Page 40 of Beyond The Break

My heart beats hard in my chest as my emotions jump all over the place. I glance down at my trembling hand, the numbness seeping into my fingers. I swallow hard, pushing away the impending panic attack.

“Good,” I say after a long pause to breathe through the feeling, attempting to walk past them and join the rest of the team before I lose control, but the reporters step in my way, not letting me through.

I feel like a caged animal and the feeling causes my anxiety to spike. I rub my chest, trying to rub the anxious feeling away, as their questions start to blend together.

“What was recovery like?” another reporter asks, his eyes wide as he waits for me to speak into his microphone.

Does he really expect me to lay it all out for them? For people I don’t even know, when I can’t even talk about it with the people closest to me? A cold sweat breaks out and I feel the beads dripping down the back of my neck.

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but I spot Eliana just over his shoulder and the words get caught in my throat. She’s staring at me with concern edged along her brow, next to the rest of my teammates who are also watching how I handle this. A sense of calm washes over me as I look back at Eliana. How is her presence alone able to chase away the panic?

My eyes bounce back to the camera man next to the reporter, pointing the large lens directly at me, reminding me that there are many eyes on me right now, not just Eliana’s. With a deep breath, I force a smile for the camera and return my attention to the reporter.

“It was a difficult journey,” I say, flashing my signature smile, “and I couldn’t have done it without the support of our fans.”

The reporters begin asking more questions, the camera men and women blinding me with the unnecessary flashes of their cameras. I hold my hand up which works to silence the questions.

“Thank you everyone, I’m happy to answer more questions after today’s competitions but right now I’m going to go get ready.”

Turning away, I make a beeline for the team tent, escaping the herd of reporters. The others have started waxing their boards while Gabriel is quietly whispering with a few other coaches from neighboring teams. Eliana, on the other hand, is watching me while she plays with the strap of her camera.

Something about how she watches me, expression full of pity, pisses me off. I don’t need her pity, I’ve had enough of that to last my lifetime. But, not wanting to be alone, in case the reporters try to question me again, I walk over to her and take a seat across from her in the sand.

“Hi,” she says, eyeing me carefully.

“Hey,” I reply with a clipped tone, tossing my board on top of the sand in front of her before I pull the wax out of my duffel bag.

She silently snaps a few photos as I prep my board. I wax the board and check the fin to make sure it’s on correctly, and I triple check that the ankle strap is in good condition, yet none of that does anything to calm the growing anxiety inside my chest. I need to get rid of this feeling, convince myself that Iwon’t get hurt today, but all I can focus on is the shutter of her camera.

“Can you put the camera down?” I ask through clenched teeth.

She lowers it right away and a beat of silence passes between us.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, studying me carefully.

“What, are you a reporter now too or just obsessed with me?” I reply dryly.

She frowns at my tone, looking me up and down. “I’m just checking in. You’re very quiet today.”

“Yeah, well don’t feel obligated to do that. We’re not suddenly friends just because of last night,” I say.

It’s a low blow and I know it, but I stare at Eliana with the coldest look I can muster right now, watching the hurt form in her eyes as her head rears back. Her reaction dissolves my anxiety instantly, replacing it with guilt and regret.

“Fuck you,” she hisses, teeth clenched, as her eyebrows pull into a frown.

How is it possible for someone to still be so stunningly beautiful even when they’re angry as hell?

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I force a smug smile.

I know what I’m saying is below the belt, but I’d rather be alone than be questioned about my feelings right now, it’s just how I am. She scoffs angrily and jumps up to her feet, leaving me behind as she wanders off to take photos of the others.

Disappointment slowly seeps into my chest, and I bury my face in my hands, staring down at the sand. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that, even if I am trying to get her to quit. I’ll need to apologize to her later today because right now I feel like the world’s biggest dick, in the worst way possible.

With the anxiety beginning to grow in my chest again, I resort to something I haven’t had to do in months. I pull my phone out of my bag along with my headphones, putting on ameditation podcast for the next thirty minutes, while I close my eyes and focus on breathing as the tightness in my chest ebbs away.

I jointhe rest of the team as they stand further out on the beach. The females are up first, and Maliah takes the first heat, running next to a girl with purple hair from the Rip Raiders. The girl is taller and scary looking, but I know Mal can do this. She’s improved so much since the last time I saw her surf and she’s likely the best female surfer in the region – I have no doubts she’ll win.

Mal and the purple haired glare at one another before readying their boards, eyes refocusing on the ocean. The sound of the bullhorn echoes throughout the air and all the surfers begin running towards the ocean.

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