3. Levi

Chapter three

Levi

T he sun sinks into the horizon as I finish securing the Island Dreamer to the dock. The day with the sightseers had been perfect—calm seas, clear skies, and plenty of wildlife to keep everyone entertained. But now, my mind is buzzing with excitement about the new adventure I've agreed to with OceanLife. Helping with the green sea turtle project feels like a chance to make a real difference, and I can't wait to meet the biologist I'll be working with.

As I gather my things, I catch my reflection in the cabin window. The salt and sun have left their mark—my hair a bit wilder, my skin a shade darker. I think about my dad and how proud he would be of the work I'm about to do. With a smile, I sling my bag over my shoulder and step off the boat, ready to grab some dinner and unwind.

Walking down the dock, the familiar smells of the ocean and diesel fuel mingle in the warm evening air. I nod to a few fellow captains heading home for the night, feeling a sense of camaraderie. It's a small community here, everyone looking out for each other.

As I turn the corner, a figure catches my eye—there's something about the way she moves, the tilt of her head. My heart skips a beat. There's a sense of familiarity, but I can't quite place it. I keep walking, my curiosity piqued. She's coming closer, her features becoming clearer with each step.

And then it hits me like a wave. It's Maya.

My heart slams against my ribs. Maya. Here. After all these years.

She's a few steps away now, and her eyes meet mine. There's a flicker of recognition, and then something else—surprise, maybe. My mind races, memories flooding back: lazy summer days, shared secrets, our first kiss under the moonlight. I never thought I'd see her again, not after she left for college.

As she approaches, a mix of emotions churns inside me—shock, joy, uncertainty. I'm not sure what to say, what to do. Part of me wants to sweep her into a hug, while another part wants to guard my heart. How much has she changed? Does she ever think about me the way I think about her?

"Maya?" I finally manage, my voice a little unsteady. "Is it really you?"

She stops in front of me, her eyes wide. "Levi? I can't believe it. What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, live here, remember?" I say with a chuckle, still trying to wrap my head around her sudden appearance. "And you? What brings you back to Key Largo?"

She hesitates, glancing down at her feet for a moment. "I'm here for a project with OceanLife. I just got in today."

OceanLife. My mind connects the dots, and realization dawns. The biologist I'm supposed to work with—could it be her? The coincidence seems almost too wild to believe, but here she is, standing right in front of me.

"OceanLife. Wow." I shake my head, in unbelief. "I guess this means you're the biologist they hired for the green sea turtle project."

"Yeah, that's me," she says with a small smile.

"You're not going to believe this but I'm the owner of the Island Dreamer. OceanLife contracted my boat for the project."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Wait, you're the boat captain?"

"Yep," I reply, trying to keep my tone light. "Looks like we'll be working together."

"Wow," I say, with a chuckle. "Of all the places in the world for them to send you, huh?"

Maya smiles, a touch of the old warmth I remember. "Yeah, it's crazy."

I swallow hard, trying to steady the whirlwind inside me. This was not how I expected today to end. Seeing Maya again stirs up so many feelings I thought I'd buried—happiness, regret, hope. And now, the prospect of working together on such an important project adds another layer of complexity.

"Well," I say, my voice softening, "it's good to see you, Maya. Really good."

"Yeah," she replies, her eyes searching mine. "It's good to see you too, Levi."

We stand there for a moment, the past and present colliding in the warm evening air. There's so much I want to say, so many questions I have. But for now, just seeing her here feels like a step toward something I'm not quite ready to define.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, breaking the silence. "I was just about to grab some dinner. Care to join me?"

Maya hesitates, then nods. "Sure, why not? It'll be good to catch up."

As we walk together toward the waterfront restaurants, the future feels full of possibilities, and the past seems closer than ever.

"So," Maya says as we stroll along the dock, "I was actually coming to check out the boat before tomorrow."

"I'd be happy to show you around after dinner, if you have time," I offer, trying to keep my tone casual despite the nervous energy coursing through me.

"That would be great," she replies, giving me a small smile.

We find a cozy seafood place with outdoor seating, the salty breeze keeping the air cool. The conversation starts off lightly, almost painfully so. We talk about what we've been up to since she left—the places we've been, the things we've done. It's like skirting around the edge of a deep, dark pool, neither of us is willing to dive in just yet.

"I've been working with OceanLife for the past five years," Maya says, poking at her grilled shrimp. "Mostly focusing on coral restoration projects in the Pacific."

"Sounds amazing," I reply, taking a sip of my beer. "I've been running charters and tours here, trying to educate tourists about marine conservation."

She nods, but there's an unspoken tension hanging between us. The elephant in the room—what happened all those years ago—looms large, but neither of us addresses it.

Finally, after a lull in the conversation, Maya clears her throat. "We should probably talk about the project," she says, shifting gears. "It's important we keep things professional; don't you think?"

"Absolutely," I agree, though the thought of distancing myself from her after all this time tugs at something deep inside me. "The work comes first."

She seems relieved, a bit of the tension easing from her shoulders. "I have some theories about the turtles," she says, her eyes lighting up with the passion I remember so well. "I think the decline in their population might be linked to a change in their food sources. The seagrass beds they rely on are deteriorating."

"Interesting," I say, leaning forward. "What do you think is causing it?"

"A combination of factors, really," she replies, warming to the topic. "Climate change, water pollution, increased boat traffic—all of it could be contributing. But I'm hoping we can gather enough data to pinpoint the main causes and come up with a plan to help them."

As she talks, I watch her face, the way her eyes light up and her hands move expressively. It's like catching glimpses of the girl I knew within the woman she's become. And even though we've agreed to keep things professional, I can't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this project is a second chance, not just for the turtles, but for us too.

We finish dinner and head back to the dock. I show her around Island Dreamer, pointing out the equipment and the areas we'll be using for research. It's a bit awkward being so close to Maya, but there's also a familiarity that makes it easier.

"Thanks for showing me around," she says as we stand on the deck, the moonlight reflecting off the water.

"Anytime," I reply, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching out to her. "See you tomorrow at eight?"

"See you then," she says, and for a moment, our eyes meet, and it feels like old times.

As she walks away, my mind races with thoughts of what tomorrow will bring. Working with Maya after all this time is both thrilling and terrifying. I want to get to know her again, but I need to be cautious. She left me once—what if we start to see each other again, and she leaves at the end of the project? What if I open myself up, only to get hurt once more?

For now, I'll take things slow and see where this journey leads. If there's one thing the sea has taught me, it's patience. And maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.