Chapter 11 #2
Okay, I’m officially impressed. It’s one thing to have an old key card, but it’s another to be on a first-name basis with the head of operations. That’s not just connections, that’s a level of respect that usually takes years to build.
Marco grins as we shake hands. “So you’re the one getting a midnight field trip.”
“Something like that,” I say with a small smile.
Marco swipes a key card, and the inner gate unlocks with a soft click.
“How’s Trident’s Run holding up?” Theo asks.
Marco lets out a low whistle. “Still blowing people’s minds. You done good, kid.”
Trident’s Run is one of those coasters that’s part of coaster-design folklore. It plunges its riders through a massive 2.5-million-gallon aquarium filled with sharks and rays. A structural nightmare turned into a masterpiece.
As the realization clicks, my heart begins to beat faster. I stop in my tracks and look at Theo. “Hold on a second. We were literally just talking about this over dinner. Theo, did you design Trident’s Run?”
“It was a team effort.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “All I did was come up with the launch system and the section of track that runs through the tank.”
I stare at him, then blink. “Theo, that’s not a team effort. You literally designed the heart of the entire attraction. That’s a flex.”
He stops walking and looks back at me, the low-glow path lights catching the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Is that what we’re calling it now? A flex?”
“In my world? Yes.” I step up beside him, our shadows stretching long across the empty plaza. I almost feel like I should have asked for an autograph before I disinvited him to trivia.
He lets out a genuine laugh that echoes off the glass walls of the nearby exhibits. It’s a deep, rich sound. It makes my stomach do a slow, fluttering roll.
As we round the corner and Trident’s Run comes into view, I gasp. This ride isn’t just impressive. It’s audacious.
The gleaming steel track coils in and out of the massive aquarium walls like a silver serpent.
Each curve and drop is meticulously sculpted.
Floodlights spill over the glass tunnel where the cars dive beneath the tank, and in the glowing blue depths above, shadowy silhouettes of sharks drift silently past.
“If you want to brag about your portfolio, I’ll gladly listen. This is the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
“Seeing is one thing. But you need to experience it,” he scoffs.
Marco stops beside a small control booth at the edge of the platform. “We’re running a few maintenance checks overnight,” he explains, tapping the screen. “You called at the right time. We have a train staged and ready for you.”
Theo glances at me, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Well . . . care to take a ride?”
“Obviously,” I say, attempting to imitate his posh British accent.
Marco chuckles and keys in a few commands. “That’s pretty good.”
“Thanks.” I grin.
Theo shakes his head.
With a mechanical hiss, the gates glide open.
I follow Theo up the empty loading platform and slide into the front row.
The restraints settle over my shoulders and lock into place with a solid thunk.
Anticipation blooms sharp and electric in my chest. “I think you’ve just secured yourself the boss of the year award,” I half shout.
“Remember tonight if I’m ever up against Sharma.”
The train glides forward, inching into position on the launch track. Marco’s voice booms over the loudspeaker. “Stand clear of the track. Trident’s Run test train number one is in position.”
The lights dim, replaced by a wash of cool-blue from the tank above. Silvery shapes drift overhead, smooth and silent, and for a split second I forget I’m not underwater.
“Ready?” Theo asks, his voice low beside me.
“Born ready,” I whisper.
The countdown hits—three, two, one—and then the world snaps into motion. The launch slams me back into my seat as the coaster rockets forward and wind tears past my face. We shoot toward the first drop, the track banking hard, and laughter bursts out of me before I can stop it.
The acceleration is smooth and relentless. I close my eyes for a heartbeat, letting myself feel the press of g-forces, the weightlessness before the drop. This is what I love about coasters. The adrenaline, and the fact that this is living, breathing science.
The tunnel swallows us whole, a kaleidoscope of light and water dancing above our heads. Sharks and rays drift just feet away, their shadows slicing through the shimmering blue. The train twists, climbs, and plunges again.
I steal a glance sideways and almost miss the next breath. Theo is grinning. For a fleeting second, I see the boy who must have fallen in love with rides long before he ever learned how to build them. The sight sends an unexpected ache through my chest.
When the brakes engage and we roll back into the station, I’m breathless, adrenaline buzzing under my skin. “That,” I say, clapping once, unable to help myself, “was epic.”
As Theo unfastens his harness, he asks, “How would you rank it out of ten? Did you notice any weaknesses? Areas for improvement?”
I laugh, still a little breathless, and push myself up from the seat. “You’re asking me this while my legs are still vibrating?”
“Best time to ask,” he replies mildly. “Your nervous system hasn’t had time to lie to you yet.”
I hop down onto the platform and take a second to orient myself. “Nine-point-five,” I say. “The launch is clean, the pacing’s excellent, and the underwater section feels seamless. There aren’t any dead spots.”
He nods once, as if ticking boxes in his head. “And the missing half point?”
I glance back at the track, thinking. “It could use maybe a touch more airtime after the second rise. Not much. Just enough to make people forget which way is up before the tunnel.”
He laughs. “You sound like me. We actually debated that. In the end, though, we had to cut it for long-term wear on the tank supports.”
“That makes sense.” I nod. “I do have another question. I noticed a dampening system on the dive? I’m curious . . . Why was it needed? The transition seemed smooth enough to me.”
“It’s smooth for the riders,” he explains, glancing up at the steel frame.
“But when the train hits that curve at fifty miles per hour, the load creates a low-frequency vibration that can resonate through the aquarium glass. The dampening system absorbs that energy so the sharks don’t feel like they’re living inside a drum. ”
If I weren’t in love with his brain already, I would be now. Theo’s just taken brainy-sexy to a whole new level.
