"Are you on anything, Alfred? And I'm being completely serious here," Matt says hesitantly, eyeballing me as he shuts the car door. I look over the hood at him before averting my gaze with an uncomfortable grin.

"What are you talking about, bro? I'm great!"

Matt doesn't seem convinced because he continues to stare at me, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes. When I opened the passenger door it was like a punch in the face. Beaches always did that. Assault your senses. Considering the dull throb in my bandaged calf, I'd say beaches can assault in other senses, too.

Beaches just suck.

"Man, do I love the beach!" I announce, placing my hands on my hips and soaking in the sun. From our spot in the gravel parking lot, I can't see the ocean yet. There's a small dirt pathway beyond the grass hill with trees planted by the city that outline its border.

But I know the ocean is just on the other side, waiting for me. I shiver.

"Cocaine, mushrooms," Matt continues, following after me. "Did you start sniffing glue again?"

"I never sniffed glue," I retort with a scowl.

"Sharpies, then," he corrects.

"God, that was one time. As Frozensays, 'let it go already.'" I slap him on the back and make to run for the grass.

"Frozen didn't say anything, Alfred. Frozenwas the movie. Elsa was – H-hey! Wait up!" Matt calls when I ditch him, Antonio, and Francis, our two older friends unloading the cooler from the back. I don't really want to stick around for them to find a spot on the sand and "make camp."

I feel my heartbeat in my throat, so I swallow compulsively to get rid of the sensation. I despise this place, but I needed to come back. It wasn't up to me.

I need to find Arthur again.

"Hrkk!" I choke, stumbling back when my collar gets snagged from behind, strangling me. I rub my neck gingerly and glare at Francis, who is smiling with a hint of displeasure behind his eyes.

"Ah, ah. That is very rude, mon cher. Leaving all the heavy lifting to us and abandoning your brother, who is clearly worried for you," he tuts, shoving a six pack of cola into my arms. I snort, not impressed by his little speech.

"No reason to worry about me. I'm a big boy."

Antonio and Matt catch up behind Francis, both of them looking uncertain and wary. I don't like these looks. They went away after I put bandages on my feet and got my leg stitched up, but they came right back two days ago the moment I said, "I wanna go to the beach."

"Agree to disagree," he beams, patting me on the shoulder. "Your wandering privileges have been revoked since that fiasco two weeks ago."

Jesus, Francis pisses me off. He mother hens over my brother like it's in his God damn job description.

"Come on, Al. We'll do something with you this time. You don't have to feel pressured to go into the water," Antonio says, smiling at me. I have a feeling it's forced and meant only as a show, but I don't get a choice to fight it when Francis nudges me forward with his elbow.

Well, shit. This is not what I was expecting at all.

How am I supposed to go find Arthur when I have three babysitters keeping tabs on me? I slump, picking at some loose skin on my arm from my fading sunburn. It's not a guarantee that Arthur is even going to be hanging out here, anyway, now that I consider it. But still.

"It's so hot," Antonio moans beside me, catching my attention. He flops back under the shade of the parasol, limbs stretched over his head.

"Do you need more sunscreen, Alfred?" Matt asks politely, coming up bedside me with the bottle. I smile awkwardly and wave him away. I'm already drenched in it.

"No thanks. I'm good."

I'll be good if I never see another drop of it again.

The beach is less crowded on a weekday, but there's still a pretty decent amount of people here. Mostly tourists, I'd wager. That's what comes with being a beach community. They don't really bother me because they don't interfere with my plan.

Where I found Arthur was away from the public and on the really shitty part of the beach. I doubt I'm going to have trouble with a crowd. Now if only I can shake these guys off. I glance over my shoulder to see Francis talking pleasantly with my brother, getting lunch stuff out of the cooler. Antonio is just staring longingly at the ocean as sweat makes his hair stick to the sides of his face.

Well.

Don't wanna put a damper on their party.

"I'm gonna, uh, go to the bathroom. Yeah. I'll be right back," I announce, standing up and almost knocking my head against the umbrella. All of their eyes shoot to me and I flinch, being sure to not let my grin waver.

When I'm five steps away, I hear Antonio call out, "The bathroom's that way, Alfred."

