Chapter Fourteen
fourteen
hope
No outline. No notes. Just myself and the camera. And Adrian.
I rub my clammy hands down my shorts, wishing for the comforting weight of a stack of note cards in my pocket, or a remote ready to click through a rehearsed presentation. We’re anchored in a secluded cove, with no onlookers except for passing boaters and shore birds, and yet my fight-or-flight instinct is in full effect.
Filming a video that will be viewed by thousands of people—bare minimum, Gabe cheerily assured me last night—is my personal nightmare. I conquered my fear of public speaking through preparation and practice, none of which will help me on the spot.
Add to that the very near presence of my ex—the rich shea scent of his moisturizer envelops me any time he brushes past me on deck, a performance tee draped on his muscles like a sheet thrown over a chiseled marble statue, highlighting dips and ridges that are no longer mine to explore—and I can barely remember my name, let alone the bio I attempted to memorize last night.
“Brickish water—shit.” The word brackish comes out jumbled again. I scratch my clavicle, hot and itchy under the afternoon sun. A faint breeze sends ripples lapping against the hull and stirs the marsh grasses on shore but isn’t strong enough to budge the sweat-drenched curls that cling to my temples and nape.
We’re on our third take of this straightforward intro segment, but with Adrian behind the camera and the looming reality of thousands of strangers watching in the future, it might take another twenty tries for me to relax enough to get it right.
I would’ve loved to have memorized this whole talk, but like Gabe said, that would’ve defeated the purpose. The crew films in real time. This is my chance to get comfortable with the camera so I can focus on the sharks.
After my lackluster—read: embarrassingly inept—performance the first day, I need to prove I’m up for this job. Marissa took a chance offering me this position and even though I didn’t know about Adrian’s celebrity status, I did sign up to work alongside him.
One ex-boyfriend in the role of cameraman is nothing to be scared of. I just need to relegate the potential viewers to a hypothetical and our relationship to the past where it belongs. Here, we’re just two researchers, ones who used to work well together.
Really well , a smarmy voice pipes up, but I shut her down. Those kinds of thoughts won’t help me any more than simmering resentment.
A deep breath, and I try again, sweeping my hand in a stiff imitation of Vanna White. “Marsh grasses and brackish water probably don’t make you think of sharks.” We’re anchored near the shore, the waves lapping against thick mud etched with bird tracks. The grasses at the water’s edge are bleached to a pale yellow by the briny water.
The ecosystem is reminiscent of freshwater marshes back home, but the pervasive odor of pluff mud exposed by low tide reminds me I’m back where I belong, even if things between me and Adrian are murky as the nutrient-rich water flowing in from the rivers.
“In fact, the toothy creature you most likely have in mind is an alligator, but we’re—” I freeze. Should I put it that way? I’m the only one who will be in the video. “ I’m here today to talk about how estuaries play a vital role in the life cycle of many shark species.”
Adrian nods encouragement despite my halting delivery. His eyes are fixed on the screen, fingers holding it tight but gently. I know that grip. I’ve felt his fingers circling my ankles, thumbs pressed to the joint, felt it on the pulse in my wrist with his lips on mine... And now I can’t remember the rest of my speech.
The drone of a passing boat fills the silence, too loud to film over, but when it recedes and I don’t start talking again, Adrian lowers the camera to his knee, a slight frown tugging his dark brows together. “This is hard for you.”
His matter-of-fact statement makes me bristle. I hate this feeling of incompetence.
“You noticed?”
A smile dents his cheek. “But I’ve seen you corner fellow shoppers in the canned goods aisle and lecture them on the dubious credibility of some online petitions to save sharks and what they can do to make a real difference in ocean conservation.”
I pull my lips to the side. “Am I that bad?”
He chuckles. “It’s not bad. It’s you, and I—” He clears his throat. “It’s wonderful. You’re passionate about sharing your knowledge about sharks.”
“But this isn’t a conversation. It’s going to be recorded and shared.”
“Most of our videos won’t even involve talking to the camera. Today will be the worst of it. I know it’s a cliché, but people respond to real. Let your inner nerd out. Share your passion. That’s what will appeal to our followers.”
“Pretty sure my inner nerd has been my whole personality since I was six.”
