Chapter Ten
Ten
Reece
For the next two hours, Cyrus sat on the edge of the pool and gently criticized me for how much of a shit swimmer I was.
And that whistle. That fucking whistle.
There was a part of me that wanted to shove it down his throat, but there was another part of me that appreciated how seriously he was taking this.
I mean, Cyrus had done his research on triathlon swimming drills, as well as the appropriate training gear.
Plus, his advice was actually helpful.
Sure, my body hurt like hell, but I could already tell that with his modifications to my form, I was improving.
“Great job today, Reece,” he said as I climbed out of the pool on shaky legs.
I was exhausted and fucking starving, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of accomplishment. It meant a lot to me that a skilled swimmer like Cyrus thought I’d done a good job.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as water dripped down my body.
After I pulled off my goggles and swim cap, Cyrus tossed me a towel.
As I ran it down my chest and over my stomach, I caught Cyrus watching me out of the corner of my eye.
Poor guy was probably jealous.
In all honesty, though, he had a great body. Broad, strong shoulders, muscular pecs, and a waist that tapered into a V shape before fanning out into his tentacles.
It was probably from all the swimming.
This shit was a workout, that was for sure.
He was still staring as I wrapped the towel around my waist. Being the center of his attention, those wide eyes fixed on me, made me feel unnerved—flustered even.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll get changed and we can go. I’ll drive if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” He put his arms behind his back and shifted on his tentacles.
Gods, this was going to be interesting.
I changed as fast as I could. On the off chance Cyrus agreed to lunch, I’d packed clothes for going out rather than my usual summer athleisure attire, opting for a short-sleeve Henley, khaki shorts, and boat shoes.
It was funny I even cared, though, considering Cyrus was essentially always in the nude.
What a weird concept.
I wondered what was underneath that parachute of tentacles.
How did he go to the bathroom?
Did he have a cock?
What the actual fuck?
Was I really thinking about Cyrus’s cock?
I shook my head and walked out to the pool deck, where Cyrus was waiting for me by the door.
When he heard my boat shoes clopping against the concrete, he looked in my direction and flashed me those piranha teeth. “Are you sure you don’t mind driving?” he asked, looking me up and down.
Fuck.
He was totally checking me out.
I didn’t blame him. I looked fucking good. But still, we had an agreement as coach and trainer. I didn’t need shit getting weird.
“I don’t mind at all,” I said. “It was my idea anyway.”
We walked side by side down the hallway to the front lobby.
“How was training?” Atlas asked from behind the desk.
I puffed out a harsh breath. “You didn’t tell me this guy is an absolute hard-ass. I haven’t had a workout like that in years. That whistle is going to haunt me in my dreams.”
Atlas barked out a laugh. “I told Cyrus you were going to love the whistle.”
“I think it helped Reece take me seriously,” Cyrus said. “He’s already improving. By the time the triathlon rolls around, he’ll be the best swimmer in Briar Glenn.”
There was something about Cyrus’s praise that made me feel warm inside. I couldn’t tell if I was proud of myself or if I was happy that Cyrus was proud of me. Maybe it was a little bit of both.
“That title belongs to you, but I’ll gladly take second-best swimmer,” I said. “Shit, I’ll take completing the swim with a decent time and moving on to the rest of the race.” I smiled, and as if on instinct, I grabbed Cyrus’s shoulder and gave it a playful shove.
His skin was so soft and cool underneath my palm, but he wasn’t slimy like a fish. It was actually kind of nice. I felt like even more of a dickhead for how I’d acted at the party, because here I was, giving Cyrus my own innocent little touch.
Atlas looked at where my hand gripped Cyrus, and he raised his eyebrows, his muzzle curling up in a sly grin.
Shit.
I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat. “Well, we’d better get going.”
My body went rigid.
Really, Reece? We?
Atlas smiled even wider. “Oh yeah? Where are you going?”
“We’re going to that sushi place over in Rock Harbor. You know, the one Fallon loves,” Cyrus chimed in.
Did he not get what this looked like?
Or did he just not care?
He was checking me out earlier by the pool, so…
“I’ll let you two get going, then,” Atlas said. “Have a nice lunch.”
We said our goodbyes, and the moment we were in the parking lot, Cyrus broke the silence. “Was it just me or was he acting weird?”
I stopped dead in my tracks and whipped around to face him. His deep teal coloring was even more impressive in the sun, and I could see myself reflected in the depths of his wide dark eyes. “Are you fucking oblivious, Cyrus? Atlas thinks this is a date or something.”
