Beyond The Break: Saltwater Springs Book 1

1. Eliana

ONE

Despite my best efforts,and believe me when I say I tried my absolute best, I can’t capture the magnificence and beauty of Hawaii in a single picture. The sand is a brilliant white, my bare feet sinking into its softness, and the ocean water is a stunning shade of blue, shimmering under the sun’s rays. I catch sight of palm trees swaying in the breeze, with vibrant flowers peppering the verdant landscape. I’ve never been anywhere this beautiful in my life – though that could also be because I’ve never stepped foot outside of my hometown, until now.

Closing my eyes, I embrace the sensation of the wind against my skin and the scent of saltwater in the air. I’m overwhelmed by gratitude for being offered the opportunity to come here, feeling the warm sting of tears beginning to form behind my eyes. This is exactly what I need in my life right now.

The sound of an air horn blasting nearby grabs my attention and I rush to point my camera at the small group of surfers floating on their boards in the ocean. Adjusting my long lens, I zoom in until I find the surfer I was hired to photograph today. Zalea Evans. She’s a surfing prodigy that every coach seems to have their eye on. So much so that I was flown here to photograph her during this competition, all expenses paid.

I watch as her auburn hair blows in the wind behind her while she sits up on her matte black surfboard waiting at the line up. As a wave begins to swell, she lowers herself back down and turns toward the shore, paddling with all her strength. Through the lens, I can see her hair begin to dampen and stick to her body. I watch as her and another surfer are neck and neck, fiercely charging forward to get priority, but she doesn’t back down, gracefully dropping into the wave first.

Goosebumps crawl along my skin as I watch her surf. She executes a bottom turn at the base of the wave with so much speed, reaching the top of the wave face and performing a top turn that has the crowd howling and cheering for her. I have no idea how her olive-green bikini stays in place, but I’m impressed.

“It’s like she has a firehose on the back of her board,” a commentator says into his microphone from where he watches on the platform stage, next to two other commentators, “there’s so much water moving.”

“She’s looking great so far, packing the first barrel.” The blonde woman next to him says, a grin stretching across her face.

“She must be excited to get some shade in that barrel, it’s hot!” The final commentator says into her microphone as she fans her red face with her papers, her brown hair swaying with each fan of her arm.

I’m not surprised when she comes in first place after the competition. Not a single surfer in that competition was able to pull off as many maneuvers as she did. As soon as she steps down from the podium, I finally set my camera aside and begin reviewing the shots, removing any that turned out blurry.

“Did you get any good ones?”

I look up to see who’s talking to me and nearly drop my camera. Zalea, the surf queen herself, stands in front of me.

“Y-you’re Zalea Evans.” I say as all the oxygen is sucked out of my lungs.

“You must be Eliana Ward,” she holds out her hand to me, “Gabriel told me he hired you for today’s competition.”

“Oh, he did?” I ask, mentally punching myself for sounding starstruck.

“I had to,” a deep voice says behind me, “or else she’d call the police on you, claiming you’re a stalker. She’s a bit dramatic.”

I turn around to see Gabriel Matthews, also known as Coach Matthews in the surf world, standing behind me. The first thing I notice about him, aside from his blue eyes, is his resemblance to the actor Theo James, with his high cheekbones, brown hair, and olive skin. If it weren’t for his icy blue eyes, he could pass as Theo’s doppelganger. He’s at least six feet tall, towering over me as he closes the distance between us.

“Gabriel,” Zalea says, her tone bored as she crosses her arms.

“Zalea,” he replies, amusement soaked on each syllable.

He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking her, my eyes drawn to his strained muscles. Gabriel returns his piercing blue eyes to mine, and I find the act of staring into them almost too intimate, but I steel my spine and refuse to drop his gaze.

“How are you doing?” he asks with an easygoing smile. From the corner of my eye, I can see Zalea’s scowl turn curious. “How is your hotel?”

Gabriel reached out to me on social media a week ago wanting to fly me out to Hawaii for one week to photograph today’s competition. I probably would have declined since photography is more of a hobby for me and because I had no idea who the hell he was. However, my job as a retention marketing manager is currently hanging on the line while I’m on suspension, pending investigation, because of some bullshit articles making their way around my hometown - again. With this trip being all expenses paid for, it was the perfect excuse to get away.

