Chapter 12
SOFIA
Peer Pressure – James Bay, Julia Michaels
Ilias was a natural with public affection; she, on the other hand, felt like a malfunctioning robot.
And for that, Sofia had only Thomas to blame.
Somehow, falling in love with an American meant he didn’t like to hold hands in public, kiss in public, or display even the slightest affection toward his significant other when surrounded by other people.
Sofia was pretty sure not all Americans were like that, but she had the misfortune of falling for the most robotic and close-minded one during her twenties.
Meanwhile, the guy she was supposed to fake a relationship with was the touchiest person she'd ever met.
“You should relax a little,” he said as they waited for their orders at Nereid. They’d snagged a spot close to the balcony so they could see the ocean and have front-row seats for golden hour, one of her favorite times of day in her favorite spot in Ericeira.
Ilias outstretched a strong hand and squeezed her shoulder, the massage surprisingly relaxing her muscles after an entire day diving.
“I find it hard when I don’t know how to act,” she whispered back, leaning slightly toward him. “And people here know me.”
“Even better. If they see us together, they’ll believe the post we’re making tonight.”
He leaned in even more, and Sofia studied his features a little more closely.
She hadn’t meant to stare. But there was something about him, something in the way the sunlight caught his hazel eyes, turning them slightly green.
Warm and unblinking, like they’d soaked in years of salt and sun and still refused to fade.
Eyes that weren’t just light, but alive.
They didn’t just look at her, they seemed to notice her.
And she wasn’t used to being noticed like that.
She wanted to shrink away from his stare.
Maybe that’s what unsettled her the most about him, the way he seemed to see through her armor.
Sometimes she felt like she moved through the world like a porcupine, always wearing spines to keep people at a distance. People like Ilias, for example.
His skin told stories too. Not the polished kind she was used to, but the kind filled with scars, kissed by ocean air and open skies. It looked like it belonged to someone who never ran from the elements, but lived in them.
Then there was his nose, not too sharp, not too soft. Just enough curve to suggest quiet pride, like it had weathered things and stood its ground. Like the rest of him. Defined. Balanced. Grounded. Not like her, she always felt like she was constantly walking on quicksand.
Her gaze lingered on the cut of his jaw and the scruff that adorned it. When he smiled, there was that easy grin, bright and unguarded, the kind that disarmed you before you even realized you’d been on edge.
Everything about him radiated something unspoken. Not just athleticism. Not just charisma. Something calm. Solid. Lived-in. So different from how she felt.
“Aqui está o vosso pedido.”
One of the waiters startled her, forcing her to snap back to reality. Ilias seemed just as surprised, like the few seconds—it must have been seconds—they’d been staring into each other’s eyes had pulled him from reality.
“Obrigada,” Sofia replied, while Ilias, in perfect Portuguese, asked for olives or something to snack on with the beers she had brought them. Even though Nereid was mostly a coffee place, they did an amazing aperitivo that reminded her a little bit of Italy.
When the waiter left, Sofia frowned. “How many languages do you speak?”
“French, Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, and Spanish for family. English and Portuguese mainly to chat with my friends,” he admitted. Then he wiggled his eyebrows. “Did you think I was just a dumb surfer?”
“Something like that.” She tried to hide the smile creeping on her lips. She wasn’t going to say outright how cool she found it when people spoke more than one language.
“And you?”
“Italian from my dad, Spanish from my mom, English for study and research, some French because I lived in Genova, close to the border with France, and they taught it in school. I’m learning Portuguese, but I mix it with Spanish and Italian and hate myself for not getting it right yet.”
“Let me guess, you’re used to being good at everything you do?”
There was no judgment in his tone, just pure amusement.
“Is there another way to live?” she joked.
Ilias laughed, a full-on belly laugh, and the sound warmed something in her chest.
“I don’t think so. You’re talking to a pro surfer who built his life around winning medals and proving he was better than the rest.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m no one to judge.”
Sofia became thoughtful. “I don’t have that kind of drive when it comes to surfing or anything athletic. I surf because I enjoy it, but I found out I’m competitive with academic stuff.”
“Always been a nerd?”
