Surge : A Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

Chapter
5 Mick - The Lesson

        Jamie
continues to speak. “I don’t have a lot of time, so here is how this is going
to go down. I have a shirt here for you with an embedded waterproof microphone.
Put the power pack in the pocket of your shorts—it’s small enough that it won’t
be noticed. We are going to take you home from here, so you can pick up your
own car and drive down to the beach. We don’t want this to be over before it
starts by pulling up in a big black SUV, getting you noticed. Try to blend in. I
will handle all of the film crews—just make sure you keep your face to the pier
or the beach. That is where the two cameras are set up.”

“Sounds
good, man.”

The
SUV takes me home. I put on my sunglasses, stick my hair into an old hat, and
get into the first car I ever bought. It’s an old, brown, Datsun two-seater,
and it’s a Junker. But for some reason, I almost like it more than my Porsche.
It was the car I has right before I became famous.

I
drive down to the beach and park my car. Getting out, I notice Samantha. She’s
more beautiful than I remember. I can see her long, dark hair and cerulean blue
eyes from all the way over here. Eagerly, I jump out of the car to greet her.

“Sam,
hey there! How are you?”

Sam
looks down at the sand. “Oh, Mick, I was hoping you weren’t going to come.” Her
tone is very somber.

I
laugh. “Well, here I am. When do I begin my lesson as the greatest surfing
instructor in California?”

Sam’s
expression doesn’t change. “You’re late, and I need your help bringing the extra
boards. My van is just over here.”

She
seems a little colder than I remember, but it’s probably because she’s nervous.
Walking to her van, I realize I am staring. She shoots me a quick glance, but
for the most part, avoids looking at me. As she opens the back doors to the van,
she hands me an old, fat longboard with one skeg. It will be challenging to
surf on it, the way I want to. Board technology has come a long way since this
one, but for me, surfing is surfing. I can ride anything.

Sam
grabs one for herself, closes the doors, and begins to walk past me. Butterflies
build in my stomach.

“Hey,
why don’t we get a drink when the lesson is over?” I ask.

Sam
stops dead in her tracks, so quickly in fact that I bump into the back of her. She
turns around slowly.

“Let’s
get one thing straight, here. The only reason you are here is to teach. You
made it very clear last night that’s what you wanted. I am here to teach and to
see what you’ve got to teach, too—nothing more, nothing less. Got it?”

“Well,
Sam, that is, in fact, my condition. If I win, you have to accompany me to a
drink.”

The
look on her face is a perplexed one. “That is all you want? A drink?”

“Yep,
that’s it.”

        “No tricks?”

        “No
tricks.”

Sam
leans in and takes my hand. “Deal!”

We
make our way over to a group of people. These are our students. They stand in
front of us—some old, some young. I keep some distance from the crowd to avoid
being recognized. Sam begins the class in a tight, clipped tone.

“Hello,
class. I’m Samantha. The not-so-punctual man to my right is Mick. He’ll be
assisting me in teaching you all today. Now, I’ve been surfing since I learned
how to walk, and I can tell you that it’s one of the most freeing, most
adrenaline-pumping, most difficult sports out there.”

Just
then, a man from the group comes up to me to introduce himself. I pull my hat
over my eyes in an attempt to maintain my cover.

“Hey,
you look really familiar. Do I know you?”

        I
cough to clear my throat. “No, I don’t think so. Do you live in the area?”

        The
man raises his eyebrows. “No, I did when I was younger. Where did you live?”

        “I
lived in and around Bolsa Chica,” I answer quickly.

        “That
must be it. I used to live there, too. My name is Bill.”

I
sigh in relief. “Nice to meet you, Bill.”

Thankfully,
Sam starts speaking again before Bill has time to ask me any more questions.

“Okay
beginners, welcome to a journey of surfing. This is a journey that you will
hopefully be on for your entire life. Now, surfing is not an easy thing to catch
onto—not by a long shot. But that’s what makes the sport so much fun. It takes
years to master. But what I will promise you is that we will have each of you
standing by the end of the day. How long you stand is due both to balance and
perseverance. So, let’s have some fun.”

The
group lets out a collective cheer.

“Let’s
start on the sand, and then make our way out to the water. Put your board face
down on the beach. Mick, you’re late, so you’re going to want to get changed.”

        “Nah,
I’m okay—I’ll just put on this shirt.”

