Page 16 of Second Tide's the Charm
She locks eyes with Hope. “I know it might seem overwhelming. But we do important work and have a lot of fun in the process.”
Gabe nods, grabbing his laptop. “Heck yeah we do. And don’t let this guy convince you otherwise.” His black hair is tousled from running his hands through it, but he smiles at Hope like this is a typical day, and I’m grateful to him for making the effort to put her at ease.
“Whatever you decide, it was good to meet you, Hope...” he rolls the word into the next sentence “...we didn’t scare you away.” He waits, expectant, and she smiles.
“If you didn’t before, the bad puns will,” I say, grumpy in the face of his good-natured ease.
She shakes her head. “No such thing.”
Grinning, he says, “Knew we’d get along.” He climbs off the boat, and Marissa makes a move to follow.
“Where are you going?” I ask, with the feeling of being swept out to sea by the undertow. This is all happening so fast, and I can’t seem to find my footing.
“Not far, I’m her ride.” Marissa gives my shoulder a squeeze on her way past—perhaps a show of support or a warning not to mess things up. Ironic, coming from the person who got us into this mess. “Be good to each other.”
Hope and I used to be good to each other. Goodforeach other. Now, aside from sharks and our dating history, there’s far more that separates than unites us. I heave a deep breath to steady myself, and when I exhale, we’re alone.
nine
adrian
We moved to the shade under the boat’s canopy, meager defense against the midday temps, but better than roasting out on deck without the ocean breeze to cool us off. Unfortunately, it’s a close fit for two in here, which means we’re now nearly chest-to-chest, and while I may be tied up in knots over the situation, I’ll never be too far gone not to be overcome by Hope’s beauty.
She doesn’t give any signs of suffering a similar distraction. “You want me to leave,” she says. Not true. All I ever wanted was for her to stay, but it’s too late for that. She crosses her arms. “I heard you arguing with Marissa earlier. You want me off the team.”
“That would imply you’re on it,” I say, and hurt flashes in her eyes. “I know it’s not your fault, but Marissa should’ve checked with me.”
“If it’s my qualifications you’re opposed to, you’re welcome to call my previous supervisor for a reference.”
“Hope, c’mon. You know I’m well aware you’re more than qualified.” I studied with her for countless exams, celebrated with her after she defended her thesis. We know each other’s résumés as well as our own, and hers would qualify her for many competitive jobs. Which is why I can’t understand why she’d want to be here.
“Under other circumstances...” My throat is dry, and I break off. If she was a stranger, it would be amazing to work with someone so knowledgeable and passionate about sharks. But I wouldn’t change our dating history, not for all the heartache in the world.
We were bound to run into one another again, but not like this. I can’t handle an entire summer of watching every possiblewhat-iffloat through my mind. A summer of irrational hope that things might work out, only to be left behind again.
“You mean, like if we hadn’t dated?” she asks, giving voice to my thoughts, and her defiant tone makes my hackles rise.
How is she able to move past it so easily? I rake a hand over my head, forgetting the locs, her nearness transporting me back to when we were dating, and I wore my hair short. The brush of hair against my shoulders is a tangible reminder that things between us have changed, and this isn’t someone I can be open with, not someone who I can bare my soul to anymore.
Hope’s forehead glistens with a sheen of sweat, and I seize on the best way to keep my emotions in check: polite distance. Manners. Southern hospitality can be a two-edged sword.
“It’s hot out here.” I wave a hand toward a small cooler—not the one she tripped into earlier. “Would you like something to drink?”
She blinks at me. “Uh, yeah, actually.”
Gran always said common courtesy is a good place to start in tough times, and this is certainly one of those. I walk to the cooler I stocked with ice and sparkling water for Iris’s visit. Grab two cans and step back into the cockpit with Hope, handing her the blackberry one.
“You remembered.”
I look down at the can, confused. Then it hits me, I didn’t even think to ask which flavor she’d prefer. “Well, yeah. I...” No use covering up, so I shrug. “Yeah.”
The barest smile dents her cheek, but the sight lifts my heart, like the first glimpse of shoreline after a long day at sea. A bone-deep feeling of relief. Joy, even.
“Why’d you come?” The words sound harsher than I meant. An accusation instead of a question, and I try again. “You knew about me, and you came anyway.”
“Besides a job, you mean?” The chuckle she forces out is self-effacing, and I want to reach out for her hand, wrap my fingers around hers in reassurance.
She pops the lid on her water, a cool breath of vapor rising from the can. “I’ve been staying out of shark science,” she says. “Avoiding it, to be honest. Ever since we...” She presses her thumb against the can, denting the tin, but doesn’t say anything else.