I stop, looking over my shoulder to see the wooden cabin-esque facility on the grassy slope. My mind fumbles for another excuse.

"I meant go swimming."

Jones, you are the dumbest. It is you.

I want to slap myself when I see Matt's eyebrows draw into a heavy V. "But you can't swim." He says it very slowly, almost like he's talking to a child with a learning disability.

"Yeah . . . Well, yeah. I meant I was gonna learn."

"By yourself?" Francis raises his eyebrow. He's so pompous, I can't stand it. "That doesn't sound wise."

"Well, I wasn't gonna start in the deep end," I huff dramatically.

"It's the ocean. It's all deep end," Matt continues. He sets his drink down and picks at a string on the side of his shorts. "Why don't we just eat lunch first?" he offers, trying to placate the situation when I start hopping from foot to foot impatiently. "We've got the whole day."

"I'll eat later. You guys go ahead," I rush.

"You almost drowned last time!" Matt shouts feebly when I make to turn away, clenching his fingers at his sides. His eyes are wide and upset. "We had to go to the hospital to get your leg stitched up, Alfred. If you fall in again when no one is around . . ." His words fade off.

Francis cranes his neck and says something to him that I can't hear over the sound of the ocean and seagulls and people. Matt nods and I bite the inside of my cheek. I'm not going to fall in the water again, because I'm not going to get whacked with a big fish tail this time around.

"I'll go with him," Antonio says suddenly, trotting up beside me and slinging his arm over my shoulders. "We'll just wade."

I know he's trying to appease my brother, but I can hear what he really means when he says this: I'll keep an eye on him.

Well, it's better than nothing, since the next thing I know I'm down the beach with water trickling over my toes. My shoulders tense and air seems harder to get into my lungs when the realization of what I said comes crashing down on me.

My fear of water didn't just evaporate overnight.

"What's wrong?" Antonio asks, standing beside me as I twitch when two kids run by us and splash water in my direction. "I thought you wanted to get in the water?"

I roughly swallow the lump in my throat and lift my shoulder, letting it fall in a shrug. "Is it a race? Can't I just get in there at my own pace?"

Antonio backs away and lifts his hands in surrender. I watch the tourists around us swimming and splashing and floating in the water, but I don't move from where I'm standing. I don't intend to get wet.

"You don't really want to swim," Antonio suddenly declares from beside me and I manage to go stiller somehow. I look at him.

"I do," I lie. "I'm just bracing myself."

He hums in the back of his throat, rocking on his heels. He's not convinced. "We just don't get why you wanted to come out here all unexpectedly. I had to practically drag you on the last outing," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

I stare at his face, frowning when it clicks. "Dude, I slipped. It wasn't your fault, so you don't have to feel guilty."

Antonio's laughter gets quieter. "I'm that obvious?"

"Yup."

"Oops."

"Don't sweat it," I reassure, completely genuine. What transpired that weekend was happenstance, not because of some friends who didn't dote on me when I was feeling petulant. I clap him on the back and breathe a little easier when some of the worry leaves his face.

It's then when I notice it.

It comes barreling behind us like an army on a battlefield. Or something like that. It's practically just as loud.

I twist around to see a hoard of people chattering and laughing, heading in our direction. Directly behind them I can see a banner that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAITLYN. My eyes widen and it hits me that this is my chance. Thank God for lame tourist birthday parties.

I forcefully stumble into Antonio and knock him down when we start to be surrounded by these party-goers entering the water. He makes a noise when his butt hits the water and I apologize over the chatter.

"I'll go get you a towel!" I say, turning into the crowd and disappearing. I can hear Antonio's confused shouts behind me but then he just becomes another dot in the distance, struggling to penetrate the wall of half-naked adults.

Running on sand is really difficult, even if you're an athlete. But I manage to make record time, and pretty soon I find myself at the rocky alcove where Arthur dropped me off two weeks ago.

I'm dumbfounded now that I'm here. How is a person supposed to contact a merman, anyway?

I look around and find some loose brush and pebbles sprinkled about the sand. Not really having any better ideas, I pick them up in my arms and start throwing them into the ocean. The rocks get devoured by the waves coming in, but the driftwood floats back to my feet in no time.