        Sam
narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you want a wetsuit?”

        I
shrug. “Nah, my blood runs pretty hot, anyways.”

        I
look at Sam, realizing what I just said. I can see she’s thinking about it in
an unintended way. As I take off my shirt, she is staring at my body—I know
that look, and I know part of her wants me. After a few moments, she quickly starts
talking again, trying to divert the attention she had given me.

“So,
once Mick is done with his strip show, we can get started.”

There
are a few chuckles.

“Now…
put your board on the sand in front of you. Good. Now, lay down on it with your
hands on the rails. Nice. There are two ways to get up. One way is to just jump
to your feet. The other, more subtle way, is to take a big step forward and
slowly rise up to your feet. Let’s give those a try.”

I
watch as she demonstrates both actions. My eyes follow her as she walks around
to the group. Sam looks my way expectantly. She waves her hand to say, go help
out. I couldn’t help but become entranced by her. I try to shake the feeling,
but it clings to me like wet sand.

Sam
knows I can’t stop looking at her. On the outside, she appears emotionless, but
a part of me knows her true feelings are beginning to surface.

“Well,
Professor Mick, let’s see what you’ve got.” She motions to me to move closer to
the surfers.

I
step forward and continue the lesson, and I am actually nervous—not for the
surfers, but for Sam to see and hear me. Having her eyes on me makes me anxious.

“Okay,
guys, now put the leash around your back leg like this. We are ready to go. The
waves we are going to ride today are fairly small, so there is no need to worry
about them, but Sam will go over some safety items to be sure you know what to
do if you get in trouble. If you get knocked off your board, the most important
thing to do is not panic. Stay calm and paddle hard to return to the surface. Time
to become surf legends.”

What
I said, I meant. This stunt is going to put me in front of every person in the
country. I will get more attention than any ten of those stupid interviews. I
don’t need to teach now—I need to show my skills. That way, I can impress Sam
and surprise the surfers—becoming a surf god.

I
watch Sam run with the class into the water. God, she is beautiful. As if she
could feel my eyes looking to her, she turns around and smiles. She actually smiled
at me. I think it was by accident. I also think she knew what I was thinking. I
run into the water after her.

As
I approach the water, longboard in hand, I lay the board down and begin to
paddle next to her. I stare into her eyes. If we were anywhere else, I would lean
in to kiss her. But now is not the time.

“So,
Sam, how am I doing? Have I won the bet yet?” I wink at her.

She
laughs. “Oh, we’ll see about that. Your surfing skills are admittedly better
than your teaching.” She playfully splashes water on me as she paddles away.

At
this point, part of me wants to tell her about the stunt. I’m a little
concerned about how she is going to react. That would ruin the whole surprise. I
have to just soldier on.

“Oh,
yeah? Let’s see about that.” I stand up on the board and speak to the class.

“All
right, class, I always say it’s best to watch and learn from the greats. I’m
sure Sam wouldn’t mind if I demonstrated my teaching skills in action.”

Sam’s
look of growing admiration turns to confusion. “Mick, we’re only teaching the
surfers how to stand on the board today, remember?” Her brows are furrowed.

I
look to her and wink. I hope more than anything at this point that I can impress
her—the stunt has to happen, regardless. Besides, she’ll receive a lot of
business for her surfing school from my exposure alone.

I
couldn’t even look at her as I continued on the path of my viral video.
Look
at me, a big surfing icon, afraid to look my stepsister in the eye.

She
now knows something is going on. With only the goal of gaining more fame in mind,
I paddle out to the larger sets of waves and wait for my wave to come in. With
a towering wall of water reaching over me, I throw my hat and sunglasses into
the water and catch the next big wave—high-risk, high reward. I surf with
reckless abandon, all the while looking for Sam’s approving face. As I pass the
group, she looks less than happy with me. I don’t know why—this is one of the
best waves I’ve hit in a long time.

Even
I can’t believe it.
I may not be able to teach, but man, I can perform.
But even that feat wouldn’t be enough to impress Sam. I know that now.

Sam’s
jaw sags. I ride the wave all the way into shore, where the rest of the class meets
me with applause, high-fives, and smiles. Bill, the guy who thought he knew me,
now understands.

“I
know who you are now! You are Mick Anderson, from the Pro Surf League!”

        The
publicity stunt has worked amazingly, but I speak without joy. “Guilty as
charged—that’s me.”

