The Other Brother
-- EXCERPT: The next day I’m out surfing early. The waves are gentler today, and while the rides aren’t as intense, it’s crazy-cool being out with the early sun glinting off the water and the fresh salt air giving my nostrils a spring clean. I’m about to head in when I notice a lone runner on the beach. As the figure draws closer, I recognize the lean build and curly hair. Okay, so maybe I time my exit from the water so I intercept him. But hey, it’s a long, lonely fifty-feet walk back to the house. It’s natural to want some company. Cody stops at the start of the path, leaning forward to rest his hands on his legs as he recovers his breath. He’s wearing a close-fitting T-shirt that shows off his biceps. “Hey.” Yep, I should win awards for the most original opening line. I stand there, dripping in my wetsuit, sand caking my feet. “Hey,” he pants. He straightens and pulls up his T-shirt to wipe his forehead, giving me a view of his muscled, tanned stomach. “Heading back to the house now?” I keep my voice casual. “Yeah.” “I’ll be your security detail if you want.” “Thanks, there are lots of bandits in the dunes,” he says in such a deadpan voice that it takes me a few seconds to realize he’s joking. “Gotta watch out for those bandits.” My reply is a few seconds too late and a few levels too feeble as I step into stride next to him. The sandy path cuts through the dunes. “So, do you surf?” I ask. “Nah, I’ve never learned.” “You spend your summers here, and you’ve never learned to surf?” “I bodyboard.” I snort. Making sure as much derision as possible is contained in the snort. Cody raises his eyebrow. “Bodyboarding doesn’t cut it with you?” “Nah. It’s like saying Jimi Hendrix and Justin Bieber are both equal musicians. Or… like Mozart and whoever was the crappy but popular composer back in his time.” “I get the Jimi Hendrix/Bieber comparison,” Cody says. “You don’t need to put it into classical music terms.” “That’s good, because I don’t know shit about classical music,” I say. “You dig Hendrix?” “I play a few songs of his. Mainly on the guitar.” “You play guitar as well?” “Yeah. You ever played an instrument?” “Does the recorder in third grade count?” He flashes me a smile. “Kind of like bodyboarding counts as surfing.” “Fair point.” We’ve reached the house now. The sun is hitting the front windows, turning them into gleaming pools of gold light. But the yard is still in shadows. “Wetsuit off, right?” I say. “Yeah, there’s a hose around here somewhere you can use to wash down.” He rummages around by the side of the house and emerges holding a hose. I strip my wetsuit off. If there’s one thing it’s impossible to look coordinated doing, it’s removing a wetsuit. Luckily, I’ve got board shorts on underneath so I’m spared the indignity of possible shrinkage on full display. “Damn, that’s cold.” I spray myself with the frigid water. Cody’s standing there, immobile. He studies the ground, not looking at me. Because I’m in control of the hose, I can’t help flicking water in his direction. He raises his gaze to mine, his eyes narrowing. “You looked like you needed to cool off,” I say. “Thanks,” he replies dryly. I turn off the hose. “Race you for the first shower,” I say, taking off through the door. I’m not expecting Cody to engage, but then I hear footsteps on the floorboards behind me in the kitchen, and he’s right on my tail as I streak through the living room. We’re side-by-side on the stairs, jostling each other with our elbows. He slips ahead when we reach the hallway, but I tackle him to slow his momentum, and we both crash into the bathroom door at the same time and slide down it, laughing through our panting.
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1 Comment
Sue G.
1/16/2022 10:02:38 am
Sounds like a fun story.
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