Chapter 11
ILIAS
Te Miro a la Cara – Daviles de Novelda, Abraham Mateo
What he needed was a powerful swell to shut off his brain from any thoughts about TerraVive, the board, Sofia’s reply. All of it.
And Ilias found it at Coxos. Just a ten-minute ride from his now empty apartment in Ericeira.
Amira, Coach, and Gretchen had already flown to Bali, while he had stayed behind in the hope Sofia would give him a positive answer.
If not, he would head down to Imsouane, where Ghita was dealing with Azul.
Ilias would meet them again in Australia, at Snapper Rocks.
If he wanted his points back and a chance to even classify for the Big Five final, he needed a miracle.
Or to win every single remaining event. Which, considering the competition, wasn’t likely.
But his comeback had been strong. He wasn’t about to start doubting himself now.
Once he arrived at the beach, the conditions were flawless.
He paddled hard into the pulsing northwest swell; eyes locked on the dark lines stacking on the horizon.
The tide was mid, just enough to expose the sharp reef under Coxos’ right-hander.
As the wave steepened, he popped to his feet, tracing a high line down the face.
The takeoff section pitched hard. He tucked low, threading himself into the barrel.
The lip spat beside him, the reef rushing past under a curtain of water.
Time bent for seconds. Then he shot out clean, water trailing off his shoulders like wings.
He carved tight off the bottom, rail slicing like a blade.
Another wall built. He hit the lip vertical, tail drifting for a beat before landing square and smooth.
He pumped down the line with speed. Another section formed, steep, fast, hollow.
He snapped under the lip, the blowtail catching the sunlight.
The wave collapsed behind him. He kicked out clean, grinning like a lunatic as the whitewater chased him to the channel.
No judges. No cameras. Just feel. Just flow.
Just him and the ocean. The kind of surfing that rewired the soul.
Without surfing, he was no one. Even during his two years break in Morocco, he spent every morning surfing with Ghita.
He hadn’t missed a day, because surfing was his therapy as much as talking with his therapist. It had helped his mind and body to not be wrecked by the guilt, the responsibility and the disappointment he could hear every time he spoke to his mother.
Three hours later, after a few easy conversations in the lineup, Ilias was tired, happy, and annoyed with himself in equal measure.
The punch had come up a couple of times among the locals, mostly as jokes, a few as questions, but he didn’t care.
Surfers supported him; sponsors were another story.
The fact that TerraVive would’ve likely dropped him if Alejandra hadn’t pitched that wild image-rehabilitation plan with Sofia made his blood boil.
He knew he should be grateful. Azul was still alive only because TerraVive kept sponsoring him and Amira through his two-year break. But he wasn’t a monster. That punch had been justified.
Ilias understood business. He understood what TerraVive wanted—discipline, clean image, smiles for the cameras—but he also knew that if Coach hadn’t dragged him away that day, he might’ve hit Steven again.
The media had said their piece, the public had formed their opinions, and he told himself he didn’t care.
But Azul relied on that money. Ghita relied on him and Amira to keep the business their father had left behind from sinking completely.
Azul was struggling. His father’s will had tied their hands with restrictions that lasted three years.
Three years that were almost up. And he still had no idea if closing the school was even an option anymore.
He’d poured everything into Azul. His winnings.
His savings. His pride. The business had become a wound that wouldn’t close, a legacy he’d never wanted but couldn’t let die.
When he got back to the Jeep he had rented, his entire body still humming with the adrenaline of the last wave, the first thing he did was check his phone.
Sofia signed it.
His grin spread. He started typing a reply, too distracted to hear the footsteps approaching in the parking lot.
“You did well out there.”
He turned, surprised, and there she was.
Sofia was looking up at him with those big brown eyes, sun glinting in her hair. She wore a white tank top, no bra, he noticed instantly, under a dark pink linen shirt, open at the front, and high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips too well.
He smirked. “Why didn’t you join? Ale said you surf.”
“Longboarder.” She shrugged. “Big waves like that scare me.”
“They weren’t that big,” he teased, unzipping his wetsuit halfway, sliding on a poncho.
“So,” he said, grinning, “you gonna tell me what you’re doing here or should I be the one filing a restraining order?”
Sofia chuckled, and God, that sound, he could live off it. As if probably realizing what she had just done, her cheeks aflame, she turned serious, all business. “Jamie probably told you I signed the contract.”
He nodded, still grinning.
“And Alejandra told me you were at Coxos, taking the edge off. So, I figured we’d…start already.”
“Couldn’t stay away from me too long, eh, habiba?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Needless to say, this is strictly fake,” she said firmly. “Us hanging out. Pretending to be a couple.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll remind me of that very often.” He smirked, cocking an eyebrow. Baiting her.
Her lips pressed together, plush, irritated, and inviting.
