Page 58 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Give us something more than Adrian over there,” he jokes. “What’s your favorite shark, and why?”
Hope licks her lips but seems steadier than a moment ago. “Great white sharks. They’re the species that first fascinated me, and I’ve been lucky to study them here in the Atlantic. A dream of mine is to study white sharks in the Pacific as well and learn more about their migratory patterns.”
“Best part of the job?”
Hope raises her hand. “Ooh, me, pick me! Can I answer twice in a row?” The others laugh, and the worry in my chest eases at seeing her relax. “The sharks. That might sound obvious, but they are just such cool animals.” She pauses and looks at Gabe. “Are we allowed to say something as trite as ‘cool’ on air?”
He laughs, and I lean into her, a small show of support, and she squeezes my thigh in response. Not a grope, or a tease. The kind of small gesture of acknowledgment couples do.
Except we’re not a couple, and it’s been three years since anyone’s squeezed my thigh, and weeks since we last touched, and my body’s response is anything but innocent.
My nerve endings light up, and Hope jerks her hand away with a muttered, “Sorry.”
If the look on her face is any indication, she’s as affected as I am. But Marissa is talking about studying nurse sharks on a recent trip to Florida and I try to pull my mind back to the task at hand.
“Next question, and Adrian gets to go first this time,” Gabe says. “‘My son loves sharks and is headed into high school. What should he do if he’d like to have a career in marine biology?’”
Me and Marissa give our answers, covering all basics, and when it’s Hope’s turn, I can see her scrambling for something to add.
She palms the back of her neck. “Uh, well one option might be join us on the boat next summer.” She stops, staring wide-eyed at the camera like she’s realized her mistake. The pleasant smile I’ve kept plastered on my face slides off as she rushes to explain. “Uh, we’re... Well, there’s a possibility the team will be launching a program aimed at giving high schoolers the chance to experience field research.”
Did she just really announce that out loud, on a live session? I’ve got to fix this. “Um, actually—” I clear my throat, unsure how to play it off without making things worse.
Fortunately, Gabe jumps in, “That’s our allotted hour for questions, but this has been fun. Follow along across social media for a chance to get your question answered next time!” He lowers the phone and the second he ends the livestream, I turn to Hope.
“What was that?”
“What we discussed.” She grasps the hem of her shirt, twisting it between her fingers. “About maybe starting a program for youth.”
“Have you run it by Marissa?” My cousin shakes her head. That’s what I thought. I whirl toward Hope. “I haven’t even heard you mention it since the other night at the bar.”
“We’ve been really busy, and it slipped my mind.” Hope lets go of her shirt and crosses her arms, swiveling to face me on the bench. Her bare knees brush mine, but I barely notice. “I get that my timing was bad. But you make it sound like some drunken idea. We were at a work dinner. I offered another way you could accomplish your goals.”
“And then announced it to a live audience.”
“Live, exactly.” Wind whips her hair across her face, but she doesn’t bother to push the strands away. “What you said we’d never do.”
I feel bad about putting her in an awkward position, but a larger part of me is concerned about scrambling to course-correct thanks to her mistake. “Plans change, right? Isn’t that what you told me?” The second the words leave my mouth, I clamp it shut, but it’s too late.
All the light leaves Hope’s eyes, like someone blew out the flame inside her. Unfair of me to equate our personal issues with her performance at work. We asked her to perform outside the job expectations, with almost no warning. “Hope—”
“We’d better get back to shore before the storm moves in.” She stands and moves off toward the wheel, navigating the rolling deck with practiced ease. “I’ll drive.”
Back to us, she makes her way to the helm. Against the backdrop of white-capped waves and steely clouds, she looks determined, but exposed. She opened up about the lowest moment of her career, trusted me to do my best to ensure she wouldn’t be in that position again, and I failed her.
These past three weeks were the calm before the storm. With one careless moment, I let our history bleed into work and tore down all the progress we’d made, only this time, it wasn’t for a stolen kiss, it was out of selfishness. I proved she was right to doubt us, and we’re better off apart.
twenty-three
hope
We don’t film live. You won’t have to talk to the camera. No unexpected questions.
Not promises, maybe, but clear expectations, certainly. When Adrian and I shot the intro video together, he assured me I’d just be doing shark work-ups on camera, that anything could be fixed in edits. Lies. Today was the city council meeting all over again, but with an audience of thousands, not a hundred. And while I got the facts right, I let down my colleagues just the same.
I stayed at the wheel the entire way back to the marina, ensuring no one would try to talk to me, and the drive home with Marissa was quiet, both of us gathering our thoughts. We dashed into the condo just ahead of the first lightning crack.
At the kitchen island, Marissa knocks back a glass of water like a shot, then refills it with the filtered pitcher, pouring more into my cup as well. We both chug, thirsty in the way only a day on the water can leave you.
