Page 45 of Between the Boards
They remind me of Maliah, and Eliana. God, I wish they were here. But Eliana’s at the care home with Griffin visiting his parents, and Maliah…well, she still isn’t replying to my texts. The thought leaves a hollow ache in my chest.
I glance toward the guys instead, finding Zale standing off to the side, locked in on what looks like a tense phone conversation. Every few seconds, he looks at me and I can’t help but feel like he’s talking to Alessia and I’m the topic.
I continue scanning until I find Colton, but he’s not watching me anymore. Instead, he’s staring past the lineup of canopies, eyes fixed on a group further down the beach.
The Rip Raiders—his old team.
His expression grows tense for a second before he looks over—as if he feels me watching—and heads straight toward me.
“Need some company?” He asks, dropping his board behind me before settling into the sand at my side.
“Only if you’re offering sunscreen assistance,” I murmur, digging through my tote.
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You’re that scared of burning, huh?”
“We’re all going to look like fifty shades of lobsters by the end of the day.”
I pull out the spray bottle and hold it out behind me. “Can you get my back? I missed a spot this morning.”
Colton hesitates for half a second before taking it. “Yeah,” he says, a little quieter now. “Of course.”
Cool mist hits my skin as he sprays it evenly across my back.
“Do you want me to…uh…rub it in?” he asks.
I nod. “Please.”
His hand settles against my back a second later, and begins moving slowly, spreading the sunscreen in smooth strokes. My eyes drift shut before I can stop myself, and within seconds I’m picturing myself back in his room, his hands all over my body, and his mouth?—
I inhale sharply and pull away from his touch. “Okay,” I say quickly. “That’s good. Thanks.”
His hand drops immediately. “Yeah. No problem.”
There’s a brief pause between us before he clears his throat. “Want help waxing your board?”
I shake my head, reaching for my wax tin. “No, I’ve got it. Pre-competition ritual.”
“Right,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he tosses the sunscreen back into my tote for me.
He leans back on his hands, watching as I begin working the wax across the surface of my board in slow motions that I’ve practiced over a hundred times. By the time I finish, the call comes to line up.
All the women from competing teams gather near the shoreline, boards tucked tightly against our hips, and eyes locked on the horizon before us. My pulse pounds loudly in my ears as I take a deep, grounding breath, and when the horn blares I don’t hesitate to sprint.
Sand kicks up behind me as I hit the water, launching onto my board and paddling hard to cut through the surface and push past the others toward the lineup until I reach it first and claim my spot at the front of the line.
The ocean looks perfect today as I scan the horizon. These are the kinds of conditions I dream about. I settle into position on my board, my chest rising and falling heavily.
Last year was a write-off with all the team shifts of Koa and Maliah being on tour and Gabriel running off to Italy. There were so many missed opportunities. But this year? This is mine. I’m not just here to compete, like I have been. I’m here to win.
I spot a promising swell building in the distance and I pivot, paddling hard until the wave lifts beneath me, rising fast. I pop up clean and drop in, my weight centered as the board slices down the face. My bottom turn is controlled, and when I drive straight up into a vertical snap, the lip explodes around me and spray fans into the air. I land clean, the sound of cheers echoing from the shore where everyone watches, and reset as the section ahead of me starts to close.
Perfect.
I pump twice to build speed and then hit it with a tight re-entry, redirecting straight back into the pocket of the wave that keeps giving. I angle down the line and launch into a smooth cutback, carving clean through the face of the wave before snapping it back toward the power source.
It’s so peaceful here. No outside distractions, just me and the ocean in a constant flow. This is why I love surfing, this little moment of peace, and connection. There’s no overthinking, ornoise in my head. And there’s no pressure clawing at my chest either, just pure instinct. I’m so in tune with the ride that I don’t even hear the announcer narrating my surf anymore.
I pump down the face one last time, then snap vertically off the lip before I bring it back down and ride the whitewash towards the shore. The horn sounds and I hop off into waist-deep water, breathless and grinning because that was the best wave of my life.
