Spring Tide (Coastal University Book 1)

This week has been fucking terrible, mainly because I haven’t been able to spare a moment to see Harper. It’s been tough since we came back from Cape Casserat last weekend. I wanted to, believe me, but our schedules wouldn’t align no matter how hard we tried.

As if that wasn’t shitty enough, I’ve been blessed with bad luck in more ways than one.

“Fletcher, come here,” I call, my voice echoing across the athletic training room.

I hate to break up his flirting session with Eden, but it turns out the two of them are here for an actual reason. I mean, other than to rekindle their disaster of a relationship, that is.

I wait for a beat, rubbing some tension out of my neck as he jogs over to meet me. “Whatcha need, big guy?”

“I went a little rough during practice, so Coach wants me to KT tape my rotator cuff before I head home. Can you help?”

My knee may be on the mend now, but my shoulder’s been giving me trouble over the last few days. It could be due to that overcompensation shit Harper mentioned. Or, in the more likely scenario, it’s because I’ve been leading the team in tackles for the last three games.

“You got it, boss.” Fletcher looks me over for a quick moment. When he leaves to grab a roll of Kinesio tape, I shift into a comfortable position on the bench.

“So.” Fletcher clears his throat, stretching out a long strip of tape and placing it across the length of my deltoid. “How are things going with you and Little Miss Sunshine?”

I tense underneath his painful touch. “Just fine.”

“Fine?” He snorts, pressing another strip of tape down across my bicep. “What a glowing review.”

My response comes in the form of an evasive grunt.

“What? You don’t want to swap stories about our girls?” His laughter grates on my nerves. “You know, we used to be pretty good friends when I was going out with Eden last year. Me and your girlfriend.”

“Ah, we’re not . . . I mean, she isn’t—”

“Oh shit, Harper’s not actually your girlfriend yet.” He places a third and final strip, smoothing it into place with his palm. His face twists into a sympathetic grimace. “Is she?”

“We’re dating,” I say between gritted teeth.

“I knew something was off when I first heard. Sunshine’s never really been the commitment type, you know?”

I resist the urge to scoff. “Okay.”

What is with the audacity of this fucking guy?

“I mean, like I said, I used to know her pretty well,” he continues, clueless, rambling on about shit he really shouldn’t. “She kinda goes through these cycles of liking different people. It’s almost like she just gets bored easily or something. I remember she was obsessed with her TA for months last year, then they finally hooked up, and it was like . . . poof. Never mind, not interested.”

“You done?”

“What?” he asks, raising a bewildered brow.

“I said, are you done?” I shift up from the bench, standing tall in front of him. “I called you over here to help with the KT tape, not to shoot the shit. So if you’re done, I think we’re good.”

He takes a wide step back, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Ötzi.”

“It’s Reynolds.”

“Reynolds, sure.” He waves me off with another annoying grin. “See you later, man.”

I straighten, muttering an insult under my breath as he walks away. When I go to pack up my shit, I check for a text from Harper first. The only thing she’s sent me today is a series of smiley face emojis sent early this morning, yet the irritation still seems to melt away at the mere sight of her name.

After leaving practice, I snuck into a physics study group to finish up a weekend’s worth of assignments. I won’t have any time to work on homework for the next few days, not if I want a shot at spending a few uninterrupted minutes with Harper.

Unfortunately, that means it’s already past ten o’clock by the time I make it home.

“Taylor, what’s going on?” I ask, stepping into the whirlwind of chaos that now occupies our home.

There are piles of clean laundry strewn around the living room, pants with out-turned pockets, and couch cushions knocked out of their rightful places. My sister, usually calm, cool, and collected, looks completely strung out as she sifts through a jar of change on the floor.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” she says frantically. “I’m figuring it out.”

I glance around the living room again, confusion etching my brow. There’s a notable absence here, considering my slobbering welcome committee is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Bentley?”

“He cut his paw on a rock outside earlier.” She moves off the floor to rearrange the couch, so I step in to offer a hand. “I had to take him to the emergency vet, and now he’s sitting in his crate in my room. I just don’t want him running around the house and hurting himself even more.”

