The Education of Sebastian

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sebastian scowl at him, yanking off his own T-shirt. His skin was the same beautiful, golden color that I remembered, but I’d not noticed before how well muscled he was. All those hours of surfing had left him with long, lithe muscles, and a marvelously toned body. In fact all of them were in terrific shape. I wondered if I should get into surfing, although 63F didn’t sound that warm to me.

Mitch handed Sebastian a garish red and yellow board, smiling kindly. And I remembered that Sebastian’s own father had destroyed the blue surfboard I’d first seen him with.

I took some more snaps as they posed for the camera, and then watched as they sprinted into the water and paddled out beyond where the waves were breaking. I knew from my half-hour of research that this was called the line-up. They sat there, a gaudy flock, waiting for their wave. As the swell approached, they all started paddling, their arms stroking through the sea, the green water lifting them up; they raced down the shoulder of the wave, so graceful, so powerful. It took my breath away to watch them. Then, inevitably, the wave broke and they all dived off in different directions, bobbing to the surface seconds later.

After I’d watched for a while, Sebastian caught a wave that carried him into the beach, and he jogged over to join me, flicking his hair out of his eyes, skin glistening.

“You finished already?”

“I thought it might help if I explained some more – for your article.”

“That would be great: it all looks kind of the same to me.”

He laughed lightly. “Not really. See, Mitch is using a long board with a rounded nose. He can work the smaller waves with that, and do some hippy shit like hang ten. Ches is riding a short board, so he can slash across the wave, catch some air and do the more radical stuff.”

I had no idea what he’d just said to me: it was like learning a foreign language, but for some reason his words made me smile.

“What sort of board do you have – have you borrowed?”

“This is a short board, a thruster; same as Ches and Fido. See how fast they’re going there? You can’t do that on a long board.”

I began to see what Sebastian meant about the surfing styles as he patiently pointed out the differences, then named and described the different maneuvers. I made copious notes and was pretty sure I could turn this into a workable article.

“How many guys on the Base surf?”

“Quite a lot: once you’ve got your board, the ocean is free. You can be an individual out here – you know, different from military stuff.”

I got what he meant immediately: there were no rules out here, no regulations, no one barking orders at you.

“Well, there are some rules,” Sebastian said, seriously. “Firstly, you don’t drop in and steal someone’s wave. That’s bad etiquette. The guy who takes off first: that’s his wave.”

“And the second?”

“You go help anyone in trouble.”

Obvious, when you think about it.

“Sebastian, don’t let me keep you from your friends; I’m quite happy to sit here and watch.”

He shook his head and looked at me intently.

“I can surf anytime; I’d rather be here with you.”

I stared down at my notepad, unsure what to say, but absolutely certain that if I looked up I’d be caught in the net of his blue-green gaze. But I also needed to be clear.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Sebastian. I’m a married woman. It makes me… uncomfortable.”

I still hadn’t been able to look up. I dug my toes further into the sand, as if burying one small part of my body could hide me from him.

“I really like you, Caroline,” he said softly.

I felt his hand touch my arm; he was trembling.

I had to look up. His face held such an expression of longing, mixed with anxiety. I slid my sunglasses from my hair to cover my face and stood up, abruptly.

Walking along the beach and breathing deeply helped restore some of my stolen equilibrium.

Why the hell did he have such an effect on me?

But I knew why: I was attracted to him. He was beautiful and sweet and kind – and he liked me. I had no idea why. I mean, I was nothing special – just an insipid, boring woman who lived down the road from him. What on earth was there to interest someone like him?

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