AN: It's been…forever, I know. It's surprising especially when considering how I finished the entire 3o-some chapter story of the original in like 2 months and I can't get updates faster for this. I probably wouldn't be writing this even now if it wasn't for the amazing youtube which I happened to stumble upon and search for Summerland on. An hour of clips later, and I'm reminded of how gorgeous Jesse is… so here we go. Sorry for the wait! And thanks to all of you who have stayed with me despite the sporadic updates. I will try to update faster, and I likely will thanks to my renewed Jesse kick.

Love his CD Right Where You Want Me, hey? It's amazing.

This is for everyone who has pushed me to get this out, since it is partially guilt that fuelled this as well. Hope you guys enjoy it; hope it was worth the wait

Bradin wasn't the most built person. He was fully aware of the fact that he didn't have huge biceps and his build was not exactly threatening. At the moment, he didn't care and he was going to make sure the jack ass didn't either.

He knew that A) he didn't know the bastard's name, B) He didn't even know which restaurant to start looking, but being the hotheaded irrational and entirely pissed off guy he was at the moment, that didn't stop him from looking.

Of course, upon reaching the first bar, it occurred to Bradin how ridiculous the situation was. What, was he just going to march up to every male in the vicinity and demand if they said something to his girlfriend?

Luckily for him, the universe seemed to seriously be favouring him lately.

Half hanging across a table, this total idiot was sloppily attempting to hit on the actual inhabitants of said table. He was currently gesturing to his slightly raw looking hand and bragging loudly about how it happened.

Apparently, the girlfriend of pro surfer Bradin Westerly had completely thrown herself on him earlier that night. Of course, being the chivalrous and dignified human being he was, he felt he couldn't allow her to go any further since she was clearly taken. He seemed to find it incredibly impressive that he had made out with Westerly's girl. When he tried to tell her no, she had become desperate and in trying to fend her off gently he had hurt his hand. Wasn't it amazing that a girl who was with Bradin, who could have anyone he wanted, wanted to be with him?

"So you're the jack ass." Bradin pleasantly stated as he planted himself in front of the table, looking down at the drunken idiot with obvious disdain.

The guy was a bit too drunk to fully comprehend what was happening, but he did turn to the girls and nod as if to say 'you see?'.

"You're going to stand up. Now."

The drunken idiot, let's call him DI (which incidentally enough he most certainly was about to do), stared up at Bradin.


DI pulled himself together enough to stand up. He measured up to be slightly taller than Bradin, though he was scrawny and looked easily breakable. Not that Bradin was sizing him up or anything.

"So, did I hear correctly? Was it you who made my girlfriend feel the way she did when she came back to my hotel room?"

"Dude, nothing happened…"

"No thanks to you, you moronic piece of shit!"

"Let's not be angry. I was just minding my own business-"

Bradin lost what little patience he had been grabbing on to and impulsively snatched onto DI's shirt collar.

"Let's answer the question, shall we?"

DI's face clouded over. "Well. Seems like you do have the temperament to match that bitch's personality."

Oh no, he did-n't.

Snarling slightly, Bradin swung his fist back and smashed it into DI's nose. With a burst of pleasure, he watched as the nose spouted blood.

Pinching it angrily, DI yelled, "Jesus, FUCK man!"

Civilly releasing the fabric still bunched in Bradin's other hand, Bradin smoothly told him, "Now that we have established that I am not against putting you in the ground nor am I physically incapable of doing that, I'm going to tell you what you're going to do. You won't talk about my girlfriend in any kind of disgustingly gossipy way anymore. Aside from the fact that it's disrespectful to her, dude it's just pathetic that you have to resort to that. If you see me or her anytime during the remainder of our stay in this state, you will quickly exit the area because I won't have you massacring my vacation. And finally, you will leave right now if only to save women everywhere the misfortune of having to endure your desperately drunken antics. Face it, jerk-off, you're not gonna get laid tonight so you may as well do just that- jerk off!"

DI looked scandalized.

"Ooh, look at me, I can surf and have hair that falls into my eyes every time I move! Ooh people worship the ground I walk on so I'm going to walk around and act like I'm a mother fucking God!" He mocked. "Your girlfriend isn't even that hot- you either have bad taste or maybe you really can't do much better."

Clenching his jaw furiously, Bradin kneed the guy in the stomach and delivered another punch, this time across his jaw.

"Wanna repeat that?"

Swearing under his breath, DI gave Bradin a glare laced with fear and slunk off.

Bradin watched him leave, the anger fading from his eyes as he finally got to kick some ass. Turning to the girls who were still at the table and who had been watching the scene with wide-eyed interest, Bradin half-smiled.

"Sorry about that." He gestured to the spilt drinks and squished food where DI had crushed against. Slipping a hand in his pocket, Bradin pulled out some cash and handed it to one of the girls.

They were still looking at him with a look he couldn't quite place.

The girl who accepted the money was looking intensely at the cash before looking back at him. Glancing at her friend for a moment, she hesitantly asked, "Um…can we have an autograph, Bradin?"

Amusement found its way back to Bradin's expression and he quickly signed the napkin for the pair.

They went on to compliment him on that day's competition. After a gratified thank you, he started to leave before one of the girls called after him wistfully, "And really, you can come spill our drinks anytime!"

This day was incredibly strange.

He laughed and took off. He hadn't known he had turned into a celebrity already.

Once he was out of ear shot, the girls turned to each other. "Holy shit! Bradin Westerly!" They split the money and both knew that neither would be spending a single dollar of the money that had come from the hands of the hottest new surfer on the scene.

"So I guess that drunk was telling the truth?"

"Shut up, who cares, he totally talked to us!"

And in another part of the city, Bradin drove back to his hotel and slipped back to his room. Shrugging off his jacket, he entered Jess's room and curled up warmly next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms protectively around her.

She looked at him questioningly and he wryly informed her that the drunken idiot wouldn't be running into them again. She smiled and leaned against him, feeling quite a bit like one of those girls at the bar and completely happy about it.

"Thanks for being here."

Bradin met her eyes and kissed her gently. "Jess, I always will be."