Page 53 of Love in the Lab
“Okay.” My voice is faint, even to my own ears. What am I getting us into here? I’ve never doneanythinglike this before. I swallow the pill with a gulp of water.
“It’s not too late to turn back,” Jonathan says, like he’s reading my mind. He brings a hand to my cheek and strokes his thumb across it. His eyes lock onto mine. “Are you sure this is what you want, Carrots?”
I think back to the sticky note waiting on my refrigerator for me last night: “You meet challenges with courage and strength.” I’m not sure that’s true, but I’d like it to be. I’ve been so afraid for so long—afraid to let my guard down, afraid to try something new, afraid to be myself. My fear and caution haven’t gotten me where I want to be. I need to step into the unknown.
I push down my doubts, lifting my hand and placing it over Jonathan’s on my face. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward, right?”
His eyebrows flash up. He smiles with his whole face, his eyes gleaming. “Attagirl,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
We return above deck to find that the wind has picked up. Metal clangs rhythmically against metal as the shackles of the dock lines hit on the railings. The boat leans to the side and a spray of water comes up over the railing. We’re in the control center of the boat where the steering wheel sits. It’s enclosed, with all the windows closed; a safe haven as the waves outside turn gray and foreboding.
“Stay here in the helm until we need to go out to launch the gliders,” Jonathan instructs.
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I wait as he ducks outside and to the front of the boat to pull the anchor up. He flips a switch, and I see the anchor chain start to move. Though it comes up automatically, he has to reach over and untwist it every so often.
Soon he’s back at the wheel, and we’re on our way under the bridge and through Lake Borgne. The weather holds until we reach the Gulf, where the waves are so strong, they make the boat lurch.
Jonathan sets his jaw. “Hold on,” he says, not taking his eyes off the front of the boat as we climb the swells in front of us and then plummet back down with a splash. Water crashes across the front of the boat.
I grab onto the railing next to me as we bounce up and over waves. As we travel farther from shore, the waves don’t crest as often or as high, so the ride smooths out some. For now. I still feel the wind rocking the boat back and forth, though.
Because of the conditions, the trip takes longer than normal. It’s another hour before we reach the location I calculated as the most ideal to launch the gliders. We’re still fifteen minutes outwhen the rain starts. The waves are back now, too, buffeting us from every direction.
Finally, we’re in place. Jonathan turns off the engine and motions for me to stay put while he lowers the anchor. Between the rain and the crashing waves, he’s soaked within seconds of stepping out of the control area.
I groan to myself, knowing I’m next.
When Jonathan returns, he closes us in the control area. “It’s pretty rough out there,” he tells me, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Stay with me. You turn on each glider, and then we’ll work together to unstrap them and get them into the water.”
I nod, but Jonathan shakes his head. “Answer me with words, Carrots. I need to know you understand.”
I clear my throat. “I understand. I’ve got it.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, pulling me to my feet. “Are you ready?”
I shoot him a weak smile. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s go.” He takes my hand, then opens the door. Though the control area isn’t remotely soundproof, I immediately discover how much sound those thin walls and windows were muffling.
The sound of the waves is deafening, layered below the splash of raindrops and the roll of thunder. Every so often, lightning cracks across the sky, electrified light cutting through the heavy clouds. Really, if it wasn’t so loud and terrifying, the sound alone might be soothing—a day at the beach and a thunderstorm rolled into one.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped moving until Jonathan tugs on my hand.Focus, Molly, I scold myself. We carefully slide our way to the gliders. Trying to walk while the boat pitches back and forth reminds me of the bounce houses I played in as a child. One minute, the ground is beneath my feet and the next it’s gone, and I’m floating until the deck finds the bottom of my feet again.
By the time we’ve made it the few feet to the first glider, I’m drenched. My board shorts stick against my thighs, my boat shoes squelch with every watery step I take, and my glasses are dotted with beads of rain. I shiver against the wind whipping through my now-wet clothes.
I let go of Jonathan’s hand, bending over the gliders so I can flip the switch on each one to power them on.
My hair is soaked, and the feel of it sticking to my neck irritates me. I toss my head back and forth and roll my shoulders to push it back without using my hands, which are busy on the gliders. I wish I’d thought of putting it up before we came out here.
I feel Jonathan at my side, his warm body temporarily blocking the stinging rain. “I’m going to tie your hair back!” he shouts.
“I don’t have a hair tie,” I call back.
I tilt my head enough to see him take a black hair tie from his pocket. Wordlessly, he pulls the hair away from my neck and gathers it in his fist. He brings his other hand up and gently combs his fingers through the hair on the top of my head, smoothing it down.
Forget about the buttons on the glider. Jonathan has my full attention. I’m frozen, slack-jawed as he twists the hair tie around my ponytail twice. When he’s done, I stand and face him, my back to the boat’s control center.
His eyes meet mine with a sheepish expression. He puts his mouth close to my ear, so I can hear him when he says, “I started carrying them after I noticed you never have one when you need it.”