“I can’t get enough of this place, it’s stunning, and the hotel is amazing,” I reply, “thank you so much for upgrading my flight as well as my room.”

Gabriel had upgraded my room to the penthouse suite which was a pleasant surprise. The suite layout is basically an apartment. There’s a kitchen, living room space, bedroom, and ensuite bathroom with the dreamiest claw foot tub that I can’t wait to sink into tonight. He had also upgraded my flight to business class, and I was able to turn my seat into a full-blown bed with a privacy wall.

“That’s great, I’m happy to hear that, and you are most welcome,” he says smiling at me before returning his attention to Zalea who has been silently chewing her bottom lip while watching us.

I watch as she meets his gaze, and a tinge of pink starts to spread along her cheekbones as she continues to stare at him. I can sense the tension growing between them as his eyes burn into hers and I almost excuse myself, but she beats me to it.

“I’m leaving,” she says abruptly, turning around to walk off, her cheeks crimson.

“Bye,” he says, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

She pauses with her back turned to us when he speaks before dropping the towel that was wrapped around her waist to the sandy floor, leaving her curves on display as she walks off in only her bikini, flipping her damp hair over her shoulder. I hear Gabriel curse beside me as he drops his arms to subtly readjust his shorts, his eyes fixed on her.

I clear my throat and Gabriel returns his attention to me, his eyes going wide as he takes in my expression. I rub a hand over my mouth to cover my smile as I look down at my camera again, skipping through the photos. He totally has a thing for Zalea.

“She was amazing, wasn’t she?” he asks after a few minutes.

“She really was,” I agree, handing my camera over so he can look through the good photos. “And very photogenic.” I add. He hums in agreement as he looks through the pictures.

I feel my phone vibrate and I pull it out of my back pocket to see an email notification from my job. Quickly glancing up at Gabriel, and seeing him still focused on the camera, I decide to open it with hands that have started to shake.

All the air rushes out of my lungs as I stare at the termination notice. Deep down, I knew they would let me go, it was always the better business decision, but I held out hope thinking this time might be different. This isn’t the first time I’ve lost a job because of stupid small-town gossip.

Panic about how I’m going to pay rent and buy food are my first thoughts, followed by a hollow sadness as I come to the realization that I’ve lost my dream job – again. The sinking feeling of failure settles in my chest at being back in this spot of my life once again, at being unemployed with no backup plan.

“Eliana?” I look up from my phone to see that Gabriel has already finished looking through the photos. “You’re shaking, is everything okay?” he asks, his brows pinching together in concern.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just…uhm,” I say absently, the high pitch of my voice giving me away.

“What is it?” He pushes, leaning forward and lowering himself to my height, his voice brimming with worry.

“I-I uhm,” I swallow back the lump in my throat and rapidly blink away the tears. “I’ve just been terminated from my job back home.”

“Is it because of this trip?” he asks, his expression stern.

I shake my head, inhaling deeply. “There are some articles from a few years ago that were written about me in the local papers back home. They’re making their rounds on the internet now and bad press isn’t good for business.”

“Can I see these articles?” he asks.

I hesitate a moment before realizing I have nothing left to lose by showing him. So, I type my full name into Google and pass my phone to him so that he can read through the articles on his own. As he scrolls through them, his jaw ticks and a frown forms on his face. I watch as he texts himself the articles from my phone before he locks eyes with me.

“You know these articles aren’t true, right?” he asks, waving my phone at me gently.

I laugh bitterly. “The rest of the world doesn’t seem to see it that way or else I would still have a job to go back to.”

“Well, honestly, this works in my favor.” Gabriel says, looking back down at my camera with a small smile pulling at his lips.

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion.

“I think your photographs are some of the greatest I’ve ever seen,” he says, handing my phone and camera back to me. “I was planning to offer you a job as my team’s Social Media Manager after making sure you were the actual person behind those pictures on your social platform.”

My cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “You’re just saying that because I just lost my job. You really don’t have to do this, Gabriel. I can figure it out.”

