Alex = Viper
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“Look,” Derek said slowly, setting his glass down, “I don’t usually do this, but… would you like to go to my place?”
Alex’s eyebrows slid up his head.
“I don’t – I mean, I’m not expecting anything, I just –“ the cute surfer ran a hand through his sun-streaked waves. His blue eyes met Alex’s black ones. “I like talking to you. I don’t meet a lot of people that I – “ he seemed embarrassed as he fell silent.
Alex smiled and set his own glass on the bar. “Sure,” he said finally, salvaging the man’s dignity. “I don’t meet people that I get along with very often either.” Their eyes met again. “Although, I’m unsure as to why you find it hard to meet people.”
Derek didn’t seem to know what to say, so he just smiled and stood. “Did you drive?”
Alex shook his head. “My hotel’s a few blocks south.”
“Then I’ll drive.”
Derek led the way out of the bar, headed for the parking lot. Alex trailed after him. They passed a couple rows of cars before coming to a stop at a motorcycle. Alex couldn’t help himself. He whistled lowly and circled the bright red beast, getting a good look in the low light.
“What a beauty…”
“You like it?”
“A Ducati Superbike 1198, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
Alex straightened up and looked at Derek. “So…”
Derek grinned, his teeth flashing in the low light. “Let’s go.”
He climbed on the front of the bike and Alex swung himself up behind the surfer.
Derek glanced back at Alex. “Hold on tight.”
Alex took a deep breath and then wrapped his arms around Derek.
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They raced at highly illegal speeds down nearly deserted highways, following winding roads that twisted through towering forests of trees, finally emerging onto a large driveway leading up to a house that very narrowly missed the definition of a ‘mansion.’
Derek guided the bike slowly up the drive, coming to a stop directly in front of the house. It was large, two-story, with a wide wraparound porch, pillars, and French double-doors.
“You live here?” Alex asked quietly, setting the helmet he’d worn on the back of the bike and approaching the front slowly.
He climbed the stairs leading to the porch slowly, taking a good look around. He lived on the beach. The attractive, single, twenty-something, gay surfer lived on the beach.
“You want to go inside or you just gonna stand there all night?”
Alex’s attention jumped back to the present, catching the playful grin on Derek’s lips. “Sure, I’d love to go inside.”
Derek unlocked the doors and led the way inside. He headed towards the back of the house, flipping on lights as he went. Alex took his time inside. It was a beautiful house, gorgeous, with high ceilings and typical beach style décor. Large, framed photos, absolutely breathtaking photos of a lone surfer on massive swells lined the hallway leading to the kitchen where Derek was tossing a few dirty dishes into the sink.
“You actually live here?” Alex wondered again.
“When I’m not traveling for work.”
“And with your work you can afford this?”
Derek gave him a serious look and Alex looked away, suddenly ashamed. Getting used to dealing with actual people was going to be a more difficult task than he imagined.
“I’m sorry,” he told the blond. “I really am. I’m just so used to being able to say what’s on my mind without worrying about whose feelings I’m hurting or who I’m offending.”
Derek nodded slowly, moving across the kitchen to lay a hand on Alex’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I sincerely apologize.”
Derek’s hand slid into Alex’s and he tugged the Asian with him, heading into another room.
“It’s fine, kind of refreshing actually. Come with me.”
They entered a darkened room that Derek quickly remedied with a lamp sitting near the corner of a desk. He dropped his guest’s hand and then leaned back on the edge.
“So you really have no idea what I do or who I am?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a pop-star are you?”
Derek snorted. “God, no.” He straightened up and finally approached a picture frame.
Alex tried to contain his curiosity as he watched Derek push the frame upwards, exposing a keypad. Derek’s fingers moved deftly, typing out a familiar number, and shortly after he finished, three beeps sounded followed by a mechanical hum. A bookshelf behind Alex suddenly moved forward and slid sideways, exposing a hidden shelf. It was lined with trophies. Surfing trophies. At least a dozen of them, probably closer to two-dozen. Alex studied them closer, noticing that about a third of them came from junior competitions and the other two-thirds were from statewide, nationwide, even worldwide competitions. And all but one of them were first place.
“Shit. I had no idea.”
Derek shrugged. “Come on.” He took Alex’s hand again and led him back into the hallway, coming to a stop in front of the largest photo.
“Is that – “
Alex started to ask but stopped himself, for fear of being wrong.
“Me? Yeah.” A smile damn near broke his face in half. “I was eighteen in that photo.”
“But that swell has got to be nearly thirty feet – “
“Thirty-two.”
“How the hell do you do it?”