"Arthur!" I yell. I wait for a response, watching wave after wave bombard the beach. I stay positive though, and continue to throw things into the water and call for him for the next thirty minutes. The back of my neck starts to sting from being out in the sun, and I fold my arms over my knees.

I sit in the tide, my butt soggy and my face sweating, waiting on a creature I feel like I made up.

"Maybe I did imagine it," I mutter into my arms, despite knowing that I didn't. But not being able to talk about it without someone looking at me like I'm crazy doesmake me feel like I'm going crazy. My fingers bunch in the material of my swim trunks. "I hate fish . . ."

Just then movement catches the corner of my eye and I look up. I don't see anything out of the ordinary, just water and birds. I squint my eyes, tracing the lazy waves of the water when I see it. A smear of vibrant green beneath the surface.

I shuffle to my feet quickly, paranoid it could be some other sea creature of some kind. I see a flash of scales, but it doesn't get closer. It just keeps swimming back and forth out deeper in the water. I peer around my body and pick up a stray piece of wood.

Focusing on where the green is visible in the water, I chuck the branch, hitting the very brim of it. A head bursts through the surface and I'm staring back into the bright green eyes of a merman. I don't go rigid this time around; however, I do stand slack-jawed with my arm frozen over my head very conspicuously.

Arthur stares a long moment before his head dips back beneath the water. I take a few hurried steps forward, my eyes darting around the ocean, trying not to lose sight of him.

After a couple seconds I see the green making its way closer to me until he's beached himself with his shoulders and head sticking out of the water, his tail flickering behind him and catching in the sunlight. Now that I'm not bleeding and scared out of my mind, I'm able to really look at him.

He's different than I remember.

He's much greener. I'm not sure how I confused him with the murky teal of the water. He's pale like something that rarely sees sunlight would be, and there are small freckles on his nose. But what gains my attention is how long he is. His tail makes up easily over half his body length, and it's wide, too.

I'm surprised I didn't get a huge bruise from when it hit me accidentally.

"Why must you always throw things at me?" he says, grumpy as ever. I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to find my voice.

"Sorry. Next time you want to spy on me, I'll remember to keep that in mind."

His face explodes with red as mortification bleeds into his cheeks. It's easier to take delight in this when he's so fair skinned. Arthur's fingers sink beneath the spongy surface of the moist sand, appearing to be struggling for words.

"I've never spied on you."

"What do you call pacing back and forth out there?" I ask, pointing to the deep water. Arthur's vision follows my finger as his lips purse together. "I saw you for a good couple minutes. Is that a cultural thing, or were you just trying to grow some balls and talk to me?"

"B-balls?" he asks in confusion, his eyebrows starting to furrow. He shakes his head, droplets of water dripping from the scraggly hair on the outer edges of his head. "I . . . didn't think you'd notice," he admits, clearly a little dumbfounded.

"It's the glasses, huh?" I say, smiling uncomfortably. When he gives me the same wary look of confusion, I drop it. OK. He doesn't know what balls are in that context, or what glasses do either. Good to know.

My mind flashes me images of possible mer-folk anatomy – giant tentacles and gaping holes overflowing with orange salmon eggs – before I creep myself out and rub my eyes roughly with the palms of my hands.

T.M.I.

"Well, even if I didn't see you, you're still here. Why are you still here? It's been two weeks," I inquire, looking anywhere but down at him. His tail moves distractingly on the outer part of my vision. I notice the flaps at the bottom are torn up and paper thin. I can see the sunlight going through it.

"I can ask you the same thing," he mutters quietly after a minute.

My palms begin to sweat, something squirming in my gut like a dozen earthworms in a mud puddle after a rain. I can't quite bring myself to say I have a debt to repay, and after I figure out just how to do that, I will never step foot on another beach for the rest of my life. That might come off kind of rude, just saying.

What I say instead actually sounds worse.

"I wanted to see you."

Arthur's eyes widen, his face smoothing out from all the scowl crinkles. I must mirror his expression because damn, did that sound kinda gay.

"That sounded better in my head," I elaborate, taking a giant step back from his laying form. I see his fingers tersely digging themselves deeper into the sand, and I don't have long to ponder what that means until he scowls again, his tail descending beneath the tide and scooping up a puddle of water.