“Well, is it?” Cyrus asked with a straight face.
“Fuck no!” I blurted out, and he laughed, the translucent fins along his neck vibrating.
“Then why does it matter what Atlas or anyone else thinks?”
“It matters because I don’t want Atlas telling my sister I’m putting the moves on his friends. I want to make it clear that we’re just two bros going out to get sushi.”
Those sharp piranha teeth were on full display with his smile. “Two bros, you say? I didn’t realize I was going to lunch with Fallon.”
“Oh, fuck off. Don’t even compare me to that giant chicken.” I rolled my eyes. “Get in the car.”
Cyrus’s fins flapped slightly as he stifled a laugh. He climbed into the passenger seat beside me, tucking his tentacles into the footwell before clicking on his seat belt. I was curious how this was going to work, but Cyrus seemed to manage just fine.
“You’re insufferable, you know that? Giving me shit in the pool and out of it. A guy can’t even catch a break when he’s trying to do something nice for you.”
“Yes, poor Reece. Getting a taste of your own medicine. That must be very difficult for you.”
“I really am trying, you know.” My voice was a shy whisper.
“Hey,” he said with a kind smile. “I know you’re trying. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
—
Rock Harbor was the closest big city to Briar Glenn.
Sure, it was no New York City, but there were still towering business offices and cramped one-way streets.
The college, waterfront, and hospital made it an appealing place to live and work.
They also made it loud and crowded. I tended to avoid Rock Harbor at all costs, but Kyodai was my favorite sushi restaurant. For good food, I’d make an exception.
I parked in the closest parking garage, and Cyrus and I walked down the sidewalk toward the restaurant. Well, I walked. Cyrus propelled himself along on his tentacles.
I looked over at him. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Doesn’t it hurt? Your tentacles rubbing on a hard surface like that?”
He raised one of his tentacles to show me the underside.
His skin was paler there, a light, almost white blue with rows of quarter-size suction cups running down its length.
“The suckers on the underside serve as little feet, gently pulling me along. As long as I stay hydrated, it doesn’t hurt at all. ”
“Cool,” I murmured. It was weird as fuck, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.
When we reached the front door, Cyrus grabbed the handle with a tentacle, holding it open for me.
“Thanks,” I said, and stepped inside.
Kyodai was a sleek, modern sushi restaurant. A rotating bar sat in the center of the room, with sushi chefs working inside it. They prepared the sushi rolls and set them on the little conveyor belt for customers to grab.
For a weekday, the place was packed. People dressed in business attire sat at the bar, and college students filled the booths that lined the room.
We walked up to the hostess station and a young minotaur greeted us. “Welcome to Kyodai. Just the two of you today?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Would you like to sit at the rotating bar or in a booth?” the hostess asked.
I turned and looked at Cyrus for an answer. I wasn’t sure how tentacles would work on a barstool, but I figured it was best not to be presumptuous.
“We’ll take a booth, please,” he said.
There was so much about Cyrus that was a mystery to me. For some reason, he piqued my interest, and I wanted to learn more about him.
We shuffled into the booth, with me on one side and Cyrus on the other.
“Someone will be over to take your drink order shortly. Enjoy your meal.” The hostess set our menus down and returned to the podium at the front of the restaurant.
Cyrus held his menu in his webbed hands, with one tentacle wrapped around each of his arms. The ones he kept wound around his forearms were slightly smaller than the tentacles he used to move, but they were still about the size of my wrist before tapering to a rounded tip.
Why were those tentacles different from the ones he used to move?
Maybe because they were meant to be used as another set of hands?
Gods, he was interesting.
Cyrus hummed, reminding me that we were at a restaurant together and I was just sitting at the table, rudely staring at his tentacles.
“I don’t even know what to pick,” he said, scanning the menu. “I haven’t been here in ages and everything sounds so good.”
I bit my lip and shifted my attention to my menu, needing to fixate on something other than Cyrus. What was with this newfound fascination with him?
“So, uh, are you a sushi guy or a sashimi guy?” I asked. “I like both, but I tend to prefer sushi. If someone says they don’t like the California roll, they’re a liar.”
Cyrus snorted. “I didn’t expect you to be so passionate about sushi.”
“What can I say? I enjoy good food. Sweets are my kryptonite, though.”
Just as Cyrus was about to say something, the waitress walked up to our table.