Page 14 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

"Sorry, guys, I need to take this. It's the lab," she says, pushing herself up and moving away for privacy. Her voice fades into the background as she answers the call, leaving Dakota and me alone.

"Sounds like you two are pretty passionate about your work," Dakota observes, breaking the silence that has settled between us.

"Guilty as charged," I confess, turning back to watch Marina pace at the end of the dock, her hands gesturing animatedly. "It's not just a job for either of us. It's more like... our existence."

Marina's footsteps fade into the distance, and I'm suddenly aware of my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. Dakota shifts his weight, the wooden planks of the dock creaking under his sneakers.

“What about you? How did you get into your career?” I turn my body towards him.

"Alright, but it's not your typical jock story," he says, stretching out beside me without any pretense of personal space. The warmth from his body is distracting, but I focus on his words.

"I was this scrawny kid, always picked last for teams. No joke." He chuckles, but there's a shadow in his eyes. "One winter, the local pond froze over thick, and I just... found myself out there every day after school. It was quiet, y'know? Just me and the ice."

His gaze drifts off to where the sun glitters on the waves, and I can almost see that lonely boy, skating in endless circles.

"Turns out, I was good at it. Really good. It gave me control. Made me feel significant." Dakota's voice drops, and it's as if he's sharing a secret.

"I get that." I stare at him like we have a shared understanding.

"Yeah?" He turns to look at me, and there's an intensity in his gaze that wasn't there before.

"Absolutely. The weather, it's pure chaos, right? But studying it, predicting it—it's like I'm wrangling the chaos into order."

"Exactly," he breathes out, and our eyes lock again. "You get it."

It seems like we’re both seeking the same thing: mastery over the unpredictable, a way to make sense of the world in our own ways.

"Never figured a meteorologist and a hockey player would have much in common," he muses with a soft laugh.

"Life's funny like that." My lips curve into a smile, and his arm brushes mine, sending a jolt of electricity from my head to my toes.

The clack of Marina's sandals on the weathered wood deck jerks me back to reality. I look over to see her silhouette framed by the setting sun, and her shoulders are slumped in a way that spells trouble.

"Sorry to break up the whole intense convo you have going on here, but I've got news."

Dakota sits up straighter next to me. "Everything okay, Marina?"

She stops at the edge of the bench. "My project's hitting a critical point. They just called, and there's some big issue with the coral samples."

"Bad?" I ask, already mourning our remaining days of beach vacation.

"Bad enough. Especially with the uncertainty of budget cuts." She sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I need to be back at the lab first thing. There's a flight out at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning."

"That sucks," Dakota mutters, running a hand through his sandy blond hair.

"Yeah, it does." Marina's quick wit is absent as she plops down beside us, staring out at the yachts bobbing gently in their slips. "This was supposed to be our epic vacay recharge, you know? But those damn corals won't analyze themselves."

I reach over to give her knee a squeeze. "You're saving the oceans, one polyp at a time. We get it."

"Still—" She shakes her head. "I hate bailing on you."

"Research waits for no one," I say, trying to muster cheerfulness.

"You're doing important stuff, Marina. Tell you what, we'll send you off with a bang tonight. How about dinner at Sand Dunes Bar and Grill? My treat," Dakota offers.

"Only if they have that chocolate lava cake. Stress-eating it is practically a ritual now." Her face lights up, the offer cutting through the disappointment.

"I’m sure they have that or some other yummy, large, chocolate dessert," Dakota says.

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