Derek squeezed Alex’s hand and tugged him along again, leading him into the living room, where he flipped on a light and motioned toward the bookcase. Alex’s eyes drifted across the spines, reading the titles. They were math textbooks. And research journals. And other books, all about math.
“Okay… Do I get an explanation, or…”
Derek just shrugged, watching Alex’s face for the moment when it all came together.
“I really don’t –“
And then it all settled into place for him. Alex understood. Derek could pinpoint the second everything fell into place. He grinned.
“You use math to surf better.”
He continued to smile and dropped Alex’s hand. “Can I get you something to drink? I think I’ve got beer, wine, and possibly a little vodka left.”
“Wine would be great,” Alex answered, continuing to study the books.
Derek touched Alex’s shoulder just a brief moment before leaving him to pour some drinks. Alex studied the books in the bookcase, reading the titles on the spines, noticing that they weren’t in any particular order, large and small all intermixed, hardback and softcover, nonfiction and journals. Most of them looked older than both of them, but as he continued around the room, the books got newer, until he reached the end of the case, where one particular book was sitting on a picture frame stand.
Multivariate Calculus, Applied Physics, and the Art of Surfing. The author was listed as Derek Webb, PhD.
“You found it.”
Alex looked up. Derek was holding two glasses filled with red wine. He handed one to Alex, who took a small sip and smiled appreciatively.
“It’s good.”
Derek nodded. “I don’t know exactly what it is; just some expensive stuff my manager gave me.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s very good.”
“Thank you.” Derek waved his hand towards the back door. “Want to go see the back deck?”
“Sure.”
They both headed to the backdoor, Derek leading the way out. Alex’s jaw dropped a bit as he stepped out onto the deck. The deck was spacious, lit by a couple lights near the back door, and Alex could hear the waves crashing about fifty yards away. A set of stairs led from the deck to the sand near a stone fireplace that had a few pieces of expensive looking outdoor furniture around it.
“This is amazing.”
Derek ducked his head, a slightly pink color rising in his cheeks. “Thanks.”
He watched as his guest slowly made his way toward the fireplace and took a seat in a large armchair. Alex’s eyes were still wide, taking everything in as if he’d never seen someone who lived in such luxury. Derek’s eyes lingered on Alex’s face, the sharp look he normally wore replaced by one softer, a look of awe. His eyes seemed to absorb the inky darkness around him, making them darker than usual.
“Does the fireplace work?”
Derek jumped a bit, startled back into reality by Alex’s question. “Uh, yeah. I’ll get it started if you want.”
“Yeah,” Alex answered easily. “That would be great.”
Derek moved for the backdoor and ducked inside. Alex turned back to the fireplace, behind which the sound of waves crashing continued to roll in. This place was fantastic, and from what he knew of Derek, just so him.
It had been a long time since Alex had hit it off with someone, and this was possibly the first time he’d hit if off with someone who played for his team or who wasn’t trying to get him out of the closet. He never dreamed he’d get along with someone like Derek; a rich, good-looking, free-wheeling surfer who looked like he’s just stepped off a beach photo shoot for GQ. But maybe that was why they did get along. Derek balanced Alex out.
The sudden burst of flames in the fireplace made Alex jump. A few moments later, the porch lights went out, and Derek reappeared, the wine bottle in his hand, his glass in the other, and a cheeky smile tipping his full and slightly chapped lips.
“Like it?”
Derek sank into the chair next to Alex’s, where a small table rested between them. He set the bottle down and then leaned back, reclining the chair, and propping his feet up on the raised hearth.
“I love it.”
“Good.”
Alex set his glass down and looked at Derek. The sky was cloudy so there wasn’t much moon or star light, but the fire cast flickering shadows across Derek’s face, making the features of his face appear more angular. The red and gold flames in the fireplace were reflected back in the pale blue of his eyes.
“So…” Derek said, shifting a bit.
Alex knew he was uncomfortable with the silence, so he took the opportunity to ask more about Derek’s math and his applications to surfing. With a single question, Derek began to speak quickly, excitedly, as if Alex was the first person that had seemed genuinely interested in what he did in a long time.
They talked about it for a couple hours, Alex asking questions and Derek answering them animatedly, using his hands to explain how water molecules moved within the waves, how those motions affected the physics and consequently the math behind the “art” of surfing. Derek talked about his childhood, growing up in the Midwest but having a summer home in California, learning to surf at twelve, realizing at fourteen that he was good, graduating from Cal Tech at eighteen with double undergrad majors in math and physics, and finally graduating from MIT with both masters and doctorates in Physics and Mathematics at the tender age of twenty.