Concern washes over me. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he seems completely fine now.” She sighs, gathering up a wad of clothing and tucking it into her laundry bin. “He’s actually completely passed out in there. Unfortunately, it cost me nearly six hundred dollars just to wrap his paw and get some fucking antibiotics.”

“Oh, Tay. I’m sorry.” My stomach dips. “Do you . . . do you need some help paying for it?”

“I normally wouldn’t ask, you know that.” She shoves the last bit of discarded clothing away, our living room returning to its once-neutral state. As she shifts closer to me, I can see the tightness around her eyes and know that she’s holding back tears. “But it’s just . . . I’ve been saving up for my lab fees for next school year, and I had to lend some cash to Elio a few weeks back, so—”

My blood pressure drops. “What do you mean? What did you lend him money for?”

“Don’t give me that look.” There’s a defensive curve to her posture now, arms folded across her chest. “He just needed some money for those classes at the junior college, okay?”

“Bullshit,” I say, my jaw twitching.

“Luca.”

“No, seriously, Taylor.” Fuck. I run a shaky hand through my hair. “Our parents already cut down on Georgie’s sensory gym to help him pay for that.”

She lifts a shoulder, then drops it. “Well, it’s expensive, and I just want to help. I’m . . . worried about him.”

“Worried about what?”

“Okay, listen, I promised I wouldn’t say anything, so . . . just don’t go flying off the handle.”

My pulse is pounding in my throat. “What is it?”

“Last month, when I went home to visit, I noticed Elio was acting strange. He looked pretty strung out, too. Bloodshot eyes. Erratic behavior. I don’t know, he was—”

“Being more of a dick than usual?” I ask, cutting her off, shell-shocked by her admission.

“Exactly.” She purses her lips together, guilt clouding her expression. “When I confronted him about it, he told me he had just been up all night studying. But when I pressed further, he admitted that he took some Adderall. I think it was just a onetime thing, though. At least, he promised me it would be.”

I’m stunned. Absolutely fucking stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, Luc. I think he’s really worried about passing his classes, especially with the financial stress it’s putting on the family.”

I scrub a hand over my forehead, sighing long and deep before I say, “He’s playing us, Taylor.”

She blinks back her disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“He was high when I went home last weekend. Did some coke with his buddy to ‘take the edge off.’ Like a complete dipshit, I believed him when he told me it was a mistake. I promised not to rat him out, either.”

“Oh my God.” She gapes at me. “What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, host a fucking intervention,” I nearly shout, leveling my tone when I notice her flinch back. “We need to talk to our parents first, though. In the meantime, don’t give him any more fucking money.”

“I won’t.” Her shoulders fall, face pinched with concern. “But, um, Luc . . . I still don’t know how I’m gonna pay for all of Bentley’s vet bill.”

“Right.” I clench my hands into tight fists, willing my heartbeat to settle. “Look, don’t worry, I can cover half of it. Okay? Just give me until next paycheck, and I’ll have the money.”

I’m lying through my teeth now because there’s no fucking way I’ll have enough money by then . . . not unless I can invent a way to be two places at once. Or if I cut out a week’s worth of meals during this next pay period. After all, there are ways to make food stretch, as long I’m still loosely following the team’s meal plan.

I guess I’ll just have to make it work.

“Thank you.” She wraps one arm over my shoulder, squeezing me into a quick hug. “I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t. Bentley’s just as good as mine.”

“Okay . . .” She trails off, taking a deep breath to pull herself together. “I have to get to work, but I love you. Bentley should be out for the rest of the night. We’ll figure out what to do about E at some point this weekend.”

“Sounds good. Have a nice night.” I muster up my best attempt at a smile, but I’m frozen in place as she ties her serving apron across her waist. When the front door shuts behind her, I let my head drop into my hands.

I’m practically shaking by the time I pull out my phone.

Luca: Can you come over? I need to see you.

Harper: Now?

Luca: Yes

Harper: I can leave my place in 15. Should I bring an overnight bag?

Luca: Please

I’m on the porch waiting for Harper when she shows up, no more than a half hour after I texted. She’s already wearing her pajamas, hair tossed up into a loose bun. Even after everything, the sight of her fuzzy pink slippers padding up to my doorstep brings a genuine smile to my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, pulling me into