Currents and Contact

A swim in the summer sea takes an unexpected turn when Ethan's gaze locks with a stranger across the water, sparking an uncomfortable yet undeniable connection amidst the crashing waves and the quiet hum of beach life.

The surge pulled at Ethan, a gentle, insistent hand at his waist, trying to coax him further out. He let it, just a little, the water around his chest still biting, a cold ache that felt almost good. There was a dull throb in his left shoulder, a lingering reminder of yesterday's clumsy fall on the rocks. He squinted, wiping water from his eyes, the sunlight a blinding smear across the horizon. He’d come out here to clear his head, to drown out the low thrum of parental expectation that had been buzzing in his ears since breakfast. Instead, he just felt… raw.

He pushed a hand through his damp hair, salty water dripping down his forehead. Another wave built, peaked, then crashed over him, a temporary wall of sound and foam. When he surfaced, gasping, he saw him. Just there. Maybe fifty metres away, maybe more. Another boy, treading water, facing the shore. But not quite. His head was turned, just enough. Their eyes met. And it wasn't a quick glance, not the usual casual dismissal of strangers on a crowded beach.

This was something else. A flicker. A jolt. The air went thin around Ethan, the roar of the waves suddenly muted. The boy's eyes, even from this distance, were dark, unblinking. Too intense. He had dark hair, slicked back by the water, and his shoulders were broad, catching the light. Ethan’s heart hammered, a frantic drum against his ribs. It was stupid. It was just a glance. Why did his stomach feel like it was trying to tie itself in knots?

He broke the contact first, looking away, splashing his hands a little too aggressively. The cold suddenly felt colder, creeping up his spine. He couldn’t just… stare back. That was weird. He wasn't weird. Just… observant. Yeah. Observant.

When he risked another look, the boy was still there, a darker silhouette against the bright glare. But he was moving now, slowly, inexorably, towards him. Ethan felt a prickle of heat rise on his neck, contradicting the shivers racing through him. He should swim away. Back to the safety of the shallow waves, where kids shrieked and adults chatted under umbrellas. But his legs felt heavy, rooted in the shifting water.

### A Closer Approach

The distance closed. The boy’s features sharpened: a faint scruff on his jaw, a slight frown between his eyebrows, a small, silver stud in his left ear. He wasn't smiling. Just… watching. He stopped a few metres from Ethan, the water lapping gently between them.

“Cold, isn’t it?” the boy asked, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly deep for someone his age. Canadian English, soft at the edges.

Ethan swallowed, his throat dry. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice coming out a little hoarse. “Freezing.”

The boy gave a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Feels like it’s straight off the North Pole.” He shifted, running a hand through his already wet hair, a nervous gesture. Ethan noticed goosebumps pricking at his tanned arms. He wasn’t as unfazed as he looked. Good. That made Ethan feel marginally less exposed.

“Right?” Ethan said, trying to sound normal, like this was just a regular, run-of-the-mill beach chat. He kicked his feet, sending a small spray of water up. He wondered if his own goosebumps were visible. He hoped not. He also hoped he hadn't said 'right' twice. God, he was a mess.

There was a brief, awkward silence, filled only by the rhythmic crashing of the waves. Ethan watched a particularly large wave roll in, crest, and then unfurl onto the shore. He really needed to just… say something. Anything. But his mind was a blank slate, scrubbed clean by the combination of cold water and unexpected scrutiny.

The boy cleared his throat, a small, gravelly sound. “I keep thinking it’ll get warmer the further out you go,” he said, a hint of dry humour in his tone. “But it’s a lie, isn’t it? Just keeps getting colder.”

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed, managing a small, tentative smile. “A cruel, cruel lie.” The smile felt brittle, like it might shatter. He was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body, the way the cold made his teeth want to chatter, the slight tremble in his hands from being in the water so long. He wanted to rub his arms, but that would be too obvious. Too vulnerable.

---

The boy’s gaze lingered on Ethan's face, then drifted to his shoulders, then back up. It wasn’t a leer, not exactly, but it was… thorough. It made Ethan's skin prickle in a new way, a confusing mix of apprehension and something else, something warm and unfamiliar that coiled low in his gut. He was vaguely aware of a distant seagull's cry, the muffled chatter of beachgoers, but it all felt distant, like background noise to the intense focus of this interaction.

“So, you just like… swim out here for fun?” the boy asked, pushing his dark, wet fringe off his forehead. He looked younger up close, maybe a year or two older than Ethan’s seventeen. Or maybe just more self-possessed.

Ethan shrugged, trying to keep his shoulders from hunching against the cold. “Something like that. Clears my head.” He hoped that didn't sound too morose. He really didn’t want to seem like some moody, introspective poet right now.

“Yeah,” the boy said again, a thoughtful hum. He didn’t elaborate, just let the quiet hang. Ethan appreciated it. He didn’t feel pressured to fill the space. The boy’s eyes, a deep hazel colour now that he was closer, held a surprising kindness in them, despite the initial intensity. They scanned Ethan's face, a silent question.

“I’m Corey, by the way,” he said, extending a hand out of the water, not quite offering a handshake but more a formal gesture of introduction. His fingers were long, the nails clipped short.

Ethan stared at the offered hand, then at Corey's face. The waves pushed at him, threatening to upset his balance. He should take it. That’s what people did. But his own hand felt stiff, reluctant. His name felt heavy on his tongue, a secret. He hadn’t expected this. Not today. Not here. He had just wanted to swim. To be alone. But now… Corey was here.

“Ethan,” he finally managed, the word a small, almost swallowed sound in the vastness of the ocean.

Corey's lips curved into a slow, almost imperceptible smile, one corner lifting slightly. “Ethan,” he repeated, testing the sound of it, his gaze still fixed on Ethan's, unwavering. And for a strange, fleeting second, Ethan felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the way Corey said his name, a soft invitation hanging in the salty air.

But then Corey’s smile faded slightly, and his eyes, those intense hazel eyes, dipped down, not to Ethan’s chest or shoulders, but to his legs, then lower, below the surface of the water, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement that left Ethan’s heart leaping into his throat, suddenly conscious of the hidden currents swirling around his lower body, and the unspoken questions that hung between them, as deep and unknowable as the ocean itself.

His hand, still hovering, dropped back into the water, and he pushed off a little, a small ripple of movement. “Well,” Corey said, and the single word seemed to echo, pregnant with possibility, or perhaps, with an ending that hadn't quite arrived. Ethan watched his face, unable to discern what he meant, or what he might do next. The uncertainty was a sharp, exciting ache, twisting low in Ethan's gut, telling him that this wasn’t over, not yet, not even close.