Chapter Twenty-Five
twenty-five
hope
The hour-long trip up the Intercoastal Waterway to North Carolina has flown by in a happy haze, joking and reminiscing with Adrian. Ever since I took Zuri’s advice and asked him if he’d be open to exploring a friendship, the dynamic between us has totally flipped. It feels so good to not have to weigh every word that comes out of my mouth or pretend I don’t enjoy his company.
On the career front, I sent in the application for the white shark research internship, after texting back and forth with Sylvia for more details. She seems to think I have a good shot, but the program is intensely competitive. Updating my résumé and completing an application felt good, though, like another step in the right direction.
By summer’s end, I’m counting on the attraction between Adrian and I burning out for lack of fuel, the longing for something deeper replaced by gratitude for a friendship that, if not quite what I want from him, doesn’t require me to give more than I know how to offer. Until then, though, I’m enjoying the undercurrent of attraction, letting my eyes linger and feeling a rush of pleasure when he does the same.
Someday, he’ll find someone to settle down with, and I’ll have to give this up, so maybe it’s a good time to start the process now. The thought enters my mind just as the motor changes in pitch.
Marissa has steered the boat into a deserted inlet, lined by a bluff covered in beach grass, and Adrian is leaning over the bow, butt in the air, checking the anchor line. Watching him, I decide to leave the task of learning how not to appreciate what I see for another day.
Gabe plops down next to my seat and I jolt upright guiltily, grateful for the heat of the day to explain my flushed skin.
Rubbing his hands together, he glances over the gunwale toward the man on shore who’s unpacking equipment from a case. “Think Jason will let me fly the drone?” Jason Ito is a biologist whose study involves using drones to study shark behavior. We’re here as part of Marissa and Adrian’s efforts to demonstrate a wide range of research techniques.
“Not a chance.” Adrian is still bent double, his voice muffled. Straightening up, he wipes his hands on his swim trunks. “I’m pretty sure he only agreed to film with us because he’s waiting on grant funding and needs access to a boat.”
Leaning over to unzip his laptop case, Gabe says, “Maybe. Would that be so bad?”
“Nah, I know how frustrating that can be. It’s part of why I’m glad we’re able to do this. But I hope he didn’t feel obligated. I would never want someone to do an interview if they’re not comfortable.”
“Which you made clear in the initial contact. You basically sounded like you were trying to convince him not to collaborate with us.”
“Why?” This is the first I’m hearing of Adrian’s hesitancy. Then again, we’ve only been on good terms for a short while. “I assumed most people would be eager to work with you.”
“They are,” Gabe says. “Many of them seek us out. But by the time Adrian finishes the disclaimers, he makes a cool opportunity sound like selling their soul. He lets the haters get to him too much.”
“I keep a balanced perspective, that’s all. There are a lot of upsides, but putting your work out there in the public eye is a risk for negative exposure as well.” He looks at me when he says this, and a trickle of unease slides down my spine.
Gabe makes an annoyed face. “Your ‘balanced mindset’ is why Marissa does most of the initial outreach. Like with Bauer.” The name sounds familiar, and I place it after a moment—Marissa met with him around the time I first arrived. They wanted to dive with his team to show how acoustic receivers are set up and monitored.
“Who said no, just like I told her he would.” The engine noise cuts, and Adrian’s response is loud in the sudden calm.
“Originally, yeah.” Gabe pivots toward where Marissa’s stepping out from under the canopy. “Didn’t you say Bauer just gave us the green light?”
“Yeah, we’re set to film the team’s next dive.” She sits down to take off her water sandals and tucks them inside a backpack. “According to him, the board is making a push to become more visible on social media. He asked if our offer still stood, because he figured this would be easier than learning a TikTok dance.”
Adrian smirks. “We should lead with that. Get featured on Shark Science Crew , no formal dance training required.”
“I don’t think you’re in need of a better pitch,” I assure him. “Sylvia and Liam were thrilled to be a part of this. Liam took like thirty selfies for his nephew. And numbers don’t lie; you have one point four million followers.” Inwardly, I cringe. I wish I could forget the number, but every time he posts a video my mind keeps coming back to how many people might see me mess up, to the damage I could do to the field I love by screwing up.
“Followers aren’t a good benchmark of credibility,” he protests. “That’s just a popularity contest. I want to ensure our peers in the scientific community trust me to put out reputable content.” Content that includes me. But no pressure or anything.
“I looked at who you’re mutuals with.” I glance at Gabe. “Is mutuals the correct term?”
“Eh,” he makes a noncommittal noise. “We know what you mean. And they’re legit, right? Shark Science Crew is incredibly well-respected.” He clasps Adrian’s shoulder. “There’s a reason I wanted to work with you.”
“Be that as it may,” he says. “Jason didn’t seek us out, we contacted him. Don’t make him regret it by asking to fly the drone the second we arrive.”
