Vain: A Stepbrother Romance

by Hunter, Chelsea

  “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 ste
psister 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 - San Onofre – Samantha

  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.