He launches it at me and it hits me square in the face. I yelp, rubbing my eyes against the sting, and stumble backward, where I proceed to trip over driftwood and fall on my back.

"What the fuck!"

"You're lying," Arthur says, pushing his torso up from the sand. He's flexible, I note, seeing that my spine would've snapped in half if I did a yoga move like that.

"I am not!" I protest, wiping my wet bangs away from my face. Glasses are harder to see through when they're covered in water. I take them off and go to dry them on my shirt, only to stop with a huff. It's useless now since he soaked me.

"Are you trying to trick me? Are there more of you out there?" Arthur spits, looking so utterly livid all of the sudden. I see panic in his eyes and it gives me pause.

"No! I'm by myself," I start, when he twists around and tries to dislodge himself from the sand. Arthur is rather good at getting stuck in shallow water, though I guess this time it was intentional.

He did it to talk to you, a voice in my head chimes in. Just like you, he was looking to see if you'd come back. Like you said. Two weeks is a long time to stick around.

My chest feels constricted as I launch forward, wrapping my arms tightly around the trunk of his tail before he can manage to disappear in the water and leave for good. He's scared of me, but he doesn't want to be, I conclude.

I know the feeling.

"Let go," he demands, an icy glare cast over his shoulder. I'm in up to my waist on adrenaline alone, desperately grabbing at Arthur to keep him still. We're in his element and it's painfully obvious when he proceeds to drag me into the ocean. I feel my skin prickle and my stomach roil.

"Fucking hell, I said I didn't want to get wet!" I shout, gritting my teeth and gaining a little more traction on the sand beneath me. My vision goes white the second his tail hits me in the face. I nearly let go of him right then.

"I'm not tricking you, Arthur! Pinky swear!"

I'm not sure if it is the way I said it or what I said, but Arthur immediately goes slack in my arms. I cough a couple times, wrinkling my nose painfully when a trail of blood trickles over my lip. Cautiously, and ever so slowly, he turns around to look at me, his eyes dancing around my face, searching for something.

"Pinky swear?"

I nod stupidly. My skin starts to tingle where I'm holding onto him. This overwhelming heat is distracting.

The merman hesitates before winding forward with that astounding flexibility again. Arthur watches me no more than a foot away before he brings his hand up, pinky extended in the air. I gulp, tracing the outline of the webs between his fingers with my eyes. They look just like the papery material at the back of his tail.

One of my arms snake out from underneath him and I clench his pinky with my own. His hand lingers a bit too long and then he's got his hands on my shoulders, at eyelevel. I blink at him.

"How do you know pinky swears?"

Arthur doesn't say anything and averts his eyes, frowning. He starts to push me backward until he's beached again and I'm sitting beside him. I pinch my nose and hold my head back with a wince.

"This better not be broken, or I swear to God . . ."

"I apologize, but I told you to let go," he explains, like that's going to make up for making my face deformed. I roll my head on the wet sand to look at him. He's lying on his stomach, his arms crossed and chin perched on his makeshift pillow.

Arthur doesn't hide the fact that he wants to stare at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but I try not to show it. Instead, I take the opportunity to stare back.

"Hey," I mutter, my voice gentle and calm enough to be whisked away in the ocean's breeze. Arthur blinks at me, his eyes round in amazement and wonder. I see his Adam's apple bob once as he swallows.

"Hey," he parrots back with the same mildness.

I don't know where I manage to pull half a grin from, but I feel it on my cheeks and in the way Arthur's eyes drop down to my mouth. "We must stop meeting like this."

The absurdity of the situation alone has Arthur grinning back at me almost instantly. I snort, turning my head back flat on the sand and looking at the sky. It's pretty clear today. There aren't really any clouds in the sky, just like the first time I met Arthur.

I log that useless, but interesting thought away for later.

"Why did you come back?" Arthur questions when I'm certain the blood stopped leaking from my nostrils. I wrinkle my nose and wince. Yeah, definitely bruised, but not broken. I don't have to look at him to know what kind of face he's making.

"I told you," I say, shifting when a tide rolls up a leg hole on my shorts. "I wanted to see you."

