Page 18 of Second Tide's the Charm
Part of me is worried about what she’s left unsaid, but a bigger part is panicking now that there’s no way out. I’m going to be trapped on this boat, all summer, with her.
Silence stretches between us, a longline threaded with countless hooks. Diving into the waters between us seems foolhardy, but for this to work, we have to get comfortable with one another, and fast. She’s fidgeting, tapping her nail against the can, foot bouncing in a rhythm I feel under my soles.
I touch her wrist to pull her attention, a small brush of my fingertips, meaningless with anyone else, but Hope goes still, pupils flared, a visible manifestation of the thrum of my own telltale pulse.
“Why are you really here?” I ask. “Of all the places to start over. Why here?”
She frowns. “Isn’t it obvious? The sharks.”
I laugh at how quickly the reply came. “You haven’t changed.” Discovering she’s the same Hope I fell in love with is bittersweet.
“You have.” Her reply knocks me off-balance. “Here, at least.” She draws a finger along her cheek, and my thumb finds its way to my own jaw, mirroring her movement. “And here.” She crosses her arms to palm her own shoulders, and though she’s not touching me, my skin prickles with heat. “How do you find the time to lift weights?”
“Haven’t slept well the past few years.” I swallow, barely breathing at the sense of imagined contact. At how much I want her to touch me for real.
“Since we...” She breaks off, eyes meeting mine. “Since I left?”
My throat is dry with the effort of forcing down the urge to reach out and draw her close, but I manage a nod. “Yeah, since then.”
“And you got a boat?”
I shift, uneasy, thinking of the name on the bow. A wish that came true in the most unexpected way. “It helps to have guaranteed access to a boat. I tried to convince Marissa to be part owner but she said since I had to sacrifice my dignity, I may as well enjoy the spoils.”
“Your dignity?” Hope’s confused tone throws me before I realize just because she saw a glimpse of our socials doesn’t mean she knows how it all began.
“All this came about after a video of me went viral.”
She tilts her head. “A video you didn’t create? One you had no control over?”
Looks like time apart didn’t affect Hope’s ability to infer exactly how something so far outside my comfort zone would affect me. “Yeah. Some bystanders recorded footage of me and uploaded it on the internet. It trended for a while.” Even now, when I’m used to the scrutiny, the sheer number of humans who’ve witnessed a random moment of my life makes me queasy. “But it’s not the video that bothered me so much as people’s reactions.”
Hope nods, expression grim. “People. They’re the worst.”
I clear my throat to cover a laugh. “People,” I say in somber agreement, though Hope shoots me a side-eye that has my lips twitching.
“Can I see it?”
Why not? Seems like everyone else has. Last I checked, months ago, the views were over thirty million. The popularity of the video is half the reason we’re standing here on this boat. But if she sees it, she might view me in a different light, and I kind of like that to her, I’m still the Adrian from Before. “I won’t, if you don’t want me to.” She means it. I know in my bones that she would respect my wishes and not search for it later.
I take a seat on the bench and rub the back of my neck. “The video’s not the problem.” I sigh and backtrack. “None of it’s a problem. I love what I do—what we do. I love educating people about sharks.”
“But...” she says, settling onto the bench opposite me.
“But it’s weird that I got recognition in the field over my pecs, not my research.”
Her gaze drops to my chest and a flush heats my cheeks. “Gotta admit, I’m really curious about the video now,” she says with a wry grin, and I let out a surprised laugh. “But you know full well you get recognition for your research. None of our peers would collaborate with you if it weren’t for your outstanding qualifications.”
She’s right. Our colleagues don’t mess around when it comes to credentials. “Are you saying I should suck it up and get over it in the name of science?”
“Absolutely not. You have every right to not like that piece of it.” She crosses her arms, her T-shirt sliding off one shoulder, exposing a peek of collarbone that my Hope-starved eyes latch onto. “But from the sound of it, you’ve found a way to turn that initial wave of fame into something far beyond your looks. And I’m not surprised in the slightest.”
My heart soars at her frank praise. Even though there’s no future for us, if she’s going to stay, we need to rebuild our trust on a professional level. This would be a start. I grab my phone and search for the video, then pass it over.
Her brow furrows as she holds the phone close to her face, shaded by one hand, and reads the title aloud. “Sexy scientist saves beachgoers from monster shark?”
I blow out an irritated breath. “The standard sensationalized language that does sharks no favors.”
“As if the shark grew legs and is running amuck on a crowded beach.” She gives an indignant shake of her head, the curls in her loose bun bobbing with the movement.