Gabe flashes a smile. “Me? Never.”
“Ten to one he’s asking to fly the drone,” Adrian says in an undertone, and I chuckle. Gabe was the first one to get off the boat, backpack extended overhead to keep it dry, and splash his way through the shallows to shore. He’s chatting animatedly with Jason, and the scientist keeps dodging glances at the boat, a curious grin on his face.
Adrian hops over the edge of the boat, landing in the waist-deep water, and I pass him his bag. “Did you really think he wouldn’t?”
“No. He wouldn’t be where he is if he were shy.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” He clutches the bag to his chest. His muscled forearms are distracting, and the way he grips the bag effortlessly has me back to our last kiss, when he lifted me up and hauled me against him like he was ready to devour me.
Not thoughts a friend should entertain, and I pull my focus back to the conversation. “You’re not shy, but you’re not an attention-seeker. How is this so intuitive for you?”
“Because the spotlight isn’t on me,” he says. “It’s on the research, and the scientists we work with. People might come to my page to get a glimpse of me, but the channel is focused on education.” He hoists the bag onto one shoulder and splashes a few steps farther away as a wave sends the boat rocking. “When I look at it that way, sharing a little bit of myself online isn’t such a hardship.”
Marissa comes over and lowers herself to sit on the edge of the open door, her feet dangling off the side of the boat. Just as she hoists herself up to slide into the water, a low hum whizzes past my ear and I duck instinctively. Marissa flails her arms and tumbles forward, landing in a belly flop that Adrian stumbles backward to avoid, narrowly keeping his balance. She splutters to the surface, water streaming down her face, clothes drenched.
“Sorry!” Gabe shouts from the beach, holding up the drone controller. He shrugs, an incorrigible smile visible even at this distance. “Blooper reel?”
“I’ll show you a blooper reel,” Marissa grumbles under her breath, and I look down to hide my smile. I don’t know yet what’s ahead, but I’m going to miss this.
We’re filming for the first part of the day on the beach so Jason can talk about how drones can be used to track sharks in shallow water. This has far-reaching applications for everything from population monitoring to reducing human/shark interactions. The day is hot, but I’m buzzing with energy. If I get the internship in California, I’ll be doing this type of research.
The others are conferring over the interview portion, and I hang back a little to give them space—Jason seems a little nervous about the interview questions, and I know the feeling. He tugs a folded piece of paper out of his shorts pocket. “I wrote down answers to the list of potential questions you sent over.”
“Awesome,” Adrian says. “Basically, we’ll just do a who, what, when, where, why, and how of your current research.”
Gabe steps forward, camera in hand. “How being the fun part.”
“Guessing that means the UAV?” Jason smiles, relaxing a little at the mention of the tech. “Gadgets always seem to catch people’s attention.”
“Between the drone and the sharks, can’t go wrong,” Marissa says. While they confer about whether to do the interview first or launch the drone, I take the chance to grab a snack from my bag, checking my phone in the process.
There’s a new message from Zuri, and it’s about twice as long as her normal texts. A knot of dread forms in the pit of my stomach and I scan it quickly, worried something happened to the kids. But it’s not about the kids, it’s about me.
Zuri: FYI I just found out a lot of people in town know about your videos. I was talking with another mom at Leo’s soccer practice who said she follows a bunch of nature accounts and the algorithm recommended one of Adrian’s videos (she knew his name, so that whole explanation was highly sus...I think she follows him for more than just the shark content) and she recognized you in it.
While I’m reading, another text comes through, and Marissa glances my way at the interruption.
“Sorry,” I mumble, silencing it and reading the next text with a growing sense of dread.
Zuri: Leo’s friend’s dad overheard us, and he said he saw it too and thought you looked familiar. He’d seen you when he picked up his kid from my house a couple times. Apparently a few of his friends also follow Adrian, and it got me thinking, Owen McHugh is still friends with like half our classmates. What if one of them knows about the channel and mentions it to him?
Granola bar in hand, I type out a quick response.
Hope: What’s the worst he could do? I barely talk in the videos. My one screwup was on a livestream, and it wasn’t anything damaging.
Zuri: That’s true. I guess I just went to worst-case scenario. Sorry if I stressed you out.
Hope: No worries. You’re protective. It’s part of what makes you a good mom.
Zuri: I think you misspelled friend.
Hope: Did I?
A shadow falls over me and a moment later, Adrian squats down next to me, concern etched in his brow. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Zuri just gave me a heads-up that a lot of people in town are fans of yours.” I force a smile, though the granola bar no longer looks appetizing. “Including a mom who may or may not be following you for thirst reasons.”
He makes an ick face. “Does it bother you?”
“Why? I’m not your girlfriend.”
“People knowing about you being on Shark 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.