Adrian grins at that, and I remember how much he loved my nerdy side. Never told me to tone it down or cool off with the trivia.
“But it’s not my personality I’m worried about,” I explain. “It’s that I’ll say or do something to make y’all look bad, and the result will be shared a thousand times over.”
He frowns in apparent confusion, as if me failing isn’t a very real possibility, and the lines in his brow are adorably distracting. “But you’ve crushed every presentation and speech I’ve seen you give. You taught seminars in grad school. None of this is new for you.”
“But this is different.”
“Because of the camera?”
“Because of everything.” I peel my collar to the side, trying to get some air on my neck, and his eyes track the movement, sharp and intense. Momentarily distracted, I run my fingertip through the slick of sweat. His lips part and desire flares, low in my belly, forceful enough to keep me still, letting him look, feeling seen.
The loud hum of an engine breaks the stillness and beyond Adrian’s shoulder, I spot the plume of a Jet Ski. When my eyes return to his face, his features are blank, like nothing happened. Because nothing did. Nothing will. Nothing but a day’s work.
Returning to the subject at hand, he says, “Does it have something to do with why you deleted your social media accounts?”
A nod would suffice. I could leave it at that, and he’d let me, like he let me dodge the question last time. But I didn’t accept this job to evade things. I came to face my past so I can run headlong into the future.
I blow out my breath and shift forward, elbows on my knees, rooted in place under his scrutiny. “You’ve been to my hometown, so you know how it is. Everyone knows everyone, supports each other.”
“Yeah, it was cool to see,” he says. “I always imagined living somewhere like that.”
I know all about the many times his family moved, about the lack of community, and I wonder for the first time if he’s found that in social media, if it’s more reciprocal than I first thought.
“Well, the research project I was part of had been ongoing for several years. They’d come up with an action plan to combat invasive species, but the town needed to vote on whether to fund the project.”
He leans back, settling in to give me his full attention. “Sounds promising.”
“It was. The lead scientist had worked for weeks on a presentation for the town hearing. A lot of locals supported the idea, but there were others who thought the money could be better allocated toward other needs.” Small-town politics that never change.
“But right as the meeting started, my supervisor got a phone call. His son had gotten a concussion during a soccer game and was on the way to the hospital. He asked who wanted to speak, and no one stepped up, so I did.” Worst decision ever.
Adrian smiles, likely remembering the all-nighters I pulled for group projects, not wanting to let my group members down.
“I’d only been on the study for a few months, but I thought I could speak to the opposition of some people I knew personally. The presentation went okay, but afterward, they opened up for questions, and I was...not prepared.” The words are inadequate for how poorly I delivered, fumbling my way through questions brought up by those opposed.
He winces, and it’s clear he understands how that must’ve felt.
“While I was busy trying to address all the questions thrown at me, a news crew came in to cover the meeting. Apparently, it was part of a ‘spotlight on conservation’ series they were doing.”
“No warning?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. But I wasn’t supposed to present, so I wouldn’t have been notified anyway. Between the camera and my lack of preparation, I tanked the Q I’m out of practice.
“Not my fault you’re easy to tease.” He bends down, riffling through a bag at his feet.
“Says the man with a list of pet peeves a mile long.”
“Hyperbole is on that list.” Adrian sends a grin over his shoulder, and my instinct is to swat him playfully, but physical touch is a definite no-go. Banter, however... That’s acceptable within the confines of a work relationship, right? I ignore the voice that tells me we’re veering toward flirting, because right now I’m having too much fun.
Instead, I make a check mark in the air. “Noted. Make that a mile-and-a-half-long list.”
He shakes his head, then straightens up, a small remote in his hand. “I know this is counterintuitive, but I think things might go more smoothly if we do this together. You good with that?”
Without giving myself time to overthink it, I nod, and he scootches in a little closer. His hip is snug against mine, and the urge to lean into him is so strong, I overcompensate by tilting away.
He licks his lips, which yes, please. But I mentally scold myself to quit staring. “Are you...” he begins, but I cut off the question with a brusque nod. This will be fine. I’m fine, he’s fine as hell, we’re all fine. Just two co-workers. Working.
“Ready,” I say, cutting off my internal monologue.
