Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

~~◇~~~◇~~

Surprised, George lets out a tiny squeak and drops his head back down below the water to collect his thoughts.

Okay. Not an oval-turtle. There is a boy, "A cute boy!" his mind supplies unhelpfully, a few yards away from me. He begins thumbing through his catalog of memories, searching for any folktale or bedtime story that mentioned humans riding the waves. He suddenly recalls song lyrics that depicted the legend of mighty surfers, humans who commanded the tides with their magical surfboards and walked alongside leaping dolphins.

George peeks his head above the water, curiosity finally outweighing his fear, and begins watching the mystery boy again. He is facing away from George, knees just slightly bent, and arms spread wide for balance. After a moment, he leans slightly to the right, and the whole board turns with his motions. He begins weaving back and forth, and each miniscule twist sends a ripple of movement along the lean muscles that line his back and shoulders. George had always thought all that "magic wave riding" stuff was bullshit, but as he watches the boy gracefully rise and fall with the tides, he decides to give the stories another chance.

That is, until a few moments later, when the board flips suddenly, soaring through the air, and launching the boy into the tumbling waves. For the few terrifying moments that the boy stays under the water, the merman wonders if the boy has drowned or seriously injured himself. But, the board is soon flipped over, and a head pops back up. George lets out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Suddenly, the silence is broken by a horrifyingly loud noise that sounds like a shrieking seal. Is the boy screaming? dying??? George does not realize that the wheezing is actually a laugh until he sees the wide, lopsided grin that accompanies it. That, George thinks, is a fantastic laugh. The boy pulls himself onto his board and paddles back out to sea, immediately throwing himself into the waves again. and again. and again. Apparently, the boy enjoys it.

And apparently, George enjoys watching it. He has been eyeing the boy for the past half hour, floating just high enough to see above the surface. By now, the waves have flattened out, and the boy is casually straddling his surfboard. The bottom half of his legs dangle in the water, and he leans back slightly onto his arms as he watches the sun slowly slip below the horizon. George feels drawn to the boy and unconsciously begins inching toward the glorious sight in front of him. Knowing that he is hidden by the darkening sky, the merman continues to observe the surfer, finally able to stare at him unabashedly and uninterrupted.

He is now just close enough to make out the word "Dream" written in lime-colored, loopy script across the white surfboard. Most of the dirty blond hair has been pulled into a ponytail, but the few damp curls that have escaped fall loosely around his face. His sharp jawline and proud cheekbones are softened by a soft smile and a single dimple. George has the sudden urge to trace his fingers along the strong features and press his fingertip gently against the dimple. He swallows loudly, trying to stifle that unexpected desire, and continues his observations. Dazzling green eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and George swears that he can see the few remaining rays of daylight dancing in them. His tanned skin practically glows. With the sun-bleached blond tips of his hair, and in the hundreds of tiny freckles that are scattered across his nose, cheeks, shoulders, and back, it is clear that the sun-kissed boy has spent countless hours sitting like this, watching the sunset.

The boy sighs contentedly and relaxes backwards further, sinking to lean on his elbows behind him. George follows the movement hungrily, eyes lingering on broad shoulders, a toned chest, defined abs, and a slim waist. His bright green boardshorts rest dangerously low on his hips, and one slightly ridden-up hem reveals a strong, well-defined thigh. Maybe the folktales have some truth behind them because this man is certainly magical.

After a few more glorious minutes, the boy turns himself and his board around, and begins paddling back to shore. Although George is bummed to see him go, he really doesn't mind watching just how quickly and how powerfully those strong arms carry him forward.

"Oh my Poseidon," the merman mutters under his breath, "please let me see him again."

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