el Espino , also known as Sunset Park, in La Libertad. The sky is painted in warm oranges and pinks, casting a soft glow over the ocean in the distance. The breeze carries the scent of saltwater mixed with grilled street food, and the air buzzes with laughter, chatter, and the sound of carnival games. It’s like something out of a movie—the kind of place where everything feels alive.

Maliah and I step out of the van, two camera guys trailing behind us, capturing every moment like we’re some kind of reality TV couple. I take in the scene around the park: brightly coloured stalls, neon lights flickering to life, and the buzz of excited voices filling the air. The scent of pupusas and fried plantains wafts over from the food stands, making my stomach growl.

Maliah’s eyes widen as she takes it all in, her expression caught between wonder and amusement. “I’ve never been on a date somewhere like this,” she says, mostly to herself, but I catch it.

A slow grin creeps onto my face. “You just called it a date.”

Her cheeks flush instantly. “No, I didn’t! I just—” She fumbles, her flustered reaction making her even more adorable.

“You did,” I tease, leaning in a little closer, ignoring the way the cameramen behind us inch closer. “But don’t worry, I’ll make it the best date ever.”

She glares at me playfully, but I can see she’s trying to hide her smile. That blush? Yeah, that’s fuel to my fire. I’m going to make sure tonight is one for the books.

We start wandering through the park, and I slip into full-on carnival boyfriend mode. First stop: the games. I spot a simple ring toss booth and nudge her. “Think you can beat me?”

Her competitive side kicks in, and before I know it, we’re both chucking rings at bottles. I’m aiming with laser focus, but it’s not long before she wins a small stuffed iguana. Maliah holds it up, triumphant, as if she’s just claimed the championship trophy. I pretend to be bitter about it, but seeing her smile that big? Worth the fake defeat.

“Not bad,” I say, giving her a playful nudge. “Now let me show you how it’s done.”

I manage to win her a small cotuza—a stuffed toy resembling the cute little agouti, a rodent native to El Salvador. It’s tiny, but I figure it won’t take up much room in her suitcase. She giggles when I hand it to her, but the look in her eyes tells me she appreciates it more than she’s letting on.

And then she surprises me. “Your turn,” she says, tossing a ring at another booth and, after a few tries, she wins me a stuffed torogoz—El Salvador’s national bird. Its vibrant colours are bright against the fading sunlight.

I take the bird from her outstretched hand, feeling a strange warmth spread through my chest. It’s just a stuffed toy, nothing big. But knowing she put the effort into winning it for me? That’s a different kind of feeling.

“Guess we’re even now,” I say, giving her a grin, though I can’t shake how good it feels to be on the receiving end of something from her. Not just anyone—it’s Maliah.

As we continue through the carnival grounds, my eyes drift to Maliah again, and damn, she’s stunning tonight. She’s got this effortless beauty that just pulls me in without even trying. Her hair, those golden waves, flow down her back and catch the light from the neon signs around us. They move with the breeze, soft and wild all at once, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and run my fingers through them, especially because I know we’re being filmed for the world to see.

She’s wearing a simple but perfect outfit. A white sundress that clings in all the right places and flares out as she walks, giving her that easy, carefree look. The fabric moves with every step she takes, like it was made to be worn in the warmth of this carnival night. Her skin has this golden glow under the sunset, and the contrast of the dress against her tan makes her stand out even more.

But it’s her eyes that get me every time. Those big, blue eyes, brighter than the lights of the park, wide with excitement as she looks around, taking everything in. She’s got this infectious energy tonight, like she’s a kid in a candy story, and it makes her even more beautiful. When she catches me staring, she raises a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I lie, because how the hell do I explain that she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all night? Even in this whole vibrant, colourful carnival, it’s her that keeps pulling my attention.

She shakes her head, probably thinking I’m just being weird, but I don’t miss the light pink that dusts her cheeks. That little blush, the way she tries to hide it, makes her even harder to look away from.

As we wander through the park, choosing games to play and passing by food stalls, a feeling of pride settles over me. Everyone around can see her—how amazing she looks—and she’s here with me.