t w o w e e k s l a t e r

Water is always water, no matter how predictable it may seem. It didn't matter where it came from or who controlled it, because if you disrespect it, it'll punish you.

I always respected the water, but my semi-final heat punished me all the same. The North Shore Pro was invitational, and that should have made me feel good in and of itself. Mentally, maybe, but physically? I felt like I'd just been thrown out of a moving car, then run over by it. I gently tossed and turned in the oscillating waves as I paddled back towards the shoreline.

As I marched across the strip of beach, I heard my name crackle over the loudspeakers.

Savannah Allen advances with an 8.8 to meet defending world champion Carissa Keli'i in the finals of this year's North Shore Pro tomorrow.

I felt myself exhale for the first time all day.

It wasn't all that sunny, but the flash from Gemma's little digital camera blinded me as I hauled myself to the grandstand area, still dripping wet. With an exhausted groan I dropped my surfboard, still strapped to my ankle, and leaned into Gemma's open arms.

"I am consistently impressed by you, even though at this point I shouldn't be." She gave me a soft smile as she pulled away, and damp remnants of our hug lingered on the front of her blue sundress.

"Let's get through the finals tomorrow before you start heaping on praise and awe," I moaned, feeling every muscle protest every move I made.

Gemma slung her arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the hotel grounds across the way. Malia stayed behind to talk to the judges and handle some things for the final tomorrow. I glanced over my shoulder and took one last look at the water, seemingly more calm and clear than it had been all day, almost like glass.

They say never turn your back on water. It'll get you when you least expect it.

By the time I had stretched, showered, and scrubbed all the sand and salt water off of me, Gemma had already poured wine, put a Bon Iver playlist on shuffle, and ordered pizza from the hole-in-the-wall place in town that had $1 slices bigger than my head.

I wrapped up my knee with bags of ice and sat down on the plush, ruby red carpet of our hotel room. Despite Gemma's lactose intolerance, she eagerly went after a slice of mushroom and peppers.

"So explain this to me," she droned on as she poured herself another glass of wine. "You're doing what?"

"Talking," I groaned. "We're just talking."

I stuck with seltzer for the night so I wasn't kicking my own ass in the morning, but something told me this impending conversation might drive me to drink straight from the bottle. I held off on telling Gemma anything about my reignited flirtationship with Atlas until we saw each other in person this weekend. She met the news how I expected her to - cynically with a glass of wine.

Gemma pinched her lips into a frown, taking a sip of pinot. "Uh huh..."

"Just say what you wanna say," I jabbed. "It's not like you to hold back."

She huffed out a sigh. "It's not that I think he's necessarily a bad person-"

"But you're not his biggest fan," I cut in. "It's not a secret, although I'm not sure how much of that is bias towards Callahan Francis."

Gemma froze with pizza in hand, a mushroom sliding off the cheese and into the cardboard box. "Francis?"

"Callahan Francis Jane, according to Atlas," I repeated pointedly, clapping a hand to my chest. "And here I thought you knew everything."

Gemma plucked the stray mushroom off of the pizza box and popped it in her mouth. "Listen, I met Cal the same night you met Atlas. Expecting me to know everything after only knowing him for four months is pretty extreme. I'm a realist, Savannah."

"Oh please, you're a romantic at heart." I quipped. "Besides, I know you well enough to know you and Cal communicate like normal people. I'm assuming that includes his fluctuating friendship with Atlas."

Gemma sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "They can play nice once they remove their helmets and leave the track. They grew up in Monaco together, and Cal is probably the closest thing to a brother that Atlas has. For better and for worse."

I already knew Atlas was an only child, but the extent of their history was new information to me, and maybe it shouldn't have been. Lying by omission wasn't something that Gemma and I could continue to do, even though we'd come to terms on why it happened the first time. Sure, the guys we were talking to had a complicated relationship with each other, but our relationship wasn't complicated. We weren't going down that road again.

I managed a scoff. "Gem, I applaud this whole savvy deflection thing, but this isn't politics. Like...can I talk to my best friend about a boy for one second? If Atlas isn't necessarily a bad person, then what is he, and why do I feel like you know important things that I don't? I don't care what those things are, I just...I want to know."

Against my better judgment.

Gemma sighed again. "Savannah, all I know is what Cal has told me. They were rookies together two years ago, and the media has pitted them against each other ever since. Every track is treated like a tinderbox, and it doesn't help that now they're constantly competing for podium places, and ideally the World Championship." 

"I know how that feels." I sighed and flopped back to lay down on the plush carpet. "You know the surfing community did that to me and Carissa in 2018, and were fully prepared to run with it in 2019 too until I got hurt."

"But the difference is that Carissa has always been horrible to you, and you're a ray of fucking sunshine!"

I smirked. Only Gemma after three glasses of wine would willingly compliment me so exuberantly while still telling me I was in the wrong. "Okay, so...?"

"Anyone who knows anything about F1 these days knows that Callahan Jane has always tried to casually mitigate the perception of his relationship with Atlas Vaughn-"

"No, you're doing it again," I interjected, sitting back up ramrod straight. "Stop giving me the diplomatic runaround, just say it."

