“Oh, come on,” Amira chimed in from the other side, lifting herself back on the border. “Like you didn’t hire a wedding planner to deal with all that shit.”
“Francois 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 for their destination wedding in Tarifa, in Andalucía, in the South of Spain.
Salacia Project, Sofia’s business, was doing great in Ericeira—expanding, even—and Azul, Ilias’ business in Imsouane, 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 surf classes, people lost their minds booking it years in advance. Alejandra wasn’t surprised. They were surfers she looked up to daily, and learning from them was a one in a lifetime opportunity for many.
“It’s just a different lifestyle,” Carlos interjected as he sat down next to her.
Ilias nodded. “But Sofia’s happy having someone handle all that shit, so I’m happy.”
“Good boy,” Alejandra smiled, patting his shoulder.
“By the way, where’s Sofi now?” Ghita asked.
“Showing the nerd trio their apartment, I think. They just arrived from Sevilla. They’ll probably show up any minute.” Ilias checked his watch.
“Can’t wait to finally meet them. You’ve spoken so much about them and it annoys me I never got the chance to meet the nerds,” Alejandra laughed.
Ilias frowned. “You’ve never met them?”
She shook her head. “Never had the time. You know, I'm busy trying to win my third USL title.”
“They’re funny,” Ilias conceded. “They are very cool.”
Alejandra leaned back against the concrete, letting the sun dry her green bikini and her skin, her feet still dangling in the water.
“Ready for another season?” she asked, feeling the adrenaline entering her body already.
In January, the season was going to start again and she was aiming—once more—to her third title. Plus, the result in the USL would lead to the Olympics, her second one and hopefully, her second gold. She was aiming for a stellar season, she could feel it in her bones.
“It will probably be my last one,” Ilias admitted. “I’m getting old, and Mama Water has been hitting me hard lately. My back gives me nightmares.”
“Old man,” Amira sneakered, splashing some water into his face.
“You are not that old,” Alejandra frowned. “If you retire, then I have to retire, and it’s not an option.”
“You don’t have to do what I do,” Ilias reminded her. “I already retired once and came back, but since Margaret River last year my back has been playing games with me.”
“Gretchen suggested he takes it slow,” Amira intervened, now slightly worried. “We don’t want him to hurt himself too bad.”
Alejandra nodded, closing her eyes, trying to process the conversation, not quite sure what to take out of it. She knew she was getting older too. Heading for thirty-four. Her body wasn’t what it used to be at twenty, and yet, she didn’t feel weaker, she felt stronger. But she knew she wasn’t going to be immune to the passage of time. At one point, inevitably, her body would give up. Turns, paddles, carves she had done her whole lifewould become trickier to do. She had seen surfers compete until they were forty, like Mick Turner, a legend she looked up to, but even he was retired now.
Panic swelled in her chest at the idea. She needed something 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 quiet of a familiar place in the town that had seen her grow. Even though, traveling as much as she did, the idea of home had changed immensely from when she was a kid. It wasn’t a place anymore, it was more the people she surrounded herself with. The downside of growing up in the surfing world was that everyone came from somewhere else, everyone called a different place home, which meant she had no idea where hers was, beyond the one she had bought in a futile attempt to keep time from slipping away.
She opened her eyes and caught Carlos watching her, a frown creasing his brow. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and she answered with a reassuring smile. He didn’t need to know what was running through her mind. The goal for that year was to win her third USL title and her second Olympic medal. That was where her focus needed to be.
As 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.
2
CALLUM
Me Fui de Vacaciones - Bad Bunny
As the sunkissed his face the moment they stepped out of the apartment, Callum closed his eyes and took it in. The light in Tarifa hit differently, low and golden, heavy with salt, reflecting off whitewashed walls and pale stone. It sank into his skin instead of bouncing off it.
