Looking to Lose (completed)

*22*

"I swear to God Mila, if you bump my board one more time, I will cut you until you bleed, push you into the water, and enjoy watching the sharks eat you alive, so help me God."

"Damn Isa," Raph laughs from somewhere behind me. "That was graphic."

"Honey, you couldn't push me off my board if you tried," Mila taunts from her paddleboard, where she is standing easily.

Meanwhile my thighs are shaking in protest as I attempt, for the fifth time, to stand upright on my board. While everyone has hardly gotten wet, I have fallen in four times already, and saltwater drips from my long hair – that I regret not tying up before we got on our boards – which falls around my face in slimy pieces.

"Look at the tip of your board," Elian advises in a soothing voice.

I lock my eyes to the edge of my paddleboard and put my last surge of energy into pushing myself up entirely, so that I'm standing, only slightly unbalanced, in the middle of my board.

The other three whoop and holler, and a huge smile cracks across my face. Understanding that the best I can do at the moment is just stand on my board, they paddle so that we form a small circle, the tips of our boards all facing each other.

We're not far from the coast, drifting perhaps 50 yards from the shoreline. I can see Elian's lifeguard stand, currently occupied by a different, but equally tanned, lifeguard. I can see Mila's sprawling home, perched above the beach on the hill, a long coil of steps leading down to the sand. And behind that, the lush green mountain rises starkly to a peak.

"Do you guys ever climb that?" I ask, raising my hand cautiously to point at the mountain.

"Of course – the view from there is the best of the whole island," Raph says.

"The best view is Le Gros Piton you idiot," Elian replies haughtily.

"Okay, okay, this is the best non-touristy one on this side of the island," Raph corrects.

"Definitely." Elian nods in agreement.

"We could do it tomorrow," Mila suggests brightly.

I take a moment to reflect on my athletic ability. Based off the two runs I've done during vacation thus far - and the extreme fatigue I've practically passed out from each time - it seems that I do not have the physical prowess to scale an entire mountain.

"It's not that bad," Mila says earnestly, reading my thoughts right off of my face. "You can totally do it. Plus, the view makes it so worth it!"

All three of them beam at me with enthusiasm, excited to show me one of their favorite places. How could I say no? If I die of an asthma attack up there, at least I die in a beautiful place.

Yeah right.

"It's not that bad," I say in a mock-Mila voice for the fifth time this hike. "What will it take to get medevac up here for me?" I wheeze out, my lungs scolding me for wasting precious breath by talking. I peer over the edge of the thin trail that snakes its way up the mountain; if I thought my breathing was labored before, it only intensifies as I take in our staggering height. Why did I agree to this yesterday?

"Oh, will you quit being so dramatic?" Mila reprimands as she passes me her water bottle to take a swig from. "We're almost there anyways."

"Tu peux le faire!" Raph says encouragingly next to me – or at least I think it was an encouraging statement, seeing as though I most definitely cannot speak French.

"Sorry," I grimace. "Not even your sexy French can make me feel better."

"You think my French is sexy?" Raph teases. I don't have enough breath for a laugh, so I settle for a swift exhalation of the little air in my lungs. I do think his French is sexy though. Hearing someone speak a different language not only blows my mind – due to my language deficit – but also makes everything more romantic, though I can't understand a lick of what they say.