He’d consulted with aquarium staff. He’d devised activities with Hannah in mind, based on his observations of the girl and his own memories of what had interested him as a child. Satellite tracking of sea turtles? Check. Shark pup nursery? Check. Oyster spat monitoring project? Absolutely. He had this one chance to get this right, to let Cynthie know him, to make her see him, to get her to, well . . . like him, he supposed. He was a teacher as well as a researcher. He loved his subject. He could do this. But by the time they all trooped outside to see the submerged ceramic tiles used to monitor drifting oyster larvae, he was miserably aware that this date was going to exile him permanently to the Friend Zone. Nerds did not get the girl. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, clearing his throat. “The tiles provide a hard substrate for the oysters to develop.
