Chapter 20
ILIAS
In The Water - Peter McCredie
Sofia had been on the phone with Elvira for the past fifteen minutes. Italian was as close to Spanish as Ilias could think, yet when she slipped into full-on Italian mode, he couldn’t quite keep up. Still, her voice was strangely soothing.
“Finally,” Sofia muttered, stretching as she stepped out of the car. The motion lifted the hem of her TerraVive sweater, revealing a teasing sliver of her tanned lower abdomen. Ilias’ gaze caught on the exposed skin, his thoughts instantly careening toward far less innocent territory.
Traveling with her had been a pleasure. And a fucking torture. They had to fake a relationship, and even though they never kissed on the lips, they interlaced fingers, hugged, even when it wasn’t necessary. Ilias took every excuse to touch her, and surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind.
Once they dropped their bags in the shared room—a problem for the Ilias of the future—they walked down toward the beach with his boards.
“So many people,” Sofia remarked, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the chaos of surfers dotted in the lineup.
“It’s one of the most crowded waves,” Ilias explained. “And during comp season? Even worse.”
She studied the wave with a grimace. “Are you sure you want to surf that mess?”
Ilias chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer. “Are you worried about me, habiba?”
She shot him a deadly glare. The kind that had become one of his favorite things about her. She looked hot when she was pissed, and even hotter when she cared but didn’t want to admit it.
They moved down to the Athlete Zone, where security let them through, and Sofia barely had time to take a breath before Alejandra pounced.
“Mi mejor amiga del mundo mundial!” Alejandra chanted, hugging her and bouncing in circles like a child on sugar.
“Hello to you too,” Ilias muttered, raising an eyebrow.
“My best friend is here!” Alejandra beamed, clearly ignoring him.
“Yeah, I got that,” Ilias deadpanned. “Wasn’t I your friend too?”
“But you’re no best friend,” Sofia added, still clinging to Alejandra like koalas to eucalyptus.
“Ouch,” he mocked, feigning heartbreak as he finally got a hug from Alejandra once she let go of his—fake—girlfriend.
“Have you seen Amira, Coach, and Gretchen?”
“Yeah, they’re down in the water. Coach told me to tell you to join. I’ll hang with Sofi.”
“If you need to train, I can handle myself,” Sofia offered, gesturing toward a beachfront coffee shop.
“No way. I’m not missing the first tour I get to spend with my best friend in Aussie land,” Alejandra said, grinning mischievously.
“Where’s Edward?” Sofia asked, brow arched like she was suspicious. Ilias didn’t miss the shift, how Alejandra suddenly looked too bright, even for her.
His attention got snatched as he waved to a few surfer friends. Even Steven. Fucking Steven. Nose fully healed from the last time Ilias introduced his fist to it.
The Frenchman nodded his way. Alright, we’re civil now. For the moment.
“I don’t know. Somewhere,” Alejandra muttered.
Sofia gave her a long, assessing look. Something was up.
Alejandra and Edward had been together for about a year.
British surfer. Lived in Hawaii forever.
They’d known each other since they were kids.
Still, Alejandra was acting off. Edward hadn’t been in Ericeira because of a problem at home, but he should be back on tour.
He wasn’t a great competitive threat to Ilias, but he had always been a good sport.
“Are you hiding something from me?” Sofia asked, arms crossed, lips pursed. Even annoyed, she looked unfairly hot, and the sun didn’t help. Her skin glowed, her hair caught the light like dark silk, and that sundress she’d thrown on clung in all the right places.
Focus, Ilias warned himself.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, leaning in for a cheek kiss, and aiming just a little closer to the corner of her mouth than necessary. He caught the way she flushed, and it made him smirk. Even Alejandra’s gaze sharpened, a teasing grin already forming.
Yeah, she noticed. Good.
He dropped his stuff in the locker room, greeted a few familiar faces, then headed toward the water. Gretchen was on the beach filming Amira. Coach likely somewhere out in the lineup.
“Hello, hello!” Gretchen greeted in her Dutch-accented English, arms open. “Look who’s finally back.” He hugged her tightly. “Ready to win? You’ve got a good shot.” She smiled. “It’s fast, powerful. Snappy sections. If the ocean plays nice, this could be yours.”
“I’ll charm her.” He winked, then headed down the sand toward the break.
Boardshorts and rashguard only. No wetsuit. The sun was warm, the water warmer than the icy cold Portuguese Atlantic Ocean.
In the lineup, a few locals gave him side-eyes. Typical. Localism was always a headache. He got it. They hated not having access to their own waves. But damn, he needed to train.
“You’re back,” Amira called after him in Arabic.
“Just arrived. How’s the water?”
“Fast as hell. But good. Sofia here?”
“Yeah. With Ale.”
“What Sofi said about Azul… I think she’s right. We should follow Ghita’s suggestion.”
Ilias frowned. “Is this the right time to talk about it?”
“I wanted to tell you face-to-face.” She grinned. “It’s good having you back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
And it was. Even after just two missed events, he could feel how much he’d craved the rhythm of the USL, the pulse of the crowd, the bite of salt in the air, the rush of adrenaline before the drop.
The ocean had always been his home, but competition?
That was his heartbeat. And he’d been out of sync for too long.
Now, straddling the board and the noise of the world dimming behind him, he felt that familiar fire building in his chest. The one that made him reckless. Alive.
And with Sofia there, watching, cheering, pretending to be his, yet somehow feeling too real, everything inside him sharpened. It wasn’t just the thrill of being back. It was her. The quiet steadiness she brought, the way she looked at him like he could still be someone worth believing in.
Snapper Rocks was going to be his. Not just for the points. Not just to make TerraVive happy. But because this time, it wasn’t about redemption on paper, it was about proving to himself that he could still rise, still fight, still want.
And maybe, deep down, it was also because he didn’t want to let go of the woman who made him feel like he already had something worth winning for.
Even if she was only supposed to be pretending.