Page 29 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Most of our videos won’t even involve talking to the camera. Today will be the worst of it. I know it’s a cliché, but people respond to real. Let your inner nerd out. Share your passion. That’s what will appeal to our followers.”
“Pretty sure my inner nerd has been my whole personality since I was six.”
Adrian grins at that, and I remember how much he loved my nerdy side. Never told me to tone it down or cool off with the trivia.
“But it’s not my personality I’m worried about,” I explain. “It’s that I’ll say or do something to make y’all look bad, and the result will be shared a thousand times over.”
He frowns in apparent confusion, as if me failing isn’t a very real possibility, and the lines in his brow are adorably distracting. “But you’ve crushed every presentation and speech I’ve seen you give. You taught seminars in grad school. None of this is new for you.”
“But this is different.”
“Because of the camera?”
“Because of everything.” I peel my collar to the side, trying to get some air on my neck, and his eyes track the movement, sharp and intense. Momentarily distracted, I run my fingertip through the slick of sweat. His lips part and desire flares, low in my belly, forceful enough to keep me still, letting him look, feeling seen.
The loud hum of an engine breaks the stillness and beyond Adrian’s shoulder, I spot the plume of a Jet Ski. When my eyes return to his face, his features are blank, like nothing happened. Because nothing did. Nothing will. Nothing but a day’s work.
Returning to the subject at hand, he says, “Does it have something to do with why you deleted your social media accounts?”
A nod would suffice. I could leave it at that, and he’d let me, like he let me dodge the question last time. But I didn’t accept this job to evade things. I came to face my past so I can run headlong into the future.
I blow out my breath and shift forward, elbows on my knees, rooted in place under his scrutiny. “You’ve been to my hometown, so you know how it is. Everyone knows everyone, supports each other.”
“Yeah, it was cool to see,” he says. “I always imagined living somewhere like that.”
I know all about the many times his family moved, about the lack of community, and I wonder for the first time if he’s found that in social media, if it’s more reciprocal than I first thought.
“Well, the research project I was part of had been ongoing for several years. They’d come up with an action plan to combat invasive species, but the town needed to vote on whether to fund the project.”
He leans back, settling in to give me his full attention. “Sounds promising.”
“It was. The lead scientist had worked for weeks on a presentation for the town hearing. A lot of locals supported the idea, but there were others who thought the money could be better allocated toward other needs.” Small-town politics that never change.
“But right as the meeting started, my supervisor got a phone call. His son had gotten a concussion during a soccer game and was on the way to the hospital. He asked who wanted to speak, and no one stepped up, so I did.” Worst decision ever.
Adrian smiles, likely remembering the all-nighters I pulled for group projects, not wanting to let my group members down.
“I’d only been on the study for a few months, but I thought I could speak to the opposition of some people I knew personally. The presentation went okay, but afterward, they opened up for questions, and I was...not prepared.” The words are inadequate for how poorly I delivered, fumbling my way through questions brought up by those opposed.
He winces, and it’s clear he understands how that must’ve felt.
“While I was busy trying to address all the questions thrown at me, a news crew came in to cover the meeting. Apparently, it was part of a ‘spotlight on conservation’ series they were doing.”
“No warning?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. But I wasn’t supposed to present, so I wouldn’t have been notified anyway. Between the camera and my lack of preparation, I tanked the Q&A. Didn’t support our claims with evidence, stumbled over the numbers. The measure ended up getting voted down, and I lost a chance to protect the water that I love.” I heave a deep breath. “Not only that, but my rambling failure will live forever on the internet.”
“They aired it?” he asks, incredulous, and I shake my head.
“Not on TV, but it’s on the city council website.”
He looks relieved. “No one watches those.”
“Not many,” I admit. “But I let down the town and did a disservice to my colleagues. My supervisor was understanding, but I know he was disappointed. It would’ve been a huge win for them. I’d been planning to leave at the start of the new year. Come back to shark research. But after that, I felt like I needed to stay the course. At least I could make a contribution with my research, since I failed when it came to using my voice.”
“Hope.” Adrian reaches for my hand, stopping short, and clasps his fingers together instead. “You don’t hold the blame for the vote. I’m sure the council members had access to the study.”
“But we both know the power of communicating the data clearly. I did the opposite. Spread doubt and made the whole department look incompetent.”