"Fine." Gemma took a pause and straightened up, placing her hands delicately on her folded knees. "From the way Cal has come to see it, Atlas almost wants to be the villain on the track... that he's a little wrapped up in glorifying the whole lone wolf persona."

I clapped my hands together. "See, that's all you had to do, Gemma."

Gemma gave me an eye roll but continued making her case. "Look Sav, I don't think that he's bad for you, I would just hate to see you relive what happened at Silverstone. The same general principle would apply to anyone who made you feel that way."

I scoffed. "Trust me, I don't want to go back there either. And I'm not. After all, I'm here with you, aren't I?"

Gemma eyed me with skepticism, her perfect eyebrows furrowed together. "So this is the full extent of your relationship with Atlas Vaughn? Text flirtationships?"

I groaned again, my patience about ready to tear like wet paper. "For god's sake, yes. I'm making him fucking playlists, not sending him tasteful nudes. It's pathetically PG."

Gemma snorted. "It's funny to me that you genuinely believe curating a playlist for someone is platonic."

"Listen, he asked."

"And if he asked you to jump, would you say how high?"

"Would you?" I fired back.

Gemma sighed and rolled her shoulders back. "You already know the answer to that."

I did, knowing that Gemma and her iron-clad work ethic had never prioritized a man a day in her life. I suspected that would never change.

"How is Red Polo Shirt Guy, anyway?" I jabbed at her with a grin. Gemma gave me a stinging glare.

"I'm sorry. Callahan." I let his name flick off my tongue. "Besides expressing his opinions on his childhood friend."

Gemma scoffed. "Don't be petty."

"I'm only being petty because you're being petty," I shrugged in reply. "Why won't you just admit you feel some type of way about him?"

"I'll admit it when you admit this thing with so-called Alpha Atlas is getting serious."

"Don't call him that, he's not in fucking Twilight." I waved my slice of pizza around, flicking a bit of cheese onto my knee. "And your definition and my definition of serious are drastically different. We're just talking. Sure, the sex was great, but I'm not in a position for anything more than an occasional romp, and since neither of us are going out of our way to coordinate our schedules...playlists."

"Whatever you say," came Gemma's pinched reply. "Just please don't ever use the word romp again."

I took another sip of seltzer and gave Gemma a sly grin. "No, you're right. It's not a romp, it's more like...a gut-unraveling, head-spinning, out of body experience."

Gemma groaned, but I kept going.

"One minute it's all soft and delicate and the next minute we're clawing at each other like we want to draw blood, it's like...sexual whiplash. I like being in control, but..he's just so good at it."

A subtle laugh escaped Gemma's lips. "Á la Robert Frost, two roads diverged in a wood and I was sorry I couldn't be both dominant and soft in bed."

"Oh you do understand." I coyly prodded at Gemma, pouring her another glass of wine as her cheeks turned pinker by the second.

She shook her head. "I think it's just in their nature to want to be in control."

"And in true Gemma fashion, turns a conversation about rowdy sex to an analysis about the psychological makeup of race car drivers."

I sighed and sat back, taking a mental note of how subtly Gemma slipped in the word their. The spaces in the silence always told me more than enough about her. A normal person wouldn't think twice, but the casual nuances of the way Gemma operated was what made her such an interesting human, and why all the space and time between us never really hurt our friendship. For all our obvious differences, we just understood one another.

It was Gemma's turn to slip on a coy smirk. "I also think exploring both roads is a rewarding experience."

"And you could vouch for that, huh?"

"You've never underestimated me." Gemma raised her glass to me and nodded. "I appreciate that, Sav."

The next morning, I woke with an invigoration I hadn't felt in a long time. With 15 minutes before the start of the final, Gemma tugged on the end of my braid one last time.

"Should hold, even with your recent level of reckless abandon."

I scoffed. "Are we still talking about surfing here?"

"You tell me."

I gave her a dramatic eye roll as I sauntered away to the judges booth to finalize my check in. As I turned back to the crowd of people that had gathered on the beach - people who were there to watch me - I subconsciously felt my chin lift. The surge in confidence was what ultimately propelled me forward.

I ambled back over to Gemma, who was leaning on the railing of the overlook. Her hair billowed gently in the dry, unforgiving breeze.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I sighed out. "I have a random question for you. How does that Robert Frost poem actually go?"

Gemma pinched her lips together, studying me behind the lenses of her Ray Bans. "Two roads diverged in a wood and I took the one less traveled by."

I gave her a purposeful nod. "Yeah, well this is me, taking the less traveled road."

Gemma let out a sigh and tucked her wispy blonde hair behind her ears. "You know Savannah, sometimes a road is less traveled for a reason. Sometimes the other road is just safer."

"Well I'm done playing it safe." The weight of my words weren't lost on either of us. "I have to do this."

Gemma set her hands on my shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. "Then go out there and be a shark."

running with the tides
you'll be running back, running back

blue skies / goth babe

just inject #samma into my veins at this point

"it's what the lads want" - w1ldflow3r