Page 12 of Below the Barrel

Eliana:

I don’t know if this is much help, but she had mentioned to me once on a VERY drunken night something about running away to Italy if all else fails.

Gabriel is on a call almost instantly, relaying Eliana’s information to whoever is on the other end of the line. Worry lines run across his forehead as he paces, deep in conversation.

“You found her?” he exclaims. “At the airport? Where in Italy was she flying to?”

He stops pacing as he turns to look at Koa and me.

“Rome?” he asks with barely restrained frustration. “Tell the pilot to get ready, I’ll be at the tarmac in thirty.”

He hangs up and looks at us apologetically.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice defeated. “I’ll video call you two every day to make sure you’re keeping up with training and getting along. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll send my pilot back here once I reach Italy, so he can take you two to the next competitions.”

“Understood, Gabriel,” Koa says, his brows furrowed. “We’ll be fine.”

Gabriel eyes us both skeptically so Koa bumps my shoulder playfully, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glances down at my frowning face. He winks at me and butterflies explode inside of my stomach, my frown fading.

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, “we’ll be fine.”

I’ve never felt more like a liar than I do right now, as I stare into the eyes that destroyed my world.

FOUR

KOA | VICTORIA, AUSTRALIA

Our driver stopsthe car next to twelve identical SUVs parked on an expansive hill in the middle of nowhere. I glance at Maliah who sits beside me, and I notice the worry etched along her features as she stares at the large hot air balloons in the distance. She’s never liked heights, but she’s also never had to face her fear out in the open like this, in front of people she doesn’t know and a camera crew, to top it off.

I open my mouth to share some comforting words, but she’s out of the car before I can get a single word in. That’s how she was this morning during our virtual training session with Gabriel. She only spoke to me when she needed a spotter, and even then, she avoided eye contact at all costs.

With a deep sigh, I open my door and climb out of the vehicle, not surprised to find a camera shoved in my face within seconds.

Not this shit again.

I raise a brow at the cameraman, a short blond guy. He backs away and glances over his lens at me, his face flushed.

“Sorry. First day on the job,” he says with a shaky voice. “My name is Matt.”

I ignore him as I glance over his head to see Maliah with her back to us, as she stares at the balloons in the distance timidly.

“Oh, right,” Matt says as he digs in his bag. “I was told you two need to wear these.”

He pulls out mini-Bluetooth microphones that are meant to clip onto our tops. Maliah slowly walks over and takes hers from him, clipping it onto her bubble-gum pink shirt. Matt does a sound check of her mic before giving her the thumbs up and turning towards me. He holds out the mic as I stare down at it.

I hate the idea of being watched and listened to at any moment. I’ve seen the narratives that reality TV pushes about people, and I don’t like the idea of that happening to me, or worse, to Maliah.

“Please,” Matt says, moving the mic closer to me. “I really can’t afford to get fired.”

With a glare that causes him to shrink away, I take the mic and clip it onto my black T-shirt. I let him do his sound check and then set off toward the hot air balloons where the other surfers and production crews are gathered, Maliah following quietly behind me.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Charles calls out with a sneer as he stares at me.

I watch as he realizes Maliah is behind me and his whole demeanour changes. His sneer melts from his lips, replaced with soft vulnerability. His eyes, narrowed at me only seconds ago, now hold a warmth instead as he studies her. I recognize that look—it’s the same way I look at her when she walks into a room.

Jealousy twists in my chest like a knife, quickly replaced by fear. He’s seeing her the same way I always have. What if she sees something in him, too? The thought makes me feel sick and helpless.

“Bonjour, Maliah,” he purrs.

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