Page 46 of Below the Barrel

His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods and rises from the couch. As we step out of the penthouse, the tension between us hums in the air, unspoken but undeniable—thick and electric.

The moment we step outside, we’re instantly swarmed by production. Glitter rains down on us from all directions as people rush to make sure we’re covered in it before the camerasstart rolling. The energy around us is buzzing with excitement, and I feel it seep into my veins, making my nerves tingle. A producer approaches us, clipboard in hand.

“You two will have your own float to wave to the fans and cameras as you pass,” she says with a smile. “If you’re up for it, you can try to samba on the float, but please make sure you do so safely. Stick together, and don’t accept drinks from anyone, okay?”

I nod, my heart thudding in my chest. The idea of being on a float with Koa in front of thousands of people should feel exhilarating. I should feel proud that we’ll be up there representing Saltwater Springs, but I’m suddenly aware of the weight of his presence beside me, the magnetic pull between us.

Moments later, we’re boarding the bus that’ll take us to the carnival with the others. As I slide into a seat, Koa settles in next to me, his leg brushing against mine. The touch is subtle, but it sends a jolt through me. I start to nervously tap my leg, trying to shake off the nervous energy bubbling inside me.

Without a word, Koa’s hand finds my knee, resting there gently but firmly. His touch instantly grounds me, offering me a comfort I wasn’t expecting. I glance up at him, and he gives me that quiet, knowing look, as if telling me everything’s going to be fine. Somehow that simple act calms me.

The problem with trying to force myself to move on from Koa is I truly don’t think anyone else in this world will understand me the way he does. He just feels right.

When we finally arrive at the carnival, it’s complete chaos. People are everywhere—laughing, dancing, singing in the streets. The music is loud, the lights are blinding, and I’m immediately swept up in the wild energy. The crowd presses in, pushing and pulling in every direction, and panic starts to build in my chest. I lose sight of Koa in the sea of people.

I barely have a second to react before I feel a strong hand wrap around my wrist, tugging me back into safety. I turn and see him, his face intense as he pulls me close to him, his arms wrapping around my waist protectively. The warmth of his body against mine is overwhelming, but I don’t care. I don’t feel scared anymore. His presence shields me from the chaos, making me feel safe and secure and that’s all I want right now.

Koa keeps his arm around me, guiding me through the crowd as if I’m the only thing he’s focused on. Even with the frenzy around us, it feels like we’re in our own bubble, his grip tight and sure. When we finally reach our float with the production team, I glance up at him, breathless and grateful, his eyes meeting mine with a look I can’t quite decipher.

“Alright, let’s get you both onto your float,” the same producer from earlier says as she walks us towards the float. “Remember to be careful up there—it’s going to move slow, but it can be slippery.”

My nerves are buzzing as we’re led towards the float. It’s bigger than I imagined, adorned with vibrant flowers that remind me of Saltwater Springs and glittering decorations, the whole thing swirling with coastal colours. The platform is high up, and a set of steps leads to the top. Koa helps me up first, his hand resting firmly on my back as I steady myself at the top.

The cameras follow our every move, and I can feel the weight of the lenses on us as we take our places. When the float starts to move, it jolts slightly and I instinctively reach for the railing, but Koa’s hand finds mine first, steadying me.

The music starts pumping louder as the float lurches forward, and we’re suddenly moving through the heart of Carnaval. The crowd below cheers and waves, the energy infectious as we wave back, plastering smiles on our faces for the cameras.

The more the float moves, the more the atmosphere starts to loosen me up. The other surfers on their floats are attempting to dance samba—some with more enthusiasm than talent. Laughter ripples through me as I watch their clumsy moves. A few waves of encouragement from the crowd later, Koa gives me a nudge, his eyes bright with mischief.

“We can’t let them have all the fun,” he says with a wink, pulling me closer as the beat of the samba music pounds through the speakers.

“You know I can’t dance.” I laugh, a hint of embarrassment crawling its way up my throat.

“Neither can they,” he says, tilting his head over his shoulder at the others.

We start dancing together, his body moving in sync with mine as the rhythm pounds around us. At first, it’s playful, filled with laughing and teasing, but as the music gets more intense so does our proximity. His hands find my hips, pulling me closer until we’re dancing so tightly together that I can feel every breath he takes, every shift in his muscles. My skin feels like it’s on fire wherever he touches me, and my heart races.

Minutes later, the float eventually reaches the end of the parade route, and we’re ushered off into a private area to watch the rest of the floats pass by. It’s incredible, the lights, the costumes, the sheer creativity of it all. I’m in awe, watching the artistry unfold in front of me. Turning to see if Koa’s just as amazed, I find him already staring at me, his expression intense. His gaze ignites something inside me, a warmth that spreads from my chest down to my toes.

“Do you want to go back to the penthouse instead of heading out with the others after this?” he asks, his voice low, carrying a weight that hints at more than just the question.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, because I know that if I do, my voice will betray just how badly I want him.

We find the producer from earlier and explain we’d like to head back early. Surprisingly, she agrees. The ride home is quiet—too quiet. The air between us is charged with so much tension that it’s almost suffocating. Every slight movement feels amplified in the small space of the car; every breath I take seems to sync with his. The silence is heavy with everything we’re not saying, everything that’s been building between us.

As soon as we step into the house, Koa doesn’t waste a second. Before the door even fully closes behind us, he pushes me up against the wall, his hands grabbing my waist with a sense of urgency that makes my breath catch. His lips crash into mine, hot and demanding, and I instantly respond, melting into him. My back presses against the wall as he deepens the kiss, one of his hands sliding up my side, the other gripping the back of my neck, keeping me locked against him.

His hardness presses against me, and before I know it, he’s lifting me up effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as I cling to his shoulders for support. I can feel his heart pounding as hard as mine. We’re making out like we can’t get enough of each other, and I don’t want it to stop. He carries me, his lips never leaving mine, as he walks us toward the back door.

“This glitter’s going to be impossible to get off,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Want to just jump in the pool to rinse off?”

I see the playful spark in his eyes, and I know it’s more than just a way to get rid of glitter. I bite my lip and nod.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice barely audible as he lowers me to the ground.

I tug at the strings of my costume, letting it fall to the floor. Koa’s gaze immediately darkens, and I can feel his eyes on me—on every inch of my body as I stand there completely naked. My pulse quickens, pounding loudly in my head as heat creeps up my neck, but I don’t break eye contact.

His clothes come off next and I allow myself to admire his body—lean, muscular, toned in a way that makes my breath hitch every time. The pool lights reflecting off the water cast shadows over his skin, and I feel that familiar deep craving for him, stronger than ever.

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