“I barely know him.”
“Doesn't matter. Sometimes it happens fast, and trying to fight it just makes you miserable.” Jake gestured with his beer bottle for emphasis. “I've been watching you turn into a hermit for two years, and yesterday was the first time I've seen you genuinely excited about anything that wasn't underwater.”
River wanted to argue, but Jake wasn't wrong. The past twenty-four hours had felt like emerging from a fog hehadn't realized he'd been living in. Colors seemed brighter, conversations more interesting, even the familiar routine of his morning coffee had felt charged with anticipation for what the day might bring.
But underneath the excitement, something else was stirring. A restless energy that made him want to understand everything about Finn immediately. Where his marine biology knowledge came from. Why he seemed so familiar with River's routines and preferences. How someone could write a letter containing intimate details they shouldn't know.
“It's just happening so fast,” River said. “Last week I didn't know he existed, and now I'm reorganizing my entire mental landscape around him. That's not normal, right?”
“Normal is overrated. Besides, when was the last time you met someone who got your attention this completely?” Jake leaned forward with the intensity of someone making an important point. “You've been going through the motions for two years, River. Work, sleep, dive, repeat. No social life, no romantic interests, no connections that matter outside your research.”
“My work is important.”
“Your work is important, but it's not enough. Humans aren't meant to live in isolation, especially not humans who've been through trauma.” Jake's expression softened slightly. “Your dad wouldn't want you to stop living because he couldn't.”
River felt the familiar twist of guilt and grief that always accompanied mentions of his father, but today it was accompanied by something else. Recognition that maybe Jake was right, that maybe the isolation he'd chosen as protection had become a prison instead.
But there was also something new—a growing certainty that understanding what was happening with Finn was crucial inways he couldn't articulate. Not just for their relationship, but for something larger and more significant.
“Finn makes me feel like myself again,” River admitted quietly. “Not the grieving son or the obsessive researcher, just... myself. Like I'm interesting and worth knowing for reasons that have nothing to do with my tragic backstory or my professional achievements.”
“That's huge, man. That's the kind of connection people spend their whole lives looking for.” Jake raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. “So what's the problem?”
River hesitated, then decided to trust Jake with the part of the story that was keeping him awake at night. “There's something weird happening. Not just the attraction, but genuinely strange things. He wrote me a letter that he doesn't remember writing, containing details about my life that he shouldn't know. And yesterday, he seemed to know things about my cottage, about where I keep stuff, like he'd been there before.”
Jake's expression shifted from enthusiasm to concern. “Weird how? Stalker weird or supernatural weird?”
“I don't know. Maybe both? I keep telling myself there has to be a logical explanation, but the evidence is piling up and none of it makes sense.” River realized his hands were clenched around his beer bottle, his body betraying an intensity he hadn't consciously acknowledged. “I've been thinking about it all morning, trying to piece together patterns, looking for connections.”
River took another drink, using the pause to organize his thoughts. “Part of me thinks I should be running in the opposite direction, but a bigger part of me can't imagine not seeing him again. And there's this other part that thinks... that thinks maybe understanding this is the most important thing I'll ever do.”
Jake studied River's face with the careful attention of someone who'd known him for years. “You're getting that look again.”
“What look?”
“The same one you had after your dad died. Like you're trying to solve something that can't be solved, and you're going to tear yourself apart trying.” Jake leaned forward. “River, I get that this is mysterious and probably fascinating from a research perspective, but don't lose sight of the fact that this is about a person you care about, not a scientific problem to crack.”
“Then don't run,” Jake said simply. “Figure it out together. Whatever's happening, it brought you two together, and from where I'm sitting, that looks like a good thing.”
River's phone buzzed with a text, and when he glanced at it, his heart did something embarrassing and athletic in his chest. Finn's name on his screen, a simple message that felt like Christmas morning:
Finn
Hope your day is going well. Last night was incredible. Thank you for sharing your world with me.
“Speak of the devil,” Jake said, noting River's expression. “That's a good look on you, by the way. The 'someone actually likes me' glow.”
River typed back quickly:
River
Best afternoon I've had in years. Want to do it again soon?
Finn
Absolutely. Let’s try and cook dinner together tonight if you want to come over. Fair warning, my cooking is hit or miss, but the company is guaranteed excellent.
River felt his entire day reorganize itself around that invitation, research deadlines and professional obligations suddenly feeling manageable rather than overwhelming. But underneath the excitement, that new intensity pulsed like a second heartbeat—the need to understand, to observe, to figure out what was really happening between them.