“Remember, no one’s here but us.” He clicks a button and a red light by the lens flicks on. “I’m here on the beautiful Winyah Bay with the newest addition to our team.” He smiles at me, and I wave at the camera—should I be waving? Too late. “Marine biologist Hope Evans will be joining our crew for the summer.”
The summer. That’s it. Three months to pay my dues and put all of this—the messy emotions, the stagnant career—behind me.
“She’s new to our team,” Adrian continues, “but an experienced researcher, and we’re lucky to have her.”
His words shouldn’t be sentimental, but I can’t help but remember how lucky I used to feel with him in my life. Like I won the relationship lottery.
“The feeling is mutual,” I say. “Spending an entire season doing fieldwork with sharks is a lifelong dream come true.” Before I get all sappy, I launch into the meat of our talk. “Today we’re going to chat a little bit about the life cycle of sharks.”
I maintain eye contact with the camera, looser than the first few takes. “Hear the word shark and you might think of coral reefs or the vast blue of the open ocean.” I can’t help the smile that always rises at the thought of the stunning diversity of sharks. “But you might not hear the word sharks and think of estuaries, the brackish water that forms from freshwater mingling with saltwater.”
I pause to keep myself from talking too quickly, and Adrian presses his leg against mine in silent support. Instead of getting tongue-tied at the unexpected contact, I relax against him. We might be strangers now, but we weren’t always, and my body remembers.
“I guess my new crewmates thought it would be fitting for me to be eased back into the ocean since I’m from the Midwest. A small town in southwest Michigan, right on the lake.”
“And yes, she does mean The Lake, capitalized,” Adrian chimes in. “I learned pretty quickly when I visited that if locals are talking about the lake, they mean Lake Michigan.”
I frown, turning to him. “Do we want people to know you’ve visited my hometown?”
His mouth falls open. “Shit, no. You’re right. Gabe can edit that out.” He cracks a smile. “Second day and you’re already nailing this. I’d better step up my game.” On another guy, it might be a line, but this is Adrian. Sweet, encouraging, earnest.
It’s nice to be on good terms again. To see him at his best, not his worst. Maybe if I remember why I fell for him, I’ll be able to forgive myself for staying hung up on him long past when it was good for me.
He starts recording, and I share the part about my hometown again. Out of habit, I hold up my left hand, fingers pressed together and thumb out. Using my other hand, I point to the approximate location of my hometown. “This is where I’m from, right by Lake Michigan, but I’m no stranger to saltwater. It feels good to be back to studying elasmobranchs. That’s the class of cartilaginous fish that includes sharks, skates, and rays,” I add, unsure how technical they get in these videos. “But after a few years working up north, returning to the salty waters of the Atlantic was a big transition.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Adrian says. “She was out with us earlier this week and did a shark work-up like she never left.”
My cheeks get warm at the unprompted compliment and how he kindly omitted failures that came after. “Even though I didn’t need to be eased into the vast ocean, some young sharks do. The brackish, sheltered waters of the estuaries are a pupping ground for many species.”
“Though ground might not sound like the correct term for a watery environment—” Adrian leans over and drags his fingertips through the silty water “—pupping ground is the term used to refer to areas where juvenile sharks spend their formative years.”
“A shark nursery, pretty much.”
Adrian points a dripping finger at me. “You promised.”
“But it fits so well.”
He turns back to the camera. “If she starts singing ‘Baby Shark’ I think it’s fair that I instigate a mutiny, right?”
“Oh, so I’m the captain in this scenario? I like the sound of that.”
Adrian shakes his head, still grinning, and we go on, talking about the various kinds of sharks that begin their lives in the protected waters of estuaries around the globe. It’s easy. Simple. Comfortable.
Yes, the camera’s rolling, but I’m on the water, teaching people about my favorite subject. The camera isn’t my enemy, or a representation of people looking to find fault, it’s a teaching tool. That I found my footing thanks to opening up to Adrian is a topic to investigate later. For now, I inhale the happiness of a breeze tinged with salt, and exhale all the baggage I brought with me, even though I traveled light.
Maybe I can do this. Let go of the past. Make a fresh start. Work with Adrian as a colleague, nothing more. One day at a time.