He quirks a brow. “Eliana, I’ve watched you share your talent with strangers on the internet for free and your community has skyrocketed over the last three months. Do you really think I would have flown you halfway across the country, and paid for all your accommodations and food, and then also paid you on top of that if I didn’t think you had it in you?”

I look up at him quietly, studying his expression. He has a point, why else would he fly me out here for a week and upgrade my accommodation if he didn’t have a bigger plan? He could just be crazy rich and like to spend his money, but how much does a surf coach really earn? Surely, he isn’t trying to sleep with me, especially not after I saw how affected he is by Zalea. It can’t be this simple.

“Why would a surf team need a social media manager?” I ask, suspicion creeping into my veins.

“We’re a professional surf team aiming to get our surfers on the World Surf Association, and there are a lot of eyes on us right now. Our image could use some work.”

He clears his throat and looks out at the ocean with a slight frown before continuing. “We’ve had a tough time the last six months, one of our best surfers got injured and we haven’t won a competition since. We could really use the help of someone who is able to re-build our image in a more positive and fun way; showcase the talent on the team and bring in new supporters while retaining the existing ones.” His tongue pushes into his cheek before he returns his eyes to mine.

“I don’t know…” I sigh, deep and heavy, before I rub my lips together thoughtfully.

“I’ll double what your last job was paying you.” he says, grinning with a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“You don’t even know how much they were paying me; it could’ve been in the hundred thousand range.” I reply, flustered.

His grin widens and I swear his teeth sparkle in the sunlight. “Throw any number at me and I’ll double it.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded and speechless. I make a mental note to not only research his team, The Saltwater Shredders, but also a pro surf coaches’ typical salary.

“I’ll be heading back to Saltwater Springs tonight but, enjoy the rest of your week here and call me once you’ve made a decision,” he says, nodding towards my phone.

I nod and watch as he walks off in the same direction that Zalea disappeared to, picking up her towel from the sandy floor on his way.

I spendthe rest of the week ping-ponging the idea of moving to Saltwater Springs and starting a new life and career for myself versus staying in my hometown and trying to figure out life where I’m most familiar. As exciting as moving sounds, I worry those articles will find their way to Saltwater Springs too and even if Gabriel wants to keep me, the rest of the team might not.

Living in a small town has proven tricky enough. Do I really want to pack up and move to another small town? Maybe it’s time to dream bigger, start fresh in a big city somewhere in Europe instead. Could I survive the big city life? Could the articles follow me out there too? Frustration begins to bubble inside of me, and I let out a groan as I bury my face into my hands.

“You look like you haven’t had enough to drink,” a familiar voice says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder, coming face to face with Zalea, in the swanky bar I’ve been sitting in for the last three hours. She looks out of place here, yet nobody bats an eye at having a famous surfer in their space.

“Uhm,” I say, completely speechless – again.

“If you keep acting this shy around me, I’m going to start thinking you’ve got a little crush,” she teases as she takes a seat in the empty stool beside me.

I force my mouth closed, my cheeks flushing, and watch as she orders us both a shot of tequila from a bartender wearing a blue aloha shirt. Her long auburn hair flows behind her back in loose beach waves. Her black dress makes the color stand out.

The bar gleams under the warm lights, lined with a huge array of liquor bottles. The walls are decorated with what looks to be local artwork of the tropical landscapes of Hawaii, but the space is beaten down, smelling of stale beer, and gives off an aura of local gem rather than high class bar.

Groups of friends huddled together at tables, laughing while having animated conversations. In the dark secluded corners of the space, I can make out couples kissing, their hands traveling all over one another. My cheeks grow even hotter as I watch, an unwanted reminder of how sexually deprived I’ve been my whole life. I used to be proud of not being one of the easy girls, losing their virginities as teens but now, at twenty-five, it’s embarrassing.

I drag my eyes away from the couples as the tequila shots arrive, along with a plate of salt and sliced limes. I stare down at the plate in confusion, earning a chuckle from Zalea.

“Have you ever taken a tequila shot before?” she asks, picking up the salt bottle.

“No,” I say, shaking my head side to side.

