Bonus Chapter
ALEJANDRA
Troubled Waters - Alex Warren
The water around her drained out all the sounds from the outside world.
Seated at the bottom of the pool, anchored with two dumbbells Carlos had found in the gym of the villa, Alejandra steadied her breathing, and with it, her mind.
To the outside world, surfing was all adrenaline, energy, walls of water closing on you, but in reality, it was also this: controlling her breath, training her body to stay calm under the pressure of water above her.
When she did apnea work, she usually relied on meditation techniques to quiet her thoughts. Right now, though, her mind was a whirlwind of emotions.
As she opened her eyes, she saw Ilias seated right next to her, holding onto two other dumbbells, and in front of her was Amira, cross-legged, hair floating gently around her face.
She never counted how long she stayed under; Carlos did that from outside the pool.
But one thing she knew that day was that she wasn’t going to lose against them.
Losing was never an option if she could avoid it.
A smirk played on her lips as Amira caught her eye.
She didn’t even have to do much before Ilias’ little sister burst into laughter and had to resurface. One out.
Ilias was already watching her. His hazel eyes were trained on her with that eagle-sharp attention he usually reserved for reading waves. He knew she was there to disrupt his peace, and he was ready for it.
The staring contest began. They’d been playing that game since they were kids, bored to death during apnea trainings. Now, well into their thirties, they still behaved like children in moments like this.
By the way Ilias’ nostrils flared, she knew he was about to lose it. She just had to hold a little longer. She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly. His nostrils flared even more before he lifted a middle finger and finally went up for air.
Alejandra followed seconds later, resurfacing and letting the sound of seagulls ground her back on planet Earth, away from Mama Water. Warm air kissed her cheeks as she pushed the goggles off her face, fingers tangling briefly in her long black hair as she tried to free them.
“I won,” Alejandra declared.
“Almost five minutes, Ale,” Carlos called from the side of the pool, where he was crouched, stopwatch in hand.
“I’m getting better. That training with the big-wave surfers really helped.”
“I should’ve gone with you,” Ilias frowned as he lifted himself onto the pool’s edge, where Amira was already stretched out in the sun.
“Next time,” Alejandra shrugged.
Learning new techniques to deal with wipeouts had always been an obsession of hers.
If she could reduce the chances of feeling like she’d been thrown into a washing machine—without panicking—then that was the goal.
It didn’t help that after winning her second title in Fiji the year before, she hadn’t won the season that had just wrapped up.
She’d lost to a new twenty-something Aussie and cracked her head on the reef at Pipeline.
She hadn’t lost consciousness, thank fuck, but it had hurt like a motherfucker for days.
That alone had pushed her to sign up for the big-wave surfers’ retreat when the season ended.
If nothing else, it bought her some peace of mind.
“How do you feel?” Alejandra asked Ilias as she sat next to him on the pool’s edge, the Atlantic stretching endlessly in front of them.
“About marrying the love of my life? Amazing.” The bright smile he gave her confirmed—again—how completely smitten he was with Sofia. “But all the organization stuff,” he scoffed. “I’d rather stay underwater until it’s over.”
“Oh, come on,” Amira chimed in from the other side, sun-drying. “Like you didn’t hire a wedding planner to deal with all that shit.”
“He gives me anxiety,” Ilias said. “He should take a Valium once in a while.” He reclined against the pool border, soaking up the late-August Tarifa sun.
Sofia and Ilias had booked a villa for their families, plus apartments all around town for friends coming in.
Salacia Project in Ericeira was doing great—expanding, even—and Azul, which had started just a year earlier with Ghita basically running the show, was already booked solid for the entire year.
When word got out that Ilias and Amira had a retreat in Morocco where they taught courses, people lost their minds booking it years in advance.
Alejandra wasn’t surprised. They were surfers she looked up to daily.
Azul, their father’s surf school turned retreat center, was exactly what you’d expect from them.
“It’s just a different lifestyle,” Carlos said, sitting down beside her.
Ilias nodded. “But Sofia’s happy having someone handle all that shit, so I’m happy.”
“Good boy,” Alejandra smiled, patting his shoulder. “Where’s Sofi now?”
“Showing the nerd trio their apartment, I think. They just arrived from Sevilla. They’ll probably show up any minute.” He checked his watch.
“Can’t wait to meet real-life Sheldon Cooper and his gang,” Alejandra laughed.
Ilias frowned. “You’ve never met them?”
She shook her head. “Never had the time. You know—busy getting smashed at Pipeline.”
“They’re funny,” he said. “Not at all the Big Bang Theory types you expect.”
Alejandra leaned back against the concrete, letting the sun dry her bikini, her feet still dangling in the water.
“Ready for another season?” Alejandra asked, feeling the adrenaline entering her body already. In October, the season was going to start again and she was aiming—once more—to her third title.
“It will probably be my last one,” Ilias admitted. “I’m getting old, and Mama Water has been hitting me hard lately.”
“Old man,” Amira sneakered, splashing some water into his face.
Alejandra’s thoughts started spinning. She was getting older too.
She’d hit her head at Pipeline. Her body wasn’t what it used to be at twenty, and the ocean was merciless.
She needed something for later—for after.
For when her career ended, when sponsors would inevitably drop her if she didn’t play her cards right.
The house she had bought in Conil a couple of years earlier was a backup.
An anchor. A place she could rent when she wasn’t around, and a home when she wanted the quite of a familiar place.
She opened her eyes and caught Carlos looking at her, concern written all over his face.
He squeezed her shoulder. She smiled back.
He knew exactly what was going on in her head—the inevitable passage of time she wasn’t ready to face yet.
Who was she without surfing? Would she still be Alejandra when competitions were no longer an option?
Voices drifted in from the villa’s entrance. She pushed those thoughts into a corner of her mind, locked them away.
It was Sofia’s weekend.
Her worries could wait seventy-two hours.