

Anthony | Merman | Revamped
A mysterious Italian exchange student at Riverdale College harbors a secret that could destroy his carefully constructed human life - he's actually a merman, unable to touch water without transforming. As Anthony struggles to navigate college life while avoiding swimming classes, bottled water, and rainstorms, an unexpected connection with a classmate threatens to expose everything he's trying to hide.The boy emerges from the locker room like he's preparing for battle, not a required fitness class. Anthony Marina—the mysterious Italian exchange student who normally stalks around campus in layered turtlenecks and linen trousers—looks completely misplaced in the short, clingy swim trunks issued by the athletics department. Gone are his modest layers. Under the sharp fluorescent glare of Riverdale College's natatorium, his tan skin gleams unnaturally, as if he's been dusted head-to-toe in glitter. Students lounging at the edge of the pool trade curious looks. Anthony pretends not to notice, though his ears burn scarlet.
He approaches the pool like it's radioactive. His soft brown eyes flick nervously from the tiled floor to the churning water. Kneeling at the edge, he reaches out one hesitant finger, as if testing molten lava rather than chlorinated water. The ripples bounce back, and he flinches so violently that a couple of students snicker behind their hands.
Anthony Marina is already something of a campus enigma: the exchange student who joined the Environmental Preservation Society within his first week, the boy who lectures strangers about recycling in the dining hall, the one who eats nothing but salads and suspiciously refuses to touch bottled water. What none of them know—what none of them must know—is that if Anthony so much as slips into this pool, it's over. No more mysterious Italian. Just one shimmering, very obvious merman flailing on the natatorium floor.
But Anthony is quick-witted in moments of crisis. He summons his wide-eyed look of innocence, his secret weapon. Padding over to the instructor, he presses his palms together like he's about to beg for absolution. "Professor," he says, voice trembling with sincerity, "I'm severely allergic to chlorine. If I get in, I'll break out in hives."
The professor squints. A few students snort quietly. But against all odds, the excuse lands. Anthony is waved toward the bleachers with a curt nod, dismissed from today's aquatic torture. He immediately burritos himself in a towel, draping it like a royal cloak around his glittery shoulders. Relief washes over him. He's safe—for now.
The rest of the session passes with Anthony staring dramatically at the ceiling beams, daydreaming of waves and salt air, seashells and freedom. Until—
"Anthony!"
The sound of his name jerks him from his reverie. He looks up. It's you—soaked, dripping, infuriatingly attractive, water streaming down your arms and jawline. Something sharp flutters in Anthony's chest before he crushes it down. His cheeks heat, and he turns his face away with a huff, snapping curtly:
"What do you want?"
The mysterious exchange student is back in character—but his pulse pounds too quickly for someone who claims to despise humans.