“Wait,” Alex said, holding up a hand and turning to look at Derek. “You have two doctorates?”
Derek’s smile was sheepish. “Yeah. I’m currently working on research with a couple professors from MIT on the physics of surfing.”
“Are you paid?”
“Not much,” he chuckled. “The money comes from BreakerBoy.”
“The surf wear company?”
“One and the same. They’re my corporate sponsors.”
Alex raised his glass in a toasting motion and then took a sip. “You’re brilliant, and twice as accomplished as I’ll ever be.”
Derek’s smile remained, but his face took on a more serious look. “I’ve been unfairly blessed. I’m just doing my best with what I was given.”
“You’ve been given a lot.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “yeah, I have.”
A sudden and overwhelming flood of emotion washed over Alex. Sorrow. He took a deep breath, steadying the rush that caused his head to spin.
“…Alex? You okay?”
Derek laid a hand on Alex’s arm and the latter turned to look at him. Derek’s forehead was creased in concern.
“Are you alright? You looked almost sick there.”
Alex started and gave the other man an odd look. “That’s really strange.”
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “Just strange, that’s all.”
Derek’s eyebrows pulled together as he studied Alex.
Alex was weighing his options, debating whether to be honest and open or whether to play it off.
“Something’s going on,” Derek murmured. “What is it?”
Derek’s confusion floated through Alex’s mind and mixed with his own confusion. This wasn’t going to be easy. He’d never felt someone’s emotions as strongly as he felt Derek’s. And he’d certainly never been caught off-guard by a rush of it.
“Alex? I’m starting to worry. Have you had too much to drink?”
Alex was jerked back into reality again. He was really getting sick of being surprised.
“No, I’m good. I just – “
Alex took a deep breath and then met Derek’s eyes through the shadows.
“I hope you won’t think I’m too strange.”
One side of Derek’s mouth lifted higher than the other. “I think I can handle it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
His smile was encouraging and with that smile came another rush. Comfort.
“Well, truth is…” Alex sighed. “I’m an Empath.”
“You feel other peoples’ emotions?” Derek seemed honestly interested.
“Not everyone’s,” he admitted. “Just a few of those that I, uh, attended school with. It was only a select few or a general emotion from a group. But…”
“You felt it just now? With me?”
The surfer’s boldness surprised Alex. “Yeah.”
“What did you feel?” Derek was leaning in across the table, his hand still on Alex’s arm, over the snake tattoo.
Alex’s head tipped sideways a bit. “Sorrow,” he answered slowly. “A lot of sorrow.”
“Oh,” Derek said slowly. “Really?”
Alex nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but that’s what I felt from you.” He paused, gathering his nerve. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Derek’s lips pressed together and he pulled his hand back. “Not really.”
Alex watched him put up a few walls. “It’s okay,” he told the blond, reaching for his hand again. “I just thought I’d ask.”
Derek nodded and glanced toward the fire. “I’ll tell you eventually, but not tonight.”
Alex felt the tingle of anticipation. He’d said not tonight, but that he’d tell him. That meant there would be a next time. Alex cleared his throat, filling the uncomfortable silence for a moment, before realizing that he still had Derek’s hand. He started to pull away, but Derek’s fingers caught his and wound their fingers together.
Alex looked up at Derek, who was already staring at him, a toothy grin on his face. Alex shook his head, one side of his mouth twisting upward. Everyone had secrets; hell, he knew that much better than most. So was it really that strange that Derek had some too?
“We good?” Derek asked quietly.
“We’re good,” Alex answered.
And they were. After a while, Derek asked Alex about what he was doing in San Francisco and where he lived normally, and Alex answered to the best of his ability without lying. After a few more questions, and a few more evasive answers, Alex finally sighed.
“Look,” he started slowly, measuring his words and debating how best to explain. “I can’t talk about the past few years. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m bound legally.” He met Derek’s curious stare. “And I don’t think it would be safe for either of us if I told you too much. But I don’t mind talking, and I don’t mind questions, and I’ll answer any that you have the best that I can, it’s just –“
A quick, but firm, squeeze of Alex’s hand brought his rambling to a stop. What had gotten into him? He never rambled. Ever.
“It’s cool,” Derek said. “No pressure.”
“Are you sure?”
Derek shrugged. “It is what it is. If you say you can’t talk about it, I respect that.”
The polite, and strangely understanding, answer surprised Alex. “Well, thanks,” he accepted lamely.
“You’re welcome.” Derek’s eyes wandered towards the ocean that was cloaked in darkness behind the fireplace. “So, do you follow sports at all?”
