Page 76 of Sparks Like Ours

“We haven’t discussed it fully, but trust me, she’s concerned. Shehas to be.”

“Talk to her about it.”

“Maybe. We have the Rip Curl Pro coming up pretty quick. I gottatrain my ass off, if I have any hope.”

“Australia, huh? Well, all the coolest things happendownunder.” Holly winked.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Holly’s mouth fell open. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Chapter Sixteen

The sound of Gia’s heart beat loudly in her own ears. Too loudly.

Round three of the Rip Curl Pro in Australia was playing out likea bad dream of the haunting variety, where everything seemed to happen in slowmotion, but you had no means to correct anything or make a difference at all—nomatter how hard you fought. She felt like her board was moving through molassesout there, and the more she realized it, the further into her head she fell—theworst possible place for her to be. She felt the tension from the crowd, andknowing Elle was out there cheering her on should have carried encouragement,but it only added to the palpable pressure that closed in on her, more andmore, as each second ticked by.

She saw her shot and went for it, increasing her power as shecharged the wave. A big guy, too. She was up on her board, steady and strong.She turned to the left, shredding, spray on her face as she moved straight upthrough the lip. But her timing was off and she got caught behind the waveinstead of with it and wasn’t able to make the exit happen, disappearing with amouthful of water she promptly spat out. Her leash yanked her back under andshe took in another mouthful. Fuck. She pulled herself to the surface just asrescue approached. She swore loudly and waved them off, grabbing her board andswimming the hell out of there.

A one-maneuver wave wasn’t going to bring the points. The clockwas ticking, and she’d yet to land a decent ride. Priority ran out and sheshifted her attention to her competitor, Alia Foz, who seemed on fire today.She, too, went left, though her effort was a little more drawn out, the windedging her forward, fueling her momentum instead of detracting from it. Andthen, bam. She found the perfect wedge section, held her form, and found herway out easily for the perfect ending maneuver.

This wasn’t good.

Gia waited, watching the clock for another shot to up her score.It never came. She set out for a final wave, but it totally fizzled before sheso much as made any significant connection.

Foz ended up a solid 13.2 combined score to her even 11.

She was out.

Again.

With a solid lump in her throat, she carried her board, which feltheavier than it ever had, past reporters, fans, and friends, not saying a wordto anyone. This couldn’t be her new reality. It just couldn’t.

She walked the distance of her hotel room and back again, tryingto work through the disappointment, the humiliation. Going over each moment ofthe heat second by second, she came to one very upsetting conclusion: She wasscrewed. This was not a fluke, nor was the last tournament or the one beforethat.

“Hey,” Elle said, entering the hotel room. “I know you must bepissed right now, but it’s just a continuation of some sort of phase. You’llfigure it out.”

“Will I?” Gia snapped. She’d never spoken to Elle that way before,and hated that she did it now. The anger-laced adrenaline had hold of her andwasn’t letting go. It wasn’t Elle’s fault. Except it was. Even though itwasn’t.

“You will,” Elle said calmly, taking a seat on the bed. “We bothwill. What do you think happened today?”

“Just like we suspected before. I’m forgetting why I’m here.You’remaking meforget.” Whether she wanted it to or not, it sounded like an accusation.

“How is that my fault?”

“I don’t know, but just give me some space, okay? I need to justfeel awful about myself for a little while.” Gia paced the floor, finallyfalling into a chair and holding her head in her hands. She couldn’t believethis was happening all over again. Three tournaments in a row.

“It’s not your fault,” she told Elle finally, finding a modicum ofequilibrium. “Not intentionally, anyway. But it’s like I’m not myself anymore.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not either, okay? So, what are we supposed to donow?”

“You’re stillinthe tournament,” Gia pointed out. “So I guess you’ll surf, and I getto watch you. Maybe that’s how it will always be. I can be your cheerleader.”

“You sound thrilled about that.”

“It wasn’t exactly how I imagined my life playing out. No.”

“And you resent me for that. You can just say it.”

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