Page 30 of Below the Barrel

He looks over his shoulder at Charles who is now staring up at the clouds as if they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Nah,” Reese replies. “I just noticed she’s been a bit hot and cold with you on this tour.”

I nod in agreement. “We have a history,” I explain, “but Maliah knows we’re more than friends, even if she tries to pretend like it’s not true.”

“That’s how you know she’s got it bad for you.”

Reese closes his eyes and relaxes as the wind blows through his brown hair, sending it swirling in front of him for the rest of the boat ride. At some point, Charles had relocated next to Maliah, and I watch with a bitter taste in my mouth as he makes her laugh.

When we finally reach the island, I’m one of the first to get off the damn boat. I can’t stand watching him put a smile on her face when it should be me doing that.

I study the island and feel a bang in my chest as I take in the white sand, swaying palm trees, and dense greenery. It reminds me of Hawaii. It reminds me ofhome.

Unlike the others on The Saltwater Shredders team, I wasn’t born and raised in Saltwater Springs. My parents used up almost every cent they had to fly me out from our small community in Hawaii when I was seventeen. Gabriel had an opening on the youth team that included food and boarding, and after seeing a few recordings of me at local Hawaiian surf competitions, he had reached out and offered me the spot, as long as I would be able to cover my own flight expenses. I haven’t been back since, but I miss it more than anything.

“All right, surfers, please stand next to your partner,” Jackie calls out to us from further up the beach.

I watch as everyone shuffles around and seconds later Maliah finds her spot next to me. I force myself not to look down at her, even when I feel the heat of her gaze roaming over me.

“The accommodations here are going to be a bit different,” Jackie starts. “Because of the high cost to stay on the island resort, you’ll be sharing a beachfront villa with your partner for the next two weeks.”

My jaw nearly hits the ground, and Maliah stiffens beside me as groans and giggles ripple through the surrounding surfers. I slowly close my mouth, composing myself as the cameramen hover around trying to capture everyone’s reactions. I swallowpast the nervous lump in my throat and allow myself a quick glance at Maliah, only to find her already looking up at me with flared nostrils.

Staying in a hotel room across the hall from her for a few days was hard enough. How am I going to share a whole villa with just her for two whole weeks?

“David here is the resort manager.” A short round man with dark skin and grey hair beams at us before he steps forward with room keys. “He’ll come around to each of you to hand you your room key. There is only one key per room so learn to share with your partner.”

When David reaches Maliah and I, I watch as she extends her hand out for the key, but I quickly snatch it from his hand instead.

“She has a history of losing keys,” I explain when he raises his brow to me. “It’s better if I’m the one that holds onto it.”

“It was one time,” she argues, turning to glare at me with her hands on her hips.

“One is more than enough,” I say, giving her a fake smile before turning back to David. “Don’t you agree?”

He looks between us several times, the nervousness evident in his expression before he plasters on a polite smile.

“Whatever works best for you both,” he says before hurriedly moving onto the next group.

“Great,” Maliah mutters, “now I have to worry about you locking me out of our villa.”

“I would never do that.” I roll my eyes and turn to face her. “You, on the other hand, wouldn’t think twice to do that to me. Another reason why I’ll be holding onto these for the next two weeks.”

I wave the keys between us, high enough for her not to be able to reach them in case she tries.

“Whatever.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Let’s go.”

I look around and notice that groups are leaving towards their villas with a staff member. A grumpy man approaches us with an army of younger guys, surely not even eighteen yet, each holding onto our bags.

“Please follow me,” he says, turning towards the villas.

We follow him right up to a large villa with the number twenty-two hanging over the glass sliding door. The whole villa is made from timber and woven bamboo, with a thatched Fijian-style roof.

He turns to me and gestures that I unlock the door, which I do, letting myself and Maliah in first. It’s an open concept villa, which makes it look extremely spacious especially with the high ceilings and large windows. All of the furniture is made from wood, and I notice paintings and wall art are the only hint of colour in this neutral toned home, but it all blends together nicely.

The boys that carry our luggage pass us and head towards a room. We follow them and come face to face with a king-sized bed, draped with a mosquito net.

“Where’s the second room?” I ask, turning to look at the grumpy man.

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