        I
look at Sam’s face as she comes to shore behind the rest of the class. She looks...
sad. The cameras emerge and the fanfare begins, just as I planned. Sam slowly walks
past me, past the excited class, beachgoers, and fans. She doesn’t care about
any of that.

        For
the first time in a long time, fear washes over me. “Sam!
Sam!
Stop! I
want to talk to you.”

        But she’s too far gone. She walks up the beach with her back against
the setting sun with no intention of turning around. As she fades farther away
from the beach, I feel further away from happiness than ever before. My only
chance with Sam has slipped away.

Chapter
6 Samantha - San Onofre

        What
an asshole. What an absolute asshole. How could he waste my time like that, and
more than that—how could he lie? Why does his ego mean more to him than his own
sister? I can’t believe I was considering dating that asshole—for God’s sake, he’s
my stepbrother. I don’t know anything anymore.

        I
begin to angrily pack the gear into the van, still muttering to myself like a crazy
woman.

        “Sam,
please don’t run away. I’m sorry. This did not go as I was hoping it would.” Mick
is approaching me, the last person in the world I want to see.

“Oh.
How would you have liked it to go? Would you have liked it if I admired you? Or
bowed down to you like those lemmings?”

Mick
looks at the ground. “I don’t know, Sam. I just thought it would go better. I
guess I really didn’t think this one out.”

I
fold my arms. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t care about teaching. You didn’t care
about anyone but yourself. You cared about being the celebrity of the hour.
Well, you got the cameras and the money and the fame. You got everything,
except for me.”

I
am shocked that those words even came out of my mouth. I never intended to let
him know my true feelings for him, but in my fit of rage, the words fell out. Mick
looks stunned and stammers, as if searching for the right words to say. I hope
he doesn’t realize what I meant.

“Look,
Sam, this is my life. Ya, I am a pro surfer—that’s what I do. I put on a publicity
stunt to gain popularity, yes. That’s a part of my job. But more than anything,
I wanted to impress you. The way I saw you teach out there—it was amazing. I
may be a great surfer, but that’s about all I am. You have a real connection to
those people. You are a great teacher. I lost that bet before it began. You win,
Sam. You win. I will endorse your school.”

A
wave of pride washes over me. Though I wrestle with the thought that Mick could
be lying, but when he spoke, I looked in his eyes—as far as I could tell, he
was sincere. Still, I feel I have to fight off my feelings.
All guys are the
same.
I repeat to myself.

“Mick,
you can’t just solve this with a kind word and an excuse. You fucked up. Your
whole life has been a publicity stunt. You are a child that is starved for
attention. You don’t have to make everything into a PR campaign just to stroke
your ego. Don’t you know there is more to life than that?” I can feel tears
starting to well in my eyes.

“Sam,
you…”

I
can tell he feels bad by the expression on his face, but my feelings of guilt
are quickly trumped by my anger. “I need you to leave, Mick. Now!”

I
look back at him. There is such a depth of sadness on his face, it is almost
too much for me to bear. I’m not sure what I feel anymore. This is all so
confusing.

Mick
steps in close to me—he is at least a half a head taller than I am. The water
from his body drips onto mine. I refuse to look up. I want to flee, and yet my
body won’t let me leave.
        I feel his breath on me and see his chest heaving up and down; my
breathing becomes heavy. When he is this close to me, I feel a deep sense of
passion and unbridled excitement. Mick takes me by my arms.

“Listen,
Sam. I understand the complications and baggage that must come from this. I
really do. But I can’t risk another day apart from you. If… if you don’t feel what
there is between us right now, then tell me, and I will leave. I know you feel
it though, Sam. You must.” I look up at his trembling lips.

As
I lift my head further, I see Mick’s face. A water droplet runs down the right
side of his cheek and falls onto his lips. He moves in closer to meet my kiss,
and as our lips touch, something within me shakes as if in warning.
I can’t
do this… not with him.
I break away from the captivating kiss, and Mick
steps back in shock.

“Mick,
you have to leave. I can’t do this—not right now. Please,” I whisper the last
words, or they come out in a whisper. A whisper of sadness and regret.

Mick
looks at me with understanding. Part of me feels somewhat gratified.
I
wasn’t going to let a guy come into my life, not like this. Look what happened
with John—do you want that again, Sam?
 As I watch Mick turn and walk away farther
in the distance, I suddenly realize Mick is not John. I don’t think he ever
could be. As the sadness crests overtop of me, I think I may have made the
biggest mistake of my life.