“Here,” she takes my hand and brings it to her mouth. “First, you need to wet the back of your hand.”

I watch as she lowers her mouth to the back of my hand, her tongue sliding across before she sprinkles on salt. My heart pounds in my chest while my face becomes so hot I must look sunburnt at this point.

“T-thanks.” I stutter, looking down at my salty hand. I’ve never been attracted to girls before, but Zalea is making me question that right now.

She does the same to her hand, putting the salt back onto the plate when she’s finished, before passing a lime to me and taking one for herself.

I copy her actions and lick the salt off my hand, trying not to overthink the fact that I’m licking the same spot she had just ran her tongue across. We clink our shot glasses together before we down the gold liquor. I’ve never had tequila before and when I feel my throat burn, I quickly decide I won’t be having it again after tonight. I practically stuff the whole lime in my mouth to ease the burn.

“Do you always drink things that make you feel like breathing fire?” I sputter, my eyes watering as I try to hold in my cough. “I feel like I just turned into a dragon.”

She lets out a cackle of a laugh before ordering another round for us.

“So, what has you looking so gloomy?” she asks, folding her hands across the bar.

“Oh,” I shrug and sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got nothing but time, sweetheart.”

She sits back in her stool and gives me a reassuring smile, her green eyes burning into mine with undivided attention. That’s all it takes before I find myself confiding in her about the whole situation.

“Five years ago, I was in a car accident that killed my parents.”

“Straight to the point, I like it.” She says, slapping the bar top before placing a warm hand on top of mine. “And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I let out a small chuckle while fighting the burn behind my eyes. “While I was at the hospital, I discovered that rumors had been circulating around town, blaming me for my parents’ deaths.”

Her eyes go wide as she stiffens, her eyes glued to mine.

“It eventually turned into blaming me for everything that went wrong in town. The local football team was losing because I was at the game, local businesses going out of business because I had stepped foot inside. I was known as the town’s bad luck charm and the job that I had at the time ended up firing me.”

“That’s absolutely disgusting,” Zalea spits out, irritation evident in her tone.

I nod in agreement. “I think it was their way of trying to get me to leave town. My parents were well loved in that town, and I suppose they needed someone to blame, which happened to be me.”

“I suppose blaming the other driver involved in the accident was too much of an ask for your town?” she asks sarcastically.

I so desperately wish I could blame someone else for the accident but after years of that day running on repeat in my head, I know I’m the one to blame for their deaths. If it hadn’t been for me, they would still be here today. I feel my throat tighten and I blink away the newly forming tears before continuing.

“It died down after a while, but I had already lost all my friends. They didn’t want to associate themselves with my reputation or my bad luck.”

“Sounds like you had some shitty friends.” She tuts.

I nod in agreement. “Then I got this amazing job as a Retention Marketing Manager with this amazing company… but the articles resurfaced online this past month and I lost my job again,” My voice cracks. “Four days ago.”

I go on to tell her how Gabriel offered me a job with the team, and I share my fear of being rejected in a new town by a group of people I’ve never met. By the end of my rant, the second shots arrive, and we pause to take them. I don’t cough as much the second time around, but my throat still feels aflame.

Zalea wipes the corner of her mouth before resting her head on her fist and watching me with kind eyes. “Can I see the articles?” she asks, and for a second time this week I search up my name.

But this time, unlike last time, the search results come up empty. The articles and any social media post that was talking about me are gone; completely wiped from the search pages. I stare down at my phone stunned.

“They’re gone,” I whisper, double checking that I spelled my name right. “How is that possible?”

Zalea smiles knowingly. “Did you show Gabriel the articles by any chance?”

I look up at her, eyes wide. “Yeah, but he only looked at them for a couple of seconds.”

“That’s all he needs,” she says, sitting upright again. “It’s kind of his superpower, controlling the media.”

She signals the bartender for one more round before staring down at her empty glass and tapping her fingers along the side, her gaze contemplative. “You’ve got to have a tough backbone for that team, especially for Griffin. He’s returning to the team after six months away recovering from an injury; I’ve never met anyone as miserable as that guy.”

“Great,” I groan, slumping forward and pressing my warm cheek to the cool bar top. “So, it’s basically guaranteed he won’t be a fan of me being there.”

