Chapter Twenty-One
twenty-one
hope
Adrian is at my elbow, sipping a beer and keeping quiet. We haven’t spoken since the hush puppies arrived, eating the deep-fried corn fritters in blissful silence. Well, not silence, because the restaurant is packed, but peace. Not as good as being home alone on the sofa, but substantially better than having to force a conversation with strangers.
Networking with Sylvia and Liam was important—talking with them helped me sort out my goals, and Sylvia offered to send me the information about the white shark research program—but it left me drained. Hiding out here with Adrian ought to be just as stressful, especially with how we left things after our kiss, but like he said, he knows me. I don’t have to put up a front or fill the space between us with empty words.
Just as well, since when we talk, things wind up murkier. Kissing him is pure bliss. The sweep of his tongue along mine, the needy way his hands gipped my hips, lifting me up and onto him, is enough to have me reaching for a glass of water to slake my thirst.
I wish I could separate the physical from my feelings. Agree to be co-workers with benefits, or whatever, but I can’t, and from his confession, neither can he. I can’t kiss him and not want it all—the connection, the friendship, the love.
I’ve kissed other men in the years since we were together but felt nothing. No desire to bring them into my life, to open myself up to them. Without the emotional connection, the physical stuff has never been worth wasting time on, which is why my intense desire for Adrian is so alarming. What I feel with him is unique, all-encompassing, specific to him, and that’s what has me coming back for more, incapable of sticking to our strictly-work relationship.
We’ve been dodging each other’s glances all night, in only the way two people altogether too aware of each other can. More than once I’ve caught his gaze dip along my body, drinking in the curves accentuated by the seams of my dress. It’s been a long time since a man looked at me with such open longing, or maybe I just recognize the hunger in his eyes because it’s the same hunger eating away at me despite the half-dozen hush puppies I’ve put away.
He’s in the process of finishing the last bite. He licks his thumb, and a blush blooms against the pores of my cheeks. Adrian goes still, and that’s when I realize it’s not that he’s watching me, he’s sensing me. With his eyes, yes, sometimes. But other times it’s like there’s a pulse of energy between us, a wavelength we’re both on, and when my emotions ripple to the surface, there’s a brush against the piers of his subconscious, or somewhere deeper, maybe.
I deal in what can be measured and tested—in chemicals combining to form DNA expressed in biodiversity. In temperature ranges and food scarcity and predator and prey. But what’s between Adrian and me isn’t quantifiable. How I felt for him was too close to the love my parents always talk about—the life-altering, heart-over-head kind of love that had them tossing away scholarships and reshaping their dreams. And though that was never the case for us, I worried that the shift in priorities was inevitable, and that’s why I pushed him away, before he let me go.
I duck my head, nervous my thoughts are written on my face, even though people have never been able to read me, not unless I spell things out for them. But Adrian is different. He sees into my heart—what I don’t express or can’t find the words for. He’s always seen me, known me.
And he let me go, in spite of it. That, more than anything, is why I’m scared to let him in again.
The last bite goes sandy on my tongue, and I force it down, dry-throated, and take another gulp of water. Gabe, who’s quickly becoming a friend in the effortless way I wish I could’ve managed with Adrian all those years ago to save myself a lot of heartache, squeezes past the crowd and leans between us to grab me a napkin from the garnish station.
“Serrano peppers get ya?” he asks, and I nod, though the fritters have the perfect amount of heat. He gives Adrian’s shoulder a squeeze, but something’s tense between them. “Came over to check on you. Ready to get out of here?”
Adrian’s eyes flick to mine. “Uh, is Marissa heading out too?” The same concern from earlier creases his brow, and while I’m grateful for it, I also wonder what it’s costing him to show me this kindness.
“I’d say she’s pretty settled in.” Gabe hooks an elbow on the bar, turning toward me. “But she’s asking about you. Says you’ve been hiding out long enough.” He delivers the message with a complicit grin. “I get it, though. I’m all for socializing, but after twelve hours on the water, I’m ready to tap out too.”
I shake my head. “Nah, she’s right. I should go be sociable.”
The thought of going over to the crowded table and mustering up the effort to smile and act interested in strangers’ life stories sounds exhausting. But Adrian’s done enough by giving me an excuse to stay over here, and Gabe’s clearly ready to go. “Let me just settle my bill and I’ll be over there.”