We make our way down the deserted exit ramp.
The air is cooler now, tinged with the faint, briny scent of salt and the distant echo of lapping water.
At the base, we thank Marco, and then Theo surprises me by veering off from the main path, steering us toward a narrow service walkway bathed in soft-blue light. “Come on,” he says, nodding ahead.
“Where are we going?” I ask, falling into step beside him.
He doesn’t answer. He flashes me a faint, knowing smile. “We have one more stop to make before we head out.”
The path winds deeper into the heart of Neptune Bay. The theme park’s background music fades, replaced by the rhythmic whoosh of filtration pumps and the haunting, melodic calls of marine mammals. Somewhere beyond the wall, I catch the deep splash of something big moving through the water.
“Are we . . . going backstage?” I whisper. “Is that even allowed?”
“It’s not something park management usually lets visitors see. But in this case, Marco made a special exception for us.”
Theo swipes a key card, and a heavy metal door clicks open. Cool, misty air rushes out to greet us. Inside, the lighting is dimmer, softer, and the path slopes downward into a cavernous space lined with enormous acrylic windows.
We step toward the glass as two beluga whales glide into view from the shadows of their habitat.
They’re pale and ghostly under the moon.
They move with a slow, deliberate grace that makes them look more like clouds drifting through a blue sky than creatures in water.
One of them turns slightly, its dark, intelligent eye catching mine through the acrylic as it lets out a series of high-pitched clicks.
“Oh,” I breathe, the word slipping out before I can stop it. “They’re so beautiful.”
“They’re devilishly smart and rather curious,” Theo says, his voice low, almost reverent. “One of my favorite animals. If you come here often enough, you realize they don’t just watch—they recognize you.”
When I glance back at him, I realize he isn’t watching the whales at all. He’s leaning back against the railing, his arms crossed, watching me with an expression that’s unusually unreadable. “This is where I spend most of my time when I visit. It always feels like seeing old friends.”
I find myself leaning into the glass, mesmerized by the way they communicate with nothing but a tilt of the head or a sudden, playful burst of speed.
One of them nudges an oversized translucent ball toward the glass, waiting for the current to catch it before chasing it down with a graceful snap of its flukes.
They aren’t just swimming—they’re playing, blissfully unaware of the world above the surface.
“Marco’s wife runs the habitat,” Theo says a few minutes later. “They’re due for their last feed in a few minutes. Come on.”
“You mean we can get closer?” I ask, barely containing myself.
“Yes.” His nod is calm, but there’s a hint of amusement behind his eyes.
“I like that our being friends comes with benefits,” I say, and immediately regret the phrasing. “I mean professional benefits. Educational. Not—”
“I know what you mean, Kaori.”
Heat creeps up my neck. Theo blessedly doesn’t say anything else. I mutter something under my breath in Japanese and resolve to stop speaking altogether for the next five minutes.
Before I can embarrass myself further, a side door opens and a woman in a wet suit steps through, a bucket of fish balanced on her hip. “Theo,” she says warmly.
He inclines his head. “Elena, Kaori. Kaori, Elena.”
Elena smiles. “Perfect timing. Want to help with the feed?”
“Yes,” I say a little too loudly, judging by the curious whistle one of the belugas lets out.
Theo steps back as Elena gestures for me to follow her. “I’ll stay out here.”
“You’re not coming?” I ask.
He frowns and glances down at his phone. “I’ve got a call I need to return. Take your time.” He steps back into the public area.
The excitement that was bubbling inside my chest deflates, leaving a hollow, sinking feeling in its place. I’ve been so caught up in the magic of the night that I’d forgotten for a second that this is still a field trip with my boss.
I linger for a second, my gaze trailing after the empty doorway Theo just disappeared through. With a small, frustrated sigh, I turn and follow Elena toward the back of the habitat. “I wish he’d left that darn phone in the car,” I mutter, more to myself than her.
“That makes two of us,” Elena says sympathetically as she leads me into the prep area.
The air back here is ice-cold, a sharp, biting chill that carries the heavy, unmistakable scent of salt water and fish. Elena has me disinfect my hands and shoes, then invites me over to the shallow side of the pool. From a large, galvanized barrel, she replenishes the herring in her bucket.
“Theo doesn’t usually bring anyone with him when he comes to visit,” she says lightly, her eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. “In the four years I’ve been working with the belugas, I’ve only ever seen him stand at that railing alone. You must’ve made quite an impression.”
He’s been coming here that long? I thought he’d only moved to Orlando about a year ago. Then again, I forgot that’s how old the office is.
“We’re just friends,” I say quickly.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
The belugas drift toward us. One of the whales glides close enough that I can see the ripple of muscle under its white skin, the dark marble of its eye fixed on me.
When I hold out a fish, it takes it with a gentle nudge.
Its skin feels like wet velvet against my fingertips.
As it pulls away, it exhales through its blowhole, a burst of cool, salty mist that dampens my arm.
Out of instinct, I glance sideways. Through the thick, distorted glass of the tank, I can make out the dark silhouette of Theo. His phone is in one hand, but he isn’t really looking at it. His gaze keeps drifting back to me, sharp even through the glass, watching us.
The realization settles in my chest that I’m the first person he’s brought here.
It’s one thing to show a coaster to a fellow coaster nerd, but to share the one place you visit to find sanctuary and decompress?
It makes me feel . . . special. The lines between a professional and personal relationship have never felt so blurred.