Page 44 of Hate Mail

“That’s the goal, but it doesn’t always work out that way. We have to keep the safety of the animal in mind. If the otter becomes too tame, like the three you see in this exhibit, they can’t usually be released.”

The idea that none of these otters will be able to swim in a real river again makes me sad. “So none of these otters will be able to go back to the wild?”

“Not these three. We have several more in another enclosure that isn’t accessible to guests. The otters we have there aren’t accustomed to humans, and we need to keep it that way so that they can be released.”

I watch him while he talks about the animals. He focuses on the enclosure, watching the young otter swim playfully, before his blue eyes rise to meet mine. I can see the reflection of the otter dancing in his eyes.

“What do you want to see next?” he asks.

“What do you recommend?”

He takes me to see an octopus, and after that we see the stingrays, which are popular with the children. Another small crowd is gathered around the jellyfish exhibit. We watch for a minute, listening as a tour guide explains how a jellyfish sting should be treated.

I walk alongside the tank, watching the creatures inside. I’m mesmerized by the way they move, and how such a strange bloblike animal can not only survive, but also cause so much pain. The tank wraps around a curved hallway that takes me to a less populated area of the aquarium. It takes me a minute to notice that Jake isn’t beside me anymore. I turn around and see him watching me from a few feet behind. His hands are tucked into his pockets and his head is tilted at a slight angle. His lips part like he’s going to say something. I watch him, waiting, but then his mouth closes again. His brow wrinkles for just a second, and then he pulls his hands out of his pockets and steps closer to me until he’s right next to me.

“What’s up?” I ask.

He shakes his head, reaching one hand up to rub the back of his neck. I wait another moment, thinking he might still say whatever is on his mind, when my eyes land on the sign for the next tank.

“Salmon?” I say, reading the name of the species. “I didn’t know you had food here.”

He snorts, his lip curling up in a half smile. He jabs me with his elbow. “Very funny.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re against eating seafood.”

He cringes, making me worry that I crossed a line. “I’m not a huge fan of seafood, but I promise it’s not because of my job.”

I swipe my hand over my forehead. “Phew. I was afraid that I offended you for a second. I guess that’s kind of like asking a regular veterinarian if they eat dogs and cats.”

He laughs, and just like that, I’ve almost forgotten that I was waiting for him to say something before I interrupted. “I don’t think it’s the same at all,” he says. “I’m sure livestock veterinarians still eat burgers.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I could do it. I couldn’t spend all day fixing and healing those animals just to go home and eat them.”

He leans against the tank, crossing his arms and watching me. “Good thing you’re a meteorologist and not a veterinarian, then,” he says.

“You’re right. I can’t go home and eat a hurricane.”

He smiles and pulls away from the tank, taking a step toward me. “You’re really something else, you know that, Naomi?”

He’s so close that I have to crane my neck up to see him. When I do, he tilts his chin down, and a second later, his lips are on mine. He cups his hands around the sides of my face before sliding his fingers into my hair. My heart speeds up. I stand on my toes to reach him better.

For a moment, I forget that we’re in a public place where anyone could walk around the corner and see us. It feels like we’re all alone, just us and the occasional splash of water in the tanks and the humming and bubbling of filters. There’s something about the way his fingers comb through my hair that makes me feel like I’m melting. I’m taken back to that moment in the stairwell yesterday when it was just the two of us. If I could go back, I would try harder to get him to come inside with me. Maybe then my thoughts wouldn’t have strayed to Luca when I should have only been thinking about Jake. I clutch the back of his shirt, pulling him closer to me, which is a mistake, because now that his body is flush with mine, I’m not sure I can let go.

The taste of his lips on mine is something that I want to savor. I’ve been craving the feel of him, the way his lips fit perfectly against mine, since he let go of me yesterday morning.

He deepens the kiss, tasting me with a flick of his tongue. Before I know it, I’m backed against the wall of the salmon tank. I slide my hands under his shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his back, before snaking them around his ribcage to feel his abdomen. He lets out a startled grunt. I let go, but he catches my hand, putting it back on him.

“That tickled,” he scolds against my lips.

“You mean this?” I slide my hand back over his ribcage and he jolts again.

“Yes, that.” This time, he grabs my hand and pulls it away from him.

“It was brave of you to trust me enough to tell me that you’re ticklish,” I warn him.

“Are you?”

“Ticklish? Not at all.”

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