“I got it,” Adrian says. “But you don’t have to—”
Angie plunks a cocktail in front of him, interrupting whatever he was about to say. “Got an admirer.” She nods at the neon-blue drink. “The woman at the end of the bar ordered this for you.” Using tongs, she plops a maraschino cherry into the glass, with a look of consternation. “People using our establishment as a pickup joint? This is what Rhonda’s brought us to. I hope she’s happy.” Without waiting for a response, she moves off, barking out an order to the bartender.
Brows up, I peer at the drink. “That is...a choice.” Inspecting it, I ask, “Are those gummy dolphins?”
“Sharks,” Gabe says. “It’s their newest signature drink. Inspired by our man Adrian.”
“Shut up.” I roll my lips tight against a smile, but it’s no good holding it back. Rising off my stool to peer at the menu, I scan the drink section. Gabe helpfully points to a cocktail midway down the page.
“The ‘Shark Hero’?” I read aloud, delighted, and glance toward Adrian.
His face is a mix of amusement and chagrin, like the year we spent Christmas with his parents, and inside his stocking was a tie with sharks wearing sunglasses, which his mom insisted he try on. She texted me the photo she took, and I kept it as my lock screen for a long time afterward, smiling every time I saw his face.
I’ll have to settle for a mental picture of his cute expression this time, since I’m pretty sure snapping candid photos of your co-worker is frowned upon.
“Kind of on the nose, don’t you think?” Gabe leans around Adrian to peer at the group of women Angie pointed to. Hard to tell who sent it since they all keep looking our way, expressions ranging from eager to embarrassed to starstruck. “Hitting on you with a drink invented in your honor?”
Adrian ventures a look at the women, who elbow each other until one of them steps out from the group. He whips his head back around.
“Interested?” Gabe asks, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting on Adrian’s response.
“Heck no,” he says, and I exhale. “The last thing I need is for Rhonda to take credit for setting me up with my future wife.”
Future wife. We never talked about marriage specifically, but we did dream of a future together. I didn’t want to get too technical, not until planning became critical, and by then, all the logistics overwhelmed me, made me worry our relationship would change. That taking the next step would make me resentful, chip away at the magic that always existed between us.
But there was a time when I thought I’d marry this man, and now he’s talking about meeting his future wife over cocktails. The food I just consumed suddenly isn’t sitting so well.
Gabe picks up the drink and holds it high. “Thanks ladies.” He salutes them with the glass before taking a giant glug. They might not have heard him over the chatter, but his meaning was clear enough. The woman looks at her companions, hesitating, then lets them tug her back into the group.
Setting it down, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bleck, that was awful. Photogenic, though.” He eyes the drink speculatively, then pulls out his phone and snaps a photo, glancing toward me with a shrug. “Content.”
“If you say so.”
He sniffs. “You don’t like social media, or is it just a lack of interest?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into it, now or ever, and Gabe pockets his phone. “Sorry, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, but it’s such an interesting topic for me, and I’m pretty sure you’re the first person under forty who I’ve met without it.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I mean, people favor one platform over others, and most don’t have public pages, but yeah. You’re kind of an outlier.” He pillows his chin on his knuckles. “And that fascinates me.”
Adrian shoves him good-naturedly. “Lay off, man. She doesn’t have to appease your curiosity.”
But I get it. Not only is it his line of work, but it directly relates to me being here this summer. I’m surprised no one pushed further until now. “Probably better y’all know since it kind of relates to the channel.”
Adrian sits up straighter, frowning.
“Remember what I told you the other day, about the town meeting?” I ask him, then turn to Gabe, and give him a quick rundown, leaving out the touchy-feely parts and sticking to the facts.
When I finish, he turns to Adrian. “You knew all this?”
“She just told me the other day.” He sounds hurt at the omission, but we weren’t a couple when it all went down, not really. Would sharing what happened and my reason for staying have had an impact?
“Anyway,” I say, not needing to go down that road, “like I said, the news didn’t air my portion of the meeting. But our town posts all the meeting recordings on their site. Nothing fancy, just a camcorder set up in the back. My former chemistry teacher heard I’d spoken at the meeting and shared it on my high school’s alumni page.”
