Page 55 of Second Tide's the Charm
“If you say so.”
He sniffs. “You don’t like social media, or is it just a lack of interest?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into it, now or ever, and Gabe pockets his phone. “Sorry, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, but it’s such an interesting topic for me, and I’m pretty sure you’re the first person under forty who I’ve met without it.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I mean, people favor one platform over others, and most don’t have public pages, but yeah. You’re kind of an outlier.” He pillows his chin on his knuckles. “And that fascinates me.”
Adrian shoves him good-naturedly. “Lay off, man. She doesn’t have to appease your curiosity.”
But I get it. Not only is it his line of work, but it directly relates to me being here this summer. I’m surprised no one pushed further until now. “Probably better y’all know since it kind of relates to the channel.”
Adrian sits up straighter, frowning.
“Remember what I told you the other day, about the town meeting?” I ask him, then turn to Gabe, and give him a quick rundown, leaving out the touchy-feely parts and sticking to the facts.
When I finish, he turns to Adrian. “You knew all this?”
“She just told me the other day.” He sounds hurt at the omission, but we weren’t a couple when it all went down, not really. Would sharing what happened and my reason for staying have had an impact?
“Anyway,” I say, not needing to go down that road, “like I said, the news didn’t air my portion of the meeting. But our town posts all the meeting recordings on their site. Nothing fancy, just a camcorder set up in the back. My former chemistry teacher heard I’d spoken at the meeting and shared it on my high school’s alumni page.”
I muster a grin for Adrian, hoping to keep things light. “Not a lot of exciting news posted there, so you’d be an instant hit.”
He waves this off, urging me to go on.
“Pretty sure my teacher didn’t watch the video, and neither did anyone else who hit ‘like.’ No one mentioned my meltdown, just a few generic comments along the lines of ‘Cool’ or ‘Way to go Hope!’ The recording was close to two hours, and my speech only a small part of that.” I heave a breath, because this is the humiliating part, details or no.
“Remember Owen?” I ask Adrian.
“The salutatorian who contested your GPA?” Adrian asks. “Pretty hard to forget a guy who couldn’t handle losing to the point he got the school board involved.”
My valedictorian status remained intact, but Owen’s inquiries sparked rumors about whether I deserved the honor and the hefty scholarship that came along with it that are still circulating in Shoreline Dunes. Gossip is a prime hobby in wintertime when the town’s population dwindles along with the temps, but I’d forgotten the longevity and virulence of it until I moved back.
“Tell me you peaked in high school without telling me you peaked in high school,” Gabe says, and I snort.
“Yeah, well, I think he was the only one who actually watched the entire video.”
“Because what else does he have to do with his time?” Adrian’s leg is bouncing on the stool, the vibrations a manifestation of his growing agitation.
I want to press a calming hand to his knee but return to the story instead. “Not only did he watch it, he helpfully added a comment of his own, telling people exactly what minutes contained my ‘performance.’”
“Are you kidding me?” Gabe seems almost as upset as Adrian, and I’m guessing he has his own experience with comment sections getting out of hand. “He pointed out your portion of the meeting just so people would watch you scrambling?”
“Yeah, and then took it a step further and made the post public on our town’s page. A few people opposed to funding the project made snarky comments like, ‘Thanks Hope,’ or ‘Our hero.’”
The Shark Hero drink on the bar in front of us suddenly seems less funny. Even strangers look up to Adrian, while I let down people I care about.
“Mr. Platt, my teacher, reached out and apologized. Said he had no idea, but of course, it wasn’t his fault. And it’s silly, really. Just small-town drama. But I deactivated my accounts because I was tired of seeing the tags.” Embarrassed at how much it hurt to see. “After a few weeks, I realized I didn’t miss it, so I just stayed off.” Didn’t hurt that it cut off my chances to check in on Adrian and my old colleagues. It made me less reachable—out-of-sight-out-of-mind, and for awhile, that’s what I wanted.
“Screw that dude,” Gabe says. “Everyone who commented probably acted nice to your face, right?” I nod and he says, “It’s a phenomenon where people feel more uninhibited online.”
“Pretty sure she knows firsthand,” Adrian says. He’s been listening intently, letting me tell the story, but I take a moment to look at him now and see his shoulders are rigid, fists bunched. “And it must be even worse coming from people you know.”
He searches my face, and whatever he sees there has his jaw set, eyes steely. “What’s Owen’s last name again?” There’s something dangerous in his tone. I can fight my own battles—have, and will—but him wanting to defend my honor? That makes me feel cared for in a way I didn’t know I was missing.
Summoning my courage, I tell him, “If he’s petty and vicious enough to spout nonsense in the future, we’ll deal with it then. But I’m ready to reconnect with friends and the shark community. I missed out on things—” I dart my eyes away when my lips want to form the wordsImissed out on you“—by disengaging.”
