Page 34 of Below the Barrel

I reach up and gently take her chin, guiding her gaze back to me. Her eyes flicker between mine, then dart to my mouth, uncertainty written all over her face, as if she’s unsure whether I’ll make another move.

“So, is this your way of asking me to sleep with you?” I murmur, keeping my eyes on hers.

“No,” she practically shouts, pulling her chin out of my grasp. “This is me offering my teammate the option to sleep next to me, not with me, to avoid a horrible death.”

I chuckle before turning around and picking up my bag from the floor.

“Well, if my life depends on it,” I smirk as I look back at her, “then I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Her face turns three shades darker before she turns on her heel in a huff. “Whatever,” I hear her mutter as she speed-walks back to the room. I chuckle as I follow her, watching as she grabs a change of clothes from her bag and stomps over to the bathroom to shower.

Two weeks in a bed next to her. What’s the worst that can happen?

TWELVE

MALIAH | TAVARUA, FIJI

I’ve officially lostmy mind. That’s the only explanation for why I agreed to this death trap of an excursion. I should’ve faked feeling sick, or pretended to have injured my leg, but instead here I am. I can feel the cameras zooming in on every one of my shaky breaths, capturing the fear I’m doing a horrible job of hiding.

The ski lift jerks to life as it starts to ascend, the cables rattling in the most unsettling way. The air is warm on Tavarua, but the higher we go, the cooler the breeze becomes, and it begins to bite against my skin. My fingers are clenched so tight around the metal bar that they’re turning numb. I can’t look down. The lush canopy of trees below looks too far away—too distant, like something from a dream.

Or a nightmare. Yeah, definitely a nightmare.

“I’m gonna pass out,” I mumble through gritted teeth, my voice small and trembling.

The thought of being suspended so high up in nothing but this flimsy seat causes my stomach to twist into knots.

Koa, of course, is completely unfazed. He sits beside me, legs relaxed, one arm casually draped over the back of our chair. Heglances at me with that smug grin that always makes me want to punch him, and yet—God, why does he have to look so good?

“You could sit on me,” he says, leaning closer with a mock-serious tone. “Might help with the passing out part.”

I snap my head towards him, narrowing my eyes. “Say that again, and I’ll throw you off this lift.”

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that echoes in the air between us. The crew behind us probably got that on camera too, along with the audio from the mics attached to our tops—great. Now I’m not only terrified but also irritated. Koa knows just how to get under my skin, and right now that’s the last thing I need.

The ski lift lurches again, and I nearly yelp, but I manage to keep my lips pressed shut. Koa’s laughter fades as he watches me, his expression softening just a bit.

“You’re going to be fine, Maliah,” he says, his voice low, almost soothing. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Besides, we’re almost at the top.”

As much as I hate to admit it, his voice calms me just a little. I keep my eyes forward, focused on the ridge that’s finally coming into view. The second we hit solid ground, I jump out of the lift, my legs wobbling beneath me, and let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Koa hops out too, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

“I haven’t seen your legs shake like that in a long time,” he says, winking as he stretches his arms above his head with a smirk.

“I hate you,” I mutter, though there’s no heat in my words. All the heat has found its way to my face instead.

He has a horrible habit of saying things that remind me of what it was like when we were together. A time I’m trying to move on from, with horrible luck.

I turn around and see the zipline platform almost instantly, my stomach twisting all over again.

The towering trees seem even taller now that I’m standing at their level. The zipline cables stretch across the dense jungle, disappearing into the horizon. The other surfers along with their camera crews are already gearing up, helmets and harnesses in place, while the instructors prepare the lines. I can feel my heart pounding harder.

There’s no way I’m doing this.

But before I can come up with an excuse to back out, a crew member approaches me with a harness in hand.

“Ready to zipline?” he asks, way too cheerfully for my liking.

I open my mouth to say no, to refuse outright, but Koa steps in next to me before I get the chance.

---