I muster a grin for Adrian, hoping to keep things light. “Not a lot of exciting news posted there, so you’d be an instant hit.”
He waves this off, urging me to go on.
“Pretty sure my teacher didn’t watch the video, and neither did anyone else who hit ‘like.’ No one mentioned my meltdown, just a few generic comments along the lines of ‘Cool’ or ‘Way to go Hope!’ The recording was close to two hours, and my speech only a small part of that.” I heave a breath, because this is the humiliating part, details or no.
“Remember Owen?” I ask Adrian.
“The salutatorian who contested your GPA?” Adrian asks. “Pretty hard to forget a guy who couldn’t handle losing to the point he got the school board involved.”
My valedictorian status remained intact, but Owen’s inquiries sparked rumors about whether I deserved the honor and the hefty scholarship that came along with it that are still circulating in Shoreline Dunes. Gossip is a prime hobby in wintertime when the town’s population dwindles along with the temps, but I’d forgotten the longevity and virulence of it until I moved back.
“Tell me you peaked in high school without telling me you peaked in high school,” Gabe says, and I snort.
“Yeah, well, I think he was the only one who actually watched the entire video.”
“Because what else does he have to do with his time?” Adrian’s leg is bouncing on the stool, the vibrations a manifestation of his growing agitation.
I want to press a calming hand to his knee but return to the story instead. “Not only did he watch it, he helpfully added a comment of his own, telling people exactly what minutes contained my ‘performance.’”
“Are you kidding me?” Gabe seems almost as upset as Adrian, and I’m guessing he has his own experience with comment sections getting out of hand. “He pointed out your portion of the meeting just so people would watch you scrambling?”
“Yeah, and then took it a step further and made the post public on our town’s page. A few people opposed to funding the project made snarky comments like, ‘Thanks Hope,’ or ‘Our hero.’”
The Shark Hero drink on the bar in front of us suddenly seems less funny. Even strangers look up to Adrian, while I let down people I care about.
“Mr. Platt, my teacher, reached out and apologized. Said he had no idea, but of course, it wasn’t his fault. And it’s silly, really. Just small-town drama. But I deactivated my accounts because I was tired of seeing the tags.” Embarrassed at how much it hurt to see. “After a few weeks, I realized I didn’t miss it, so I just stayed off.” Didn’t hurt that it cut off my chances to check in on Adrian and my old colleagues. It made me less reachable—out-of-sight-out-of-mind, and for awhile, that’s what I wanted.
“Screw that dude,” Gabe says. “Everyone who commented probably acted nice to your face, right?” I nod and he says, “It’s a phenomenon where people feel more uninhibited online.”
“Pretty sure she knows firsthand,” Adrian says. He’s been listening intently, letting me tell the story, but I take a moment to look at him now and see his shoulders are rigid, fists bunched. “And it must be even worse coming from people you know.”
He searches my face, and whatever he sees there has his jaw set, eyes steely. “What’s Owen’s last name again?” There’s something dangerous in his tone. I can fight my own battles—have, and will—but him wanting to defend my honor? That makes me feel cared for in a way I didn’t know I was missing.
Summoning my courage, I tell him, “If he’s petty and vicious enough to spout nonsense in the future, we’ll deal with it then. But I’m ready to reconnect with friends and the shark community. I missed out on things—” I dart my eyes away when my lips want to form the words I missed out on you “—by disengaging.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Gabe sets Adrian’s drink to the side. “Just not this.” He flags down the bartender, orders club soda and lime, then turns to me. “Want anything?”
I tap the blue cocktail. “Seems a shame to let this go to waste.”
“It’s not, trust me.” Adrian’s chagrin combined with his burly exterior is the sweetest.
“Oh, I’m drinking it,” I assure him. This is familiar territory. The joking, the banter. And maybe a small and very petty part of me wants to drink the cocktail intended to woo my former boyfriend. His future wife , indeed.
“But first, I think we need to commemorate the occasion. Gabe, mind getting a photo?” I tuck an arm around Adrian’s side without thinking, then tense, but his arm slips around me.
Gabe raises his phone. “Absolutely.”
A thought occurs to me, and I hold up a finger. “Hang on a sec.” I lean over the bar and nab a paper straw. Adrian’s hand slips down to my hip to steady me. I straighten and hold it up. “Just in case you want to share.”