***

        I
fell asleep last night accompanied by terrible feelings of guilt. I deeply
regret the way I treated Mick. It feels like I was just trying to prove a point
now. Truthfully, his stunt would spark enrollment rates in my school, and the
association of his name with my program would bring a lot of notoriety my way.
I understand that Mick helped me, in a way, in spite of his selfish pursuit.

I
had many dreams last night, but the one I remember was all about Mick. In the
dream, I met Mick to apologize for my abrupt reaction, only to have him laugh
in my face. When I look behind me, I realized we were next to the grandstand
from the US Open, and everyone was pointing at me in disgust while laughing
away. I awoke in a cold sweat.

These
feelings I have are so complicated. I simply don’t know what to do. There is no
question how he feels about me and no question about how I feel about him, but
I am not ready. Not now.
        Whenever my mind is full like this, San Onofre is the only medicine I
need. San Onofre is where I surf the long, gentle wave affectionately known as Old
Man. Without a second thought, I place my wetsuit and board in the car, roll
down the windows, and become lost in the song on the radio. I need to clear my
mind of everything that is plaguing me, and if I really care for Mick, maybe
all other thoughts will rush away.

        Images of Mick standing in front of me invade my thoughts as I drive. His
body was godlike. Then I think of that kiss.
I have never been kissed like
that.
In my distraction, I swerve into the median, but regain control of
the car.
I can’t think about him. No… I can’t think about anything but him.

       
        As I arrive at the gate for the military base once again, the guard opens
up and waves me through.

“Good morning,
Samantha. Happy surfing.”

“Thanks.”
The guard smiles at me as he waves me on through, and I watch him watch me in
my rear view mirror.

After
parking and getting suited up, I paddle out. As usual I am the only one on the
water. I spend time just sitting peacefully, letting the waves gently rock me.
I look to each wave falling upon the next; as the tide rolls in, sheets of
water blanket the sand. My senses feel very astute right now and my mind clear.
        Watching the waves I cannot help but think about my life as that ocean,
each wave riding against the current. I look at a massive wave coming in and
realize that my life has arrived at that towering wave. I can either choose to
face it, or play it safe and sit on the shore. It echoes my feelings about Mick.
This wave is a wave I must take.

Paddling
hard, I try and match the speed of the wave.  It seems I am too late to ride
it.  I am on the cusp of being overtaken by it. Most times I would give up and
wait for the next wave, but this meant something more. I needed to prove to
myself I could get into this wave.  With my shoulders burning from the strain,
I refuse to give up.  Digging in harder, I grit my teeth.  Now at the right
part of the wave I jump to my feet.  The wave is angry and wants to throw me
off in it’s wake.  I will not be bucked off this wave, bending my knees a
little further I hunker in for a hard ride. Then it becomes magical.  The power
of the wave pushes me to shore, giving me enough speed to really hang it all
out there. The ride is magnificent. It was scary at first, becoming very
rewarding. I am glad I took that wave.

        At the end of the ride, I flop back on the board and decide to paddle
back out. Off to my left, I notice another surfer is floating nearby. I don’t
recognize him, and at this hour, I know everyone who comes out. He is too far
away for me to make out any of his features. I sit contemplating the parallels
of that wave to my current situation as I wait for my next wave.  I pay little
attention to the mysterious surfer, until I realize he is coming to meet me. As
his face comes into view, I realize it is Mick.

“Hi,
Sam,” he says gently.

“Hi,
Mick.” I answer. Unamused.

He
looks straight into my eyes. “I asked around and people told me you surf here.
I wanted to talk to you.” His calming demeanor is unnerving.

“Mick,
listen. I forgive you. I’m okay—we’re okay.” I say half-heartedly. I really
just wanted to continue to surf alone.

“Sam...
Thank you.” Mick smiles. That felt very unsatisfying to me, I wanted him to
realize I didn’t really mean it.

I
am not sure why I couldn’t speak more to him then, but without listening to
another word, I pick up the next wave and ride it to shore. I can’t surf
anymore today. Not with him here. I look back at Mick to see him catching the
next wave. He really is an amazing surfer. As I turn my head around, a sudden
spinning feeling hits me, and I lose footing. I feel my head strike something
heavy and dull, and I am plunged into darkness.