“Listen, I really need that money, and I wouldn’t have accepted if—”
“No need to justify it to me,” he cut her off gently. “We’re both doing what’s best for our careers. You get your funding. I get a shot at redemption. No judgment.”
He extended his hand in a sign of peace.
She hesitated for half a second, then shook it. Her hand was smaller than his, but warm. Strong.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I just—this whole thing is new to me. I’ve never done something like this, and I have no idea how to act.”
“In public, we act like a couple,” he said smoothly. “In private, you can keep pretending to loathe me.”
He leaned in a little closer. Her cheeks flushed. Zwina. Same reaction as before. He was definitely getting under her skin.
Sofia stepped back, shaking off the tension. “How long are you staying in Ericeira?”
“I’ve got time off until May 3rd. That’s when I have to be in Snapper Rocks to get back in the USL circuit. So, I’ll be around. We should be seen together often, at least in the beginning.”
“You’re staying a month?” She frowned. “Don’t you have a home?”
“My sister’s in Bali. My mom’s in Spain. And I’d rather stay here than going back to Morocco.” Then motioning between them, “You and I? We’ve got a contract. So, as you said before, why don’t we start already?”
Sofia leaned against his Jeep, arms crossed, watching him change into jeans and a sweater, towel-drying his curls. She looked skeptical, but curious.
“So, what’s your plan for launching this fake love story? Soft or hard?”
He pointed between them. “We’ll start with a soft launch. Instagram story, maybe. Tag each other. Let people speculate. They love to dig into stories. If we hand them all the information, there would be no fun for them.”
She scrunched her nose. “Do you really think people would care about us?”
“We are both a very interesting mix, with Spain being our common background, and the Spanish gossip blogs are pretty wild. They already speculated about me for years, and they are still doing it after the punch. So, as soon as they see us together, they will go wild.” He frowned. “Aren’t you a well-known influencer?”
“Content creator, and I’m a marine biologist before everything else.” She sighed, her gaze shifting to the horizon. “But scientists are not as important as athletes are.”
“Scientists are cool,” he admitted. “Plus, marine biology is sick. People should definitely pay more attention to you than to me, to be honest.”
Sofia scoffed, but then found his gaze. “We need some rules.”
“For example?”
“No kissing. No touching,” she said quickly, her cheeks on fire.
The more he talked to her, the more she became a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.
She was gorgeous, undeniably so. It didn’t surprise him that she’d become a content creator; those doe-like eyes could draw anyone in.
And yet, she didn’t seem to care, or even realize, the kind of pull she had on the world.
She blushed at the mere mention of a kiss or a touch, like her mind had wandered to places that weren’t entirely innocent, which prompted him to think that maybe she didn’t believe her own words and was putting on an act.
“Of course not,” he said innocently. “Unless you want to.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I got some videos of you in the water,” she added. “I could post one.”
“Oh, such a dedicated partner already. I love that for us. Show me.”
He stepped beside her, slipped an arm casually around her shoulders, leaned down to her ear. “We’re in public. Might as well start warming up to each other.”
Her body stiffened, then relaxed just slightly. She didn’t push him off. Progress.
Sofia unlocked her phone and started scrolling through the videos. He kept his arm draped over her shoulder, fingers resting at the curve of her upper arm.
“Wow. You’re a great photographer.”
And he wasn’t lying. She had captured through photos and videos very good shots that many photographers spent years even aiming for.
“One of my many talents,” she replied, trying to sound light.
“Can’t wait to find out the rest, habiba.”
She shot him a warning look, and added, “I wouldn’t be a content creator if I didn’t know how to use a camera.”
He hummed in agreement, letting their bodies brush together for just a second longer than necessary.
“Don’t exaggerate,” she muttered.
He let go.
“Post what you want,” he said. “But now we need pictures of us together.”
Her cheeks colored again.
“Do you have plans this afternoon?”
“I should be working.”
“Then let’s call this work. You’ve been paid two hundred thousand euros,” he said, winking.
Before she could answer, his phone vibrated with a call from Jamie. He put her on speaker.
“Sofia, I’m glad you two have already caught up.
TerraVive wants the first post live tonight.
Doesn’t matter what, just make it public.
The more attention it gets, the better. Be sure to wear something with our brand on.
I already spread the word about what Steven said to Ilias to some European and US media.
So, people are watching. Make us proud.”
“Don’t forget African media too, I’m Moroccan, and that could help Azul to get back on the radar of local families who want to teach their kids how to surf.”
“On it. Post something tonight.”
Jamie hung up without letting them speak.
Sofia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I really should be working.”
“Let’s go work, then.”
She pointed to a green Jeep nearby. “Follow me. I’ll park near my place. Then we’ll grab something at Nereid. That's okay?”
“Whatever you say, habiba.”