God, that's not getting any less gay the more I say it.

"But you detest the water. Am I remembering correctly?" I glance at Arthur and see his large eyebrows knitted together.

"Pretty much, yeah."

The confusion doesn't leave his face.

I sigh and run my hands through my wet hair. "Look, let's just say I was curious and leave it at that."

"What about?" Arthur asks, his face popping into my vision as he leans over me. I yelp in surprise and try to sink into the ground. He has a spark of astonishment swimming around the green of his eyes.

"Well it's not every day a person's world comes crashing down around them," I explain on a quick breath of air, sitting up and leaning away from Arthur's impatient gaze. "I never even considered something like you lived in the ocean. I had to come back and prove it to myself that I hadn't imagined it."

"You got hurt. How is that imaginary?" Arthur questions, pulling himself closer to me. I feel my lips dragging down before his hands dart forward and cradle my face. I suck a stream of air through my teeth at this random action.

"You look so similar, yet so different," he murmurs, twisting my head this way and that. I sputter when his thumbs dip down and pull my lips apart to examine my teeth, the salty tangs of his skin invading my taste buds. "Your ears and teeth and –"

"W-would you not put your hands in my mouth?" I stutter, my face feeling warm under his exploratory touches. I know for a fact it's not from the sun. Arthur doesn't seem bothered by it at all. "It's not like I'm the crime against nature. There are billions of people."

"I am not a crime against nature, you prat," Arthur scowls. "I'm not the only one, clearly."

I go rigid, completely letting it slip my mind that it's impossible to have only one of something. Arthur had to have had parents, who had parents who had – Well, you get the picture. My eyes dart to the ocean and I pull my knees up and away from the tide. What else is living in that water?

"But we never seeany merfellas and gals," I explain, trying to hammer my point in. "You guys are kind of like myths." Arthur raises his eyebrow. "You're made up," I elaborate, which makes him look angry. "Haven't you seen people before? You knew what I was when you saw me, and that people are dangerous sometimes."

Arthur's tail collects some water and drops it on his back, probably to keep hydrated. It snakes in, leaving long, smooth smudges against the wet sand as it curves into a half moon towards my body. I peer at him, gulping at the apparent caged feeling I get.

"I know about people," he snaps, though his tone indicates he's unsure about the validity of that statement. "I see them on the shore, but I haven't . . . I've never exactly seen one up close before."

I nod in understanding, letting my eyes flick to his tail, edging closer and closer to my body until it brushes the balls of my feet.

Well, that explains the lack of understanding of glasses and testicles. Not that I'd expect him to be an expert on either of those things, I just . . . Maybe it's better not to think about it.

"How'd you know about pinky swears, then? You guys couldn't have figured that out on your own, right?"

The expression Arthur shoots me before he averts his gaze is cold enough to send prickles down my spine. I rub my arm awkwardly, looking back at the ocean.

"Okaaaay. Forget I asked."

Conversation dies just like that and the uncomfortable smothering feeling is back again. I pick at the grains of sand and rocks interspersed in it, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact that the slimy, scaly feeling of Arthur's tail against my feet is distracting. I discretely watch Arthur from the corner of my eye. He's just staring blankly at the water in front of us. I see the gill flaps on his neck flutter before I open my wide, gaping maw.

"You can touch me."

If it's possible for palms to sweat even while soaked from water, I'm sure I manage it. Arthur cranes his head curiously, skeptically, at me. I backtrack to not sound so creepy. I have no idea why I'm suggesting something that terrifies me. I really don't want him to touch me, but something inside my gut is telling me to breach this biological barrier between us and make interacting a little more comfortable.

"If you want to, I mean. Or you can just look. Looking sounds better. It's just – I mean, since you've never seen one up close. For science, yeah, it's for science," I ramble like a jackass, digging my fingers into the sand. Arthur keeps on staring before his lips pull upwards in a small smile. I try to mimic it but I think I just look horrified.

He takes his time staring at me, running his fingers over my neck, my legs, asking me question after question. I answer as best I can, but even I don't know all the technical stuff that goes on in the body. I do the same in return, and find out everything short of how he takes a shit, which I'm really not too curious about.

