Ocean Kisses

Guardian Hybrids

keralis pov

His reaction was almost immediate, like a switch had been flipped. XB straightened up slightly, his teal eyes glowing with a renewed intensity that made me pause. "There’s no such thing as guardian hybrids," he said firmly, his voice steady but carrying an edge that hadn’t been there before.

I blinked at him, caught off guard by how quick he was to deny it. It wasn’t aggressive—he didn’t raise his voice or get defensive—but there was a finality in his tone that left little room for argument. The glow in his eyes seemed to pulse faintly, like the ebb and flow of the tides, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if it was the sunlight playing tricks through the window or something deeper.

"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender, trying to defuse the tension. "I was just speculating, you know? It’s not like I’ve got proof or anything."

XB’s gaze didn’t waver, and he took another measured sip of his iced tea. His fingers tapped lightly against the side of the glass, a subtle rhythm that matched the lingering hum of cars driving by outside. Despite his calm demeanor, I could tell I had hit a nerve. Everything I’d said—about the ocean’s heartbeat, the guardian hybrids, the monuments—it must’ve struck some chord with him.

"I mean," I continued cautiously, trying to keep the conversation from derailing, "there’s so much we don’t know about the ocean, right? Weird stuff happens all the time. Who’s to say there isn’t something more out there?"

XB’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly, and for a second, I thought he might push back again. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his posture still calm but with an unmistakable tension humming beneath the surface. "People like to make up stories about things they don’t understand," he said, his voice even but distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to me. "The ocean’s… complicated. Not everything has an answer."

I studied him for a moment, unsure of what to say next. His words felt deliberate, like there was more he wasn’t saying. But if he wanted to keep his secrets, I wasn’t about to push. After all, I was the one who’d decided to bring up guardian hybrids in the first place, and now I was wondering if I’d said too much.

Our order came out not long after—two plates of steak, each cooked to perfection and accompanied by a medley of vegetables. I picked up my knife and fork, cutting into mine with practiced ease, but when I glanced at XB, he wasn’t cutting his at all. Instead, he picked up his fork and stabbed straight into the steak, lifting a piece to his mouth without bothering to cut it into smaller portions. It was a bit unorthodox, but I didn’t judge him for it. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything, so who was I to comment on his table manners?

Still, my curiosity about him hadn’t faded. As I took another bite of my meal, I found my gaze wandering back to him. That’s when I noticed it—a faint shape on the side of his neck, just above his collar. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but the more I looked, the more it seemed… textured, almost translucent. It looked like fins, or at least something similar, and for a moment, I froze, my fork hovering mid-air.

It didn’t make sense. If he really was connected to the ocean in some way, wouldn’t those features only appear in water? But then it hit me—stress. He was sweating, and the moisture could be enough to trigger a partial transformation. I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he already seemed.

He took a single bite of his steak, chewing slowly while staring at his plate like it held all the answers in the world. Then, without warning, he set down his fork, leaned back in his chair, and let out a quiet sigh. The glow in his eyes flickered faintly as if he were trying to keep himself in check.

“I’ll take this to go,” he muttered to the waitress when she came back to check on us. She nodded, a little startled by the suddenness of his request, and hurried off to fetch a container.

I watched him pack up his meal, his movements quick and deliberate, like he was trying to leave before something gave him away. He stood abruptly, sliding a few bills onto the table before grabbing his takeout and heading for the door. “Thanks for lunch,” he said over his shoulder, his voice tight and clipped.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me sitting there with a half-eaten plate of steak and a head full of questions. The sound of cars honking outside filled the silence he left behind, and for a moment, I just stared at the door, wondering what on earth had spooked him so badly. Whatever it was, I had the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him.

I finished my meal in silence, the sound of clinking silverware and faint chatter from other diners providing a backdrop to my swirling thoughts. XB's abrupt departure left an odd tension in the air, and I couldn't shake the image of the faint fins on his neck. It had to mean something—it had to confirm what I already suspected.

The waitress came by to clear my plate, offering a polite smile as she took it away. I nodded in acknowledgment, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying every moment of the encounter. The way his eyes glowed when I mentioned hybrids, his discomfort at the seafood specials, the stress that had seemed to manifest as those faint fins. It all added up.

I paid the bill, left a tip, and headed back to the bookstore, my steps brisk despite the gentle hum of the evening. The streets were quieter now, save for the occasional car driving by or the distant murmur of pedestrians. The cool breeze helped clear my head a bit, but by the time I reached the store, I was itching to write it all down.

After unlocking the door and flipping the sign to closed once more, I headed straight to the back room. My notebook was waiting for me in my bag, and I pulled it out, flipping to a blank page. Sitting down at the small desk, I started to write, pouring every detail of the day onto the paper.

I described XB's glowing teal eyes, the fins on his neck, and the way his demeanor shifted when I brought up the ocean monument and guardian hybrids. I made note of how he handled the mention of the "heartbeat of the ocean," and how his reaction to the steakhouse—particularly the seafood specials—aligned perfectly with someone who might have an affinity, or even a connection, to the sea. Every word I wrote felt important, like a puzzle piece being slotted into place.

I even sketched out a quick map of where the monument we’d dived at was located, marking it with an X. That monument had to be significant—it was the one where I’d first seen the hybrid figure underwater, and now XB was here, poking around for information about it. It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

When I was done, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the filled page. The notebook was becoming more than just a record; it was evidence. Evidence that guardian hybrids existed, evidence of their connection to the monuments, and evidence that XB was one of them.

The thought made my heart race. If I was right, this could be huge. But I also couldn’t help but wonder—why now? Why was XB so interested in this particular monument, and what did it have to do with me?

Closing the notebook, I slid it back into my bag and let out a sigh. Whatever was going on, it was far from over. XB was hiding something, but if he kept coming around, I’d figure it out eventually. For now, I could only wait—and prepare for whatever came next.