This was far more interesting than his probation texts.
By Friday, Connor was unable to stifle the yawns that came from hours of watching for the merman. He snagged one of the harder texts stolen from his dad’s collection and sat with his back against the glass. He flipped idly through the pages, seeking something relevant to the merman. A dark ripple shadowed the page.
Connor stilled.
He turned his head, his heart thumping with anticipation. An elfin face. Beautiful. Ethereal. The only space between them was a few panes of glass. Connor’s breath hitched.
He floated in front of Connor, his tail swaying gracefully in the ocean currents, pale fingertips pressed to the glass. His blue eyes, a dark shade like the ocean at night, were trained on Connor. His eyes seemed to sparkle with intellect, conveying in heartbeats what days of research failed to. An exhilarating thrill coursed through his veins.
Connor twisted his body around, his movements deliberate and slow, so as not to scare away the creature. The heavy textbook slipped from his lap, striking the floor with a dull thud. The merman’s gaze jumped to the book, but he didn’t retreat.
The merman was mesmerising. His angular bone structure, his cool-rose lips—and those eyes. Connor was entranced. With difficulty, he forced his gaze to stray lower. The merman's abs were a mixture of human-like skin and scales, gradually fading from one to the other. Distinctive half-moon scales that glittered in varying iridescent hues covered the tail. Connor studied it, unsure if the green and blue were its true colours or if it was simply mirroring the shades of the surrounding environment.
The merman’s hand swept down, caressing the gradient where skin transitioned to scales. His chin lifted, eyes boring into Connor with a look of…pride? Connor considered. The merman had touched the same spot last time, looking—to Connor’s eyes—dissatisfied.And now hewantsme to look there...
“Are you trying to show off?” Connor smiled.
The merman’s eyes widened, gaze fixing on Connor’s mouth. Skin fluttered out and flared underneath his jaw, the faintest hint of pink on the edges. Gills? His ribs were etched with similar long, thin slits that fluttered in the water.
Connor couldn't help but smile, but he quickly brought his hands up to his face to muffle it. A recent biology book he’d read stated that humans were the only species that smiled, as other creatures from the animal kingdom interpreted the display of teeth as a warning. Connor would hate to scare him off.
The merman’s head jerked sideways, giving Connor a clear view of the gills beneath his jaw. Connor shivered as he looked at the delicate pink flesh. He knew fish had gills, but it felt uncomfortable to see something humanoid with their lungs so close to the surface, vulnerable to the outside.
With trepidation, Connor followed the merman's gaze, worrying that he’d see a shark's silhouette in the water. The merman was much larger than anything living in these waters, but without any sharp teeth, he couldn't match the attack power of the infrequent sharks who were spotted here. Underwater slaps were no deterrent.
The door at the end of the corridor swung open. Arthur stepped out of his office, the sound of his footsteps echoing. He froze in place, eyes widening as they landed on the merman. The empty coffee jug slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground. The merman shoved off the glass wall and whirled around, his tail moving in a powerful motion that sent him rocketing into the water weeds. The weeds tangled around him like tentacles, slowing his retreat until he was able to break free and plunge into the ocean’s murky depths. Connor watched him disappear into the dark with a feeling of loss. An entire week of waiting for thirty seconds.
Disgruntled, Connor fixed Arthur with an icy stare. “You scared him off.”
“I scared him off?” Arthur repeated airily. “I scared him—he was—Ben!” Arthur rushed forward, crunching broken glass under his feet, and he skidded to a stop beside Connor. The smell of fish and stale coffee wafted from Arthur’s clothes.
Arthur stared out at the water, eyes urgently seeking.
Another door opened; Ben leaned out of the doorway. “What is it?” His expression fell when he saw the shattered remains of the coffeepot. “That is a problem.”
“Not the coffee!” Arthur cried. “A juvenile, a male one, was at the glass!” Arthur’s green eyes swept from his dad to him, and he stared at Connor with curiosity bursting in his eyes. “What was he doing?”
“Chilling with me,” Connor grumbled. He tried to stay positive, but the sour taste of disappointment lingered in his mouth.
Ben picked his way through the coffee pot graveyard. “He came back?”
“Back?” Arthur whirled on Ben. “You didn’t tell me he came at all!”
“Ah,” Ben replied mildly. “It slipped my mind.”
Arthur seemed as though he wanted to throttle Ben. Part of Connor was glad to find that his dad's absentmindedness extended beyond his family. He stood up, retrieving his textbook from the ground.
“He came to the glass again?” Ben directed the question to Connor.
“He did,” Connor said. He retrieved a dustpan and brush and listened to Arthur and Ben’s conversation as he cleaned the glass, but it was just his dad repeating what had happened a few days ago. Connor dumped the broken glass into a bin and approached the two intrigued scientists.
“If you give me the keys to the Jeep, I can get a new coffee pot.” Connor held out his hand. “You can be free to look over your footage and have coffee on the way.”
“Good idea,” Ben praised, absently digging out the keys from his pocket and handing them over.
Connor went upstairs and settled into the driver’s seat in the Jeep. He realised the aftereffects of the merman encounter, as the cold air from the open windows blew across his skin, cooling drying sweat on his body.
All week he’d waited. For only thirty seconds.