“You’re the personification of evil,” he says, but he’s biting back a big grin.
“I think the word you’re looking for is supportive.” Maybe teasing him is skirting the line between friend and colleague, but it’s infinitely better than blurring the line with kisses. I plunk the straw into the drink, droplets splashing the bridge of my nose.
Adrian grabs a napkin and dabs them away. My eyelashes flutter closed in an instinctual urge to capture the feeling. When I open my eyes, he’s biting his lip. “You really don’t have to drink that.”
“How bad can it be?” Putting the straw in my mouth, I flash Gabe a thumbs-up to take the photo. He raises his phone and at the last moment, Adrian ducks down and captures the second straw in his lips. His beard is rough against my jaw, his lips near mine, intimate.
Ex , he said . Colleagues , I told him . I gulp, and the moment the sugary concoction hits my tongue I splutter and flail, sloshing the drink. The cup, slippery with condensation, drops from my hand. It falls in horrifying quickness to the wood floor. When I dare to look, candy sharks are scattered amidst the wreckage of ice chips, the cherry perched atop the mess.
Adrian stares down at the mess. “Thank God,” he mutters.
A laugh escapes through my fingers, then I’m cracking up. He joins in, belly laughs shaking his shoulders. I’d forgotten how much I missed that sound. Over the years I missed his touch, missed his words of comfort, missed his steadying words in a crisis.
But his laugh... I hadn’t known how much my ears craved the sound. How much my heart needed his joy.
Doubled over, he nudges me. “Was that not heinous?”
“So heinous,” I agree, when I get my breath back from laughing. “For a drink so blue, it sure had a heck of a lot of grenadine.”
“Warned you not to try it.” Grinning, Gabe passes back my phone. “I’m going to say goodbye to Marissa. Meet you outside in five?” he asks Adrian, then turns to me. “Pretty cool that you’re not letting that loser have the last word. If you ever want help getting set up with social media again, let me know.”
“I will, thanks.” It’s really nice to start rebuilding my network. I’m ending the night with new connections, and Adrian and I managed to find steady ground. My plan to get my career on track is moving along.
“Heard there was an accident.” Summoned by the commotion, Angie walks up and peers over the bar. “What happened here?” Adrian and I eyeball each other like guilty students when the principal arrives.
“Sorry, slipped out of my hands.” I pick up the glass and hand it to her, thankful it didn’t break.
“No need to apologize.” She looks at Adrian meaningfully. “You got lucky, young man.” Brows raised, she holds his gaze for another moment, then steps away.
Whatever that was about, Adrian’s not sharing, because he turns to me the moment she’s out of earshot. “Lucky would be if that monstrosity never existed.”
“You’re going to complain about a drink being commemorated in your honor?” I pull my neck back, blowing out my cheeks. “Fame has changed you, Dr. Hollis-Parker.”
A group of tipsy people walks by and he takes my arm, tucking me against him. “Complaining, am I?” His breath a whisper against my ear.
“Sounded like it to me.” I lean into him, unsteady, and his hand settles at the small of my back. I drag my gaze away from his mouth, up to his eyes, the lights reflected in them like stars. His hand is still curled around my waist and my fingers contract, bunching the fabric of his shirt. Every nerve in my body is alive, centered on him. “A handful of fans and suddenly you’re turning your nose up at perfectly good beverages.”
He chuckles, the vibration reverberating through my body. “That’s got to be the most shade thrown at a man in years.”
I turn, back flush against the bar, the front of my hip pressed to Adrian’s. He doesn’t back away. “I didn’t mean a word of it. Especially the part about the drink being good.”
People jostle him, pressing us even closer together, and his laughter stills. His hand is still wrapped around my arm; I drop my gaze to his fingers. Remember how those same fingers used to weave through my hair, helping take down my braids. How those work-roughened knuckles tipped my chin up to meet his lips, how his mouth on mine was a decadent ache and sweet relief all at once.
The crowd parts, and with a shake of his head, he lets go, cool air seeping into the heated space between us. “See you on the boat, Evans.”
Professional, distant. No one but me would know he said the same thing in the moonlight outside a restaurant eight years ago, right after our first kiss. Keeping things professional is supposed to help me fall out of love, but he keeps pulling me right back in, without even trying.