“I knew I wanted to become a marine biologist from a very young age. Even though math and chemistry aren’t my favorite, I worked my ass off for it.”
Then she looked at him as he popped an olive into his mouth that the waitress had just dropped by. The movement somehow catching her eye. “And you? Always known you wanted to be a surfer?”
“More or less. My mother would have probably wanted for me to become a doctor or a lawyer, you know, something in which I had to spend years inside of a building hunched over books,” he chuckled, his tone warm. “But then I discovered surfing, and that was it. I got into it and went pro at eleven.”
“Like Ale.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Since we were five. We met at a summer camp in Conil, became friends, and then our families became friends. We have spent every summer together since then. I couldn’t travel to her events because I was studying, but we always kept in touch. She’s my best friend.”
“Ale talks very highly of you,” Ilias said, sipping his beer. “Weren’t you about to become head of some important research institute before you dropped it to start Salacia?”
“Something like that.”
Maybe one day I’ll tell you my most tragic and embarrassing story.
“What does Salacia even mean?”
“Salacia was the Roman goddess of the sea, Neptune’s wife, actually. But what I like is that she represented calm, saltwater itself. The hidden life beneath the surface. That’s what the project is about, uncovering the quiet, powerful beauty of the ocean that people tend to overlook.”
Ilias gave her an impressed look. “Who came up with the name?”
“Ale.” Sofia smiled. “She’s a huge Roman and Greek mythology nerd and kind of infected me with it, unfortunately.”
Ilias chuckled. Then they fell into silence. A comfortable one, both of them watching the sun set beyond the horizon, casting golden hues around them. It was beautiful, magical, and surprisingly peaceful.
“See? We’re not that bad together,” Ilias said after a while. “I think this could work. A tiny price to pay for reputation and money.”
Sofia rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yeah, it’s not that bad when you don’t act all cocky.”
“I’m sorry, it’s part of my default charm. You’ll get to love it.” He chuckled. Then he called for the waiter. “Could you take a picture of us, please?”
The young girl nodded as Ilias motioned for Sofia to sit on his lap. She was about to protest, but he shot her a warning look toward the waiter.
Right. They had to fake it.
So she sat sideways, wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaned her head against his. His strong arms hugged her closer.
“Diz 'xis'!” The waiter smiled.
Ilias turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Such a simple, harmless gesture, and yet her entire body betrayed her. Heat shot through her chest, blooming up her neck and down her spine until even her fingertips tingled.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. It was just a kiss. On the cheek. From a man who probably didn’t even think twice about it. And still, her pulse was racing like she’d run a marathon.
As soon as the waitress handed the phone back, Sofia pulled away and sat back in her chair.
“Look, we can use this one,” he said, showing his phone.
Sofia took it and for a moment, she was at a loss of words.
She could have fooled even herself if she hadn’t known it was all fake.
The way her arms wrapped around his neck.
The flush on her cheek. Her smile. Wait, was she actually smiling? Impossible.
Ilias snapped her out of it. “Who’s going to post it?”
“Who has more followers? Maybe that would help,” Sofia asked, giving back the phone trying to pretend nothing had happened.
Nothing has fucking happened, Sofia. Santo cielo.
“No idea. Let me check.”
Sofia did the same, and nearly choked on her beer. “You have 10 million followers, Ilias?”
“Why do you sound surprised? I’m a very hot Olympic gold medalist.” He chuckled.
Sofia frowned, not answering. Why hadn’t she checked that before? Why didn’t she notice it when she stalked him after the clean up? Maybe because you were checking out his abs in the first pictures? She wasn’t that different from her mother, thirsting over him.
Santo cielo, 10M was a lot. She was so happy with her 1M. Gosh, now she felt so stupid.
“You definitely post it.”
“Okay, but you have to follow me. Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t followed me back.”
Sofia shrugged. “Pride.”
Ilias shook his head, smirking. “Whatever you want to call it. Should I say something in the caption?”
“Maybe just a heart emoji next to my tag?”
Ilias nodded. And as she followed him, the tag arrived.
As she looked at it again, she believed they could have fooled someone into thinking they were in love. Well, they were about to fool the entire world. So, it better work.