Arthur has gills, but he also has small lungs. I find this out when he scoots back beneath the water a few times through our conversation. His skin dries out easily, too. I know this after observing his tail scooping water and dropping it on his body periodically.

His ears look different and his skin feels different and his eyes are different, too, but Arthur still looks pretty human. I am secretly glad for this, because if he had looked like an angler fish or something, I doubt we'd be sitting on a beach all afternoon talking.

When Arthur picks up my hand, observing my fingernails and my skin in contrast to his own, I feel my heart thud an extra hard thump in my chest. It startles me and I slip my fingers between his own. The webbing gets in the way.

"Sorry," I apologize, in case I hurt him by clenching his hand, but when I peer up, Arthur looks amazed. I hesitate a moment, wondering why he's looking at our hands like a mother looks at a newborn baby. It starts to weird me out.

"Dude, you're weirding me out . . ." Exactly. I shake my hand away from his and it snaps Arthur out of whatever that little stupor was.

"People are soft," he states and I bristle defensively.

"I can't help it."

Arthur flexes his fingers and holds them up to the setting sunlight, watching the light streams through the webbing folds. "You break easily," he continues, giving me a smug sidelong glance, eyeballing my bruised nose. I huff but I don't really feel exasperated.

"Yeah, well, bite me."

"Why would I do that?"

I rub my swelling nose gently, forgetting that he doesn't understand slang if he hasn't been immersed in human contact his whole life. "Uh, never mind. Forget it." I step out of the border that is Arthur's tail and dust off the grains of sand from my body. He looks up at me and waits to see what I will do.

"I should probably head back now. I'm probably in big trouble with my babysitters," I laugh, though I actually am not looking forward to getting my ear chewed off for disappearing for what is probably four hours. I stretch my arms over my head, sighing in contentment.

"What is your name?" Arthur asks, looking alarmingly serious when I glance down at him. He looks like he just asked me if I knew my parents were in a car accident or some other severe question, rather than just my name.

"Alfred. I'm Alfred Jones," I greet. Christ, I'm still afraid of Arthur, but despite everything in my body telling me to stay away, I can't help but feel like we're almost equals when my names falls from my lips. Arthur nods and runs his hands over the trunk of his tail. He looks like he wants to say something, and I'm just about to leave when he's quiet too long before he speaks.

"I would like to see you again, Alfred Jones."

Something about the way he says it puts a slowly slithering grin on my face. This is terrifying, but that vibrant green directed at me in the sunlight is almost mesmerizing.

"For science, right?" I say, even though I know Arthur doesn't understand what science means. He stares and then nods again.

"Just for science."

I let out an amused snort and stick out my hand for him to shake it. "Sounds cool. I'll be sure to drop by, Arthur."

Arthur opens his mouth but no words come out. Instead, he takes my hand in his own, twining our fingers together as opposed to shaking it. He stares at our hands just like the last time, but I don't shake him off this time around.

When he finally does let go of me, he's smiling. The green disappears beneath the water and I'm all alone again on the beach.

I don't rush to get back to my brother and our friends. I choose to take my time and let my mind drift to Arthur. My world was so small before, but now that I met him, it's like everything has endless potential. What else is out there? How far does the world really go?

All of this should scare me, and I guess on a basic level it does, but it's also a relief. My eyes are less clouded. I can see much more clearly than my peers.

It's liberating.

When I get back to the populated part of the beach, I'm horrified to see a crowd and fire trucks. I want to groan and cover my face with all of the attention that swarms me when my brother and Antonio and Francis finally spot me. There's more questions this time around when I wander over with a swollen purple nose bleeding into two black eyes.

I dumbly explain that I just fell again, and complain to Matthew for calling 911. Though, given the situation, deep down I can't really blame him too much when I was gone for hours and come back with another mysterious injury.

I have no idea when I will be able to see Arthur again, now that my leash has been shortened yet again.

But even as I sit quietly on the awkward car ride home, ignoring Antonio's withering attempts to lighten the mood, I know that not even my worried friends can keep me from coming back to explore this new feeling. I hold my hand up against the diminishing sunlight and watch it stream through my fingers.

After all, I owe it to science, don't I?