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Wyatt Perry’s name was called out first and then the next few seconds felt like the longest of my life.
But then, it was Liam’s name they called out, and I lost it. I screamed so loud that someone in a neighboring room probably thought I was being murdered. I pumped my fists in the air and shouted, “Go, Liam!” even though he wasn’t there to hear me.
I hoped, somehow, that he knew I was cheering for him.
The next heat was the longest thirty minutes of my life, and when Liam wiped out on his last wave I cried out in frustration. Wyatt had wiped out once too, though, so it still put them on even ground. Besides, to me, it looked like Liam had done more complicated tricks. But I didn’t know much, or anything at all, about surfing, so Liam’s fate was in the judges’ hands.
I sat at the edge of the bed, holding my breath while I waited for the results.
I didn’t think I’d ever been more nervous.
“Liam,” I begged. “Please say Liam’s name.”
The camera panned to the two men, both standing in their wetsuits, surfboards clasped under their arms, and wet hair hanging in their eyes.
“Liam,” I pleaded again. “Say Liam’s name.”
I closed my eyes then, unable to look at his nervous face one more second.
Just as I closed my eyes, I heard, “First place… Wyatt Perry!”
“Fuck,” I cried, my eyes flying open.
On the screen Liam nodded forlornly and then did that weird guy handshake with Wyatt. At least he was being a good sport and not throwing a tantrum—not like I’d expected that or anything.
The camera lingered on the guys for a few more seconds and then panned back to the commentators.
“Well, there you have it, folks. Wyatt Perry is still the reigning champion. We’ll be speaking to both surfers after this break.”
The screen cut to a commercial, and I immediately turned the TV off. I’d seen what I wanted, and now I couldn’t bear to watch any more.
I busied myself by taking a shower and packing my bags for our morning flight back home.
Hours passed, and it was after midnight when the door to the hotel room finally opened.
From what I could hear, it was only one person and not the whole group of them.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and cracked the door open.
I found Liam standing in the small kitchen, pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“You did good,” I whispered.
He turned around and lifted the bottle of water to his lips. He took a sip and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. All the while his icy-blue eyes glared at me like I was worse than the scum on the bottom of his shoe.
Screwing the cap back on the bottle of water he headed to his room, slamming the door closed behind him.
His message was final.
Clear.
He was done with me, and he’d closed me out of his life.
Liam and me? We were no more.
Liam
After what had to be the awkward-est fucking plane and car ride ever, we finally arrived back at my house.
