Page 68 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Why? I’m not your girlfriend.”
“People knowing about you being onShark Science Crew?” Realizing I was hung up on people fawning over him, embarrassment washes over me. Thankfully, he glosses over it. “I know things didn’t go so well last time your hometown got wind of a video of you.”
I rock back, settling into the sand. The others must’ve decided to go with research before interview and are caught up in launching the drone. “It shouldn’t, logically.” Part of me doesn’t want to be vulnerable, but if we’re doing the friend thing, clamming up will be counterproductive. “But yeah, a little. Tell me I shouldn’t worry.” The request surprises me. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted his comfort.
His lips press into a tight line, his beard making him look somewhat ferocious, and he shakes his head. “I’m not going to tell you how you should feel, but I will tell you I’ve been hypervigilant about checking for trolls, Marissa and Gabe too. We didn’t want to worry you with it, but we’re on the lookout, and so far, other than a few random nasty comments, nothing.”
They’ve all been looking out for me? The pit of worry in my stomach fades, replaced by gratitude for such great people in my life.
“We’re getting ready to launch,” Marissa calls.
I heft myself up off the sand, and Adrian stands too. “Thank you,” I say as we make our way over. He sends a half grin my way, but I can tell he’s still thinking about Zuri’s news.
The drone is a distraction though, and not long after the drone is airborne, Jason spots a bait ball, with sharks feeding in the midst of the swirling mass of fish.
“Check it out.” He holds the tablet screen a bit away from himself, and we cluster around to see the silvery mass of fish ebb and flow in the shallows like iridescent waves. They dart and move as one, trying to evade the three small sharks visible in their midst.
“Spinner sharks, you think?” Marissa asks.
“Maybe,” Jason says. “Could be blacktips.” He’ll analyze the recording later. The sharks dart in and out of the large school of fish, agile and quick.
It’s been years since I’ve seen this in person, and my eyes are glued to the monitor, worries over negative exposure and an ex-boyfriend-turned-friend forgotten in the joy of witnessing this incredible behavior.
twenty-six
hope
A tropical storm is gathering strength offshore. Historically, it’s early in the season for a hurricane, but Marissa left town a day early for her family reunion out of state to avoid any potential trouble. She invited me to come along, but the allure of getting out of town was outweighed by the prospect of spending an entire weekend making small talk with strangers—my own family reunions are stressful enough.
Solitude is the silver lining to staying back, and at first having the condo to myself was wonderful. I worked on my résumé, delved into a few recent shark studies, and ate a blissfully conversation-free lunch accompanied only by the hum of the ceiling fan. Then boredom kicked in. Turns out half a day alone in an apartment was enough, but I wasn’t about to appease my desire for a change in scenery with a potential hurricane about to make landfall.
Instead, I gather all the couch pillows and settle in, laptop propped on my knees, continuing in my quest to watch all the crew’s past videos. I’m working my way through the uploads haphazardly, an episode here, an interview there. It’s cool to watch how their rapport has grown more polished and free-flowing, less talking over one another and stammering like a log-jammed creek after a rainstorm. Their early videos make me feel better for my own flubs.
Heavy cloud cover moves in, and the gloom and patter of rain against the windows lulls me into a doze. I’m awoken by a knock that rattles the doorframe. Scrambling out of my nest of pillows, I hurry over and peer through the peephole. Adrian is outside, outlined against a curtain of sheeting rain.
Ozone assaults my nostrils when I swing the door open. “What are you doing here?” Knowing Marissa would be out of town, I purposefully didn’t ask about his weekend plans. Despite being on friendly terms, we haven’t hung out alone outside work, and a weekend without Marissa around as a buffer seems a risky time to put our new relationship boundaries to the test.
“Weather’s getting a little dicey, so I thought I’d check on you.” Arms laden with totes, he steps around me, shimmying between me and the door, his body sliding along mine for one excruciatingly delicious moment. “I thought you might need some groceries. Don’t need to be venturing out in this.”
I press the door closed with my back and lean against it for support against the heady rush of emotions whirling through me at the sight of him. “I didn’t plan to. Marissa and I shopped before she left.”
Setting down the bags on the counter, he puts a sack of oranges in the empty fruit bowl.
“You didn’t have to brave the storm to feed me.”
“Just a little rain so far.” He shrugs off his rain-specked jacket to reveal a form-fitting T-shirt. “I’ve been checking the radar all day.” Fingertips grasping the hood of his coat, he reaches around me to hang it on one of the hooks by the door. His nose is speckled with raindrops, and I catch the deep, earthy scent of his beard oil.
Skin tingling with awareness, I ask, “Then why come over? I’m fine.”
“Are you?” He stoops to unlace his shoes. “You’ve got goose bumps.” His words skitter across my bare forearms, and when he looks up at me, worry pools in his dark eyes.
“You let in a draft,” I say, rationalizing. Even at its chilliest, South Carolina in midsummer is no match for my Michigan roots. “Physical response to external stimuli.” At least that part’s true. Him kneeling, mouth level with my navel, is definitely stimulating.
His gaze runs up my arms, past my throat, until our eyes connect, and the perusal lingers on my skin like the echo of his touch. I narrowly avoid closing my eyes at the burst of longing in my chest.
He rises and places a hand against the door, framing me in. Tipping forward, he toes off one of his shoes. “You’re not used to this kind of storm.” His mouth is near my cheek, so close his lips almost brush my skin, and I should move away, but I stay put, breathing shallowly.
With a long swallow, he looks down, holding my gaze. “I wanted to make sure you’re taking the proper precautions.” His voice slips low, and I get the feeling we’re not talking about the weather anymore.
