Page 44 of Second Tide's the Charm
Field research is a blend of focus, communication, teamwork, and physical exertion. Add in unpredictable weather, wild animals (or not, depending on whether we manage to catch any), and the need to document scientific data, and each day on the boat calls for concentration and teamwork.
Concentration, after a weekend of restless nights caught between reliving a kiss and telling myself to forget it. Teamwork, with the man who I ran away from because I was too scared to admit how much he means to me.
If I had to grade my progress toward my goals on the whole, it would be a solid F.
Get back into shark research? I tagged one shark and then proceeded to choke on the second go-round like a rookie. I did deliver a lecture on estuary habitats with relative competence. I guess that’s a Meets Expectations, planting me solidly in the average zone for my career goals. However, and this is a big however, kissing Adrian bulldozed any progress I’ve made toward getting over him.
Not to mention the beach make-out session totally undermined my first goal, undoing all the effort of getting comfortable with each other the other day on the boat. Now I’ll have to survive what should’ve been the first normal workday of the summer with the taste of him lingering on my lips.
Classic avoidance might work fine in an office setting, with desks and the chance to take solo lunch breaks and escape to the bathroom if the tension becomes unbearable. Not so effective on a small research boat where cooperation is key and communication is a must and close quarters prevent any semblance of privacy.
The other flaw in my plan is that Adrian told me he can’t pretend, can’t forget. I haven’t seen him since the day we kissed and have no way to gauge his feelings. He never even showed up at Marissa’s to pick up the towels we forgot about the other night. I have no clue what he’s been drying himself with; for all I know he air-dries after showers by walking around his house nude.
I look up to find him walking down the dock—not naked, but still the embodiment of my lustful musings. His hair is held back with a thick fabric headband and he’s wearing a form-fitting T-shirt and teal board shorts that hit mid-thigh. When he reaches me, I’m still frozen in place at the enormity of our slip-up.
He hesitates, as if unsure whether to pass by or acknowledge me. “Would’ve been here earlier, but I missed my alarm.” His voice is gruff from sleep, the rasp of it a reminder of the morning on the beach, and the handles of the cooler turn slick in my suddenly-slippery grip.
He moves to step past me, but I make the same choice, accidentally blocking his way. “Ope, sorry.” My Midwestern upbringing has me apologizing for nothing, and my embarrassment grows.
“All good.”
We both sidestep again, making the same choice, and wind up in another stalemate.
“You go ahead,” he says, and before we wind up trapped in another standoff, I hustle toward the boat.
Marissa’s waiting, head cocked, eyebrows up, and it’s clear she witnessed the entire interaction. “That was fun,” she says. “Are you two planning to make this a habit?”
“Working?”
“Being awkward as sin.”
“You’re the awkward one.” I pass her the cooler. “We’re just trying to load up.”
“Trying is right. Failing is righter.” She points back and forth between us. “I thought we solved this. Y’all were so relaxed in the video. What happened?”
He meets my eyes above her head.
“Saw that!” Setting down the cooler, she gives us her full attention. “You two need a minute to talk things out?”
“No,” we both say at the same time. Not suspicious at all.
Marissa’s eyes are impossible to see behind her wraparound sunglasses, but I can feel the calculation in her stare nonetheless.
“Uh-oh.” Gabe walks up, a coil of line over his shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
I shoot Marissa a pleading look, willing her not to make this a thing. “Nothing, apparently.” She climbs aboard and carries her gear toward the stern.
Gabe doesn’t look convinced, but unlike Marissa, he lets it lie. Somehow, I don’t feel like we’re off the hook, though. “Awesome job with the video by the way.” He leans across the gap between the dock and boat to retrieve his camera from the open compartment near him. “Can’t wait to see more of that energy today.”
Adrian lets out a strangled cough, and I can’t help but picture the energetic activities we got up to on the beach. Why did we dig ourselves that hole?
Gabe shoulders the camera. “Saw the scientists from Charleston unloading gear in the parking lot and I want to get some shots of them walking the gangplank like the rock-star scientists they are.”
“Not a gangplank,” Adrian calls, though Gabe knows full well what a gangplank is. Marissa told me he grew up in Fort Lauderdale and learned to scuba dive as a teenager. He’s probably got more experience on boats than I do, not having set foot on anything larger than a canoe until college. When people find out I grew up in a lake town, they’re often surprised to discover I didn’t go boating. But that was for tourists; I spent my days on the beach orinthe waves, not on them. Sounds like Gabe had a different experience. I’d love to hear his story about being raised near the ocean.
“Argh, didn’t catch that, cap’n.” He hops nimbly onto the dock with a cheeky grin.
Adrian’s brows dip in a glower so ferocious that I have to duck my head to keep him from spotting my smitten grin. Why do I find everything about him so irresistible? His rough edges ought to smooth away my yearning, not act like friction to kindling. All I know is I have to avoid him if I have a chance of making it through today.