She chuckles. “I don’t know about that; I have a feeling you might be the only person with enough patience to cheer that fucker up. The way I see it, you really have nothing to lose if you take this new opportunity. If it doesn’t work out, you can fall back to Plan C.”

“I don’t have a Plan C.” I admit, closing my eyes as I bask in the coolness of the bar.

“Running away to Italy is my plan C.” Zalea confesses, smiling down at her glass. “You’ll figure it out.”

“It’s just scary, and I don’t know if I’m as confident as Gabriel is that I’ll be able to do the job,” I say, folding in on myself slightly.

“Scary is good,” she says, sliding her credit card toward the bartender when he brings us our third round of shots. “It means you’re being pushed out of your comfort zone.”

“I like my comfort zone, it’s safe.” I mumble quietly as I stare at the empty glass in front of me.

“Your comfort zone is limiting you, Eliana.” She places a hand atop of mine. “You need to be uncomfortable if you want to grow and succeed. Take it from me, you can’t live your life taking people’s shit, or letting their opinions define you. That shit will kill you.”

“Wow,” I laugh dryly, sitting upright. “You sounded very wise there.”

She grins. “Hey, you don’t get as far in this industry as I am because of pretty looks.”

I laugh and smile down at the full shot glass. “Would you ever join that team?”

“I actually was part of it once upon a time, but I discovered I prefer going at it solo and it seems to be paying off so far.” Zalea’s cool tone tells me she isn’t interested in being the topic of conversation.

She reaches past me and plucks my phone from the bar, typing her contact information into it. “You can text or call me whenever you want to talk.”

I look at her with a newfound respect. Even though she’s one of the biggest up and coming names in the surfing world, she’s still very normal. Very grounded. She winks at me before handing me my shot.

We both tilt our heads back and pour the bitter liquid down our throats, the burn less intense this time, and my legs begin to feel like jelly.

“I hope to see you again, Eliana,” she says, standing up from the stool, wobbling slightly. “I should get back to my hotel before I wake up on the floor of this bar in the morning, again.”

I giggle, standing up with her and almost falling to my ass. She grips onto my elbows and helps me stay upright as my giggles break out into hysterical laughing. Her mouth stretches into a wide grin as she watches me, eyes sparkling, before she joins in. We must look and sound like two drunk hyenas to everyone else here.

Once I’ve calmed down and wiped the happy tears from the corners of my eyes, I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for a hug. I almost begin crying again when I realize this is the first time I’ve hugged anybody in five years; I forgot how comforting it is. She reminds me of how good it feels to have someone on your side. Someone who wants to talk to you and wants to listen to everything you have to say. Someone who cares.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say.

She wraps her arms around me and gives me a big squeeze.

When she zigzags out of the bar I take a seat, nearly falling off the edge, and pull out my phone. I pull up Gabriel’s number and stare down at the blurring numbers in front of me. I know I probably shouldn’t call him until I’m sober, but the liquid courage makes the decision for me and before I realize it my phone is pressed to my ear as the line rings.

“Hello?” his deep voice says from the other end.

“Seventy-five thousand annually, and you have a deal.” I slur, holding my breath, the liquid courage making me sound more confident than I feel.

“I’ll make it sweeter, in case you try to change your mind in the morning when you’re sober,” I can hear the smile forming as he speaks. “One-hundred and fifty thousand annually, and I’ll throw in a free room at The Shredder House.”

I’m stunned into silence for a few minutes before a question burns its way into my mind.

“Did you have all the articles and posts about me removed?” I finally ask.

The line is quiet for a moment.

“Your boarding pass should land in your email inbox in the next ten minutes.” he says instead. “I’ll see you soon. Good night, Eli.”

My breath catches in my throat after hearing the nickname only my parents had ever called me. I feel my throat tighten and my vision blurs once again.

“Goodnight.” I mumble, my voice shaking.

The line disconnects and I rub my eyes, refusing to let the tears spill out. Less than a minute later, the boarding pass comes through to my email. As I inspect the boarding pass, my eyes snag on the words Business Classand I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming excitedly.