Pop: Chapter One

    Man, I look great.

    I'm standing in front of the full mirror in my room, wearing nothing but my boxer briefs and some black-and-blue argyle socks.  I can't help but flex my muscles at a time like this.  Almost thirty pounds in just over three years.  Oh yeah, this looks great on me.  I never considered myself a jock before, or even athletic in the least, but after buying a foreclosed house with a home gym, and then moving into my family's manor (still have a hard time getting over that) with an exercise room of its own, I couldn't help but start a regimen.  Still, I can't help but look at myself whenever I get the chance.  Just look at that little vein pop on my biceps.  Not much, but it makes so much a difference that...

    "Chris, are you ready yet?"

    "Wait a moment."  Sam, my half brother, was knocking at the bedroom door.  I quickly grab my slacks off the bed and start putting them on.  Fortunately, one "muscle" hadn't started to flex yet, or else I would be having a "hard" time pulling my pants up.  Both my brother and I have caught each other in various states of undress over the past few years, but that doesn't mean I want to be caught.  I zip them on and rush to the door to unlock it.

    "Sorry, I'm a having a little bit of difficulty this morning."

    Sam makes a show of having to duck under the door frame, even though he has two inches of clearance.  Well, at least an inch.  I find it hard to believe that he turned eighteen just last month, and that he graduated high school this past weekend.  The past four years have just flown by.

    "Doesn't the shirt go on first, before the pants?" Sam asks.

    "Shouldn't you be wearing a shirt?"  I counter while grabbing my dress shirt off the bed.  It is just a shade lighter than University of Kentucky blue, a great match to the light grey pants.  Sam was just in his deep red thigh length swim trunks and flip-flops, and nothing else but a teal towel around his neck and shoulders.

    "Whatever." 

    When I first met my half brother, it was easy to tell that we were related.  Four years later, not so much. The most obvious difference were our heights.  Sam had topped out just over six foot four-and-a-half inches, although his swim coach always listed it as 6' 5" for the "intimidation factor." Seven inches towering over me.  Most of that occurred the summer before his freshmen year, with the final inch spurt hitting his junior year.  I have a shadow of a doubt that he might not be done growing.  When I was in high school, almost every one of my classmates, including myself, started to get their chest hair just after they stopped growing, but Sam hasn't even got a whisker there yet, and I'm pretty sure that that is one area where he doesn't shave for swimming.  I don't want to bring it up, or he would be bragging that he'll be hitting seven feet tall. Either that or worrying he'll be too big for the world, just like when he was fourteen and having his main growth spurt.  He was so much taller than his friends back then, and he was worried al the time about fitting in.  He's "grown" into it my now, but I still look out for him.

    I finish buttoning up my shirt and turn around to undo the top of my pants so I can tuck my shirt into them.

    "Modest much," Sam quips as I finish up.

    Unfortunately for me, not all of those thirty pounds were muscle.  Still, my shirt is hanging looser around my belly and tighter around my chest and shoulders.  Even with it being tailored to my measurements exactly, I doubt I can button the top button.  My neck is just a little wider than when I got the shirt.  I'll leave the top one undone and hide it with the tie.

    Even with Sam being a top swimmer, he doesn't really have to much muscle.  His coach and I keep telling him to bulk up, but it never helps.  While the top of his trunks hug his hips, they are very baggy at the bottom, emphasizing his skinny lower legs.  At least he has a six-pack, but it looks out of place next to his thin arms and featureless chest.

    "I thought you were supposed to be ready by now."  He makes a show to duck down in front of the mirror to check his hair.  He got it cut for graduation, against his own wishes.  The spiky do had blond touches to it.  I wasn't sure if it came from swimming in chlorinated pools or if he had it bleached.  And to think it was once a straight and brunette as mine.

    I get my tie, a lighter blue one with a white and yellow windowpane design, a duck down in front of the mirror to tie it, even though I don't need to.

    "I've got plenty of time.  The ride won't be here for at least another thirty minutes."  

    "Hey, you got rid of the scruff.  You never shave it off."  This coming from someone who has so little peach fuzz that he doesn't have to shave more than once, maybe twice, a week.

    "Interview, remember.  I need to look my best."

    I normally have a two-day scruffy beard, just a shade darker than my hair.  Some grey has started to creep in to both, more in the beard than my hair.  I look younger without the beard, even if it makes my face look rounder.  At least there's still more blond highlights than grey in my hair to balance out my looks.

    "You need to cut your hair, Chris.  Just like you made me cut mine."

    "I admit, my hair is longer than I normally have it, but I need to wait until the right time to have it cut. Big day coming up, after all.  Don't need to mess it up. Why are you here, besides complicating my getting ready?"

    "I'm going over the Mark's to swim."

    "This early?  You don't even need to start practice for college until fall."  Sam had gotten an athletic scholarship to UK.  While he might never be Olympic caliber, he certainly has it in him to be a collegiate champion.  He would have liked to have gone to dad's old school, but it didn't have a competitive men's swim team.  And other issues.

    "Besides," I continue, "it is not ever sixty yet, and I doubt it will hit much over seventy-five by the afternoon."

    "Mark's pool in indoors and heated. Even if it is smaller than ours, I need to keep training."  He leans over to try to look out the far window, but not even someone his height can see the backyard from here.

"And I wouldn't have to if our pool were fixed."

    We were planning on having a combined Memorial Day Weekend/graduation party this past weekend, but the pool had developed a crack over the winter.  We still had the party, as we had the largest yard, but the festivities were somewhat lamer because of it.

    "It will be fixed Sam.  Don't you worry."

    Probably.  It will probably be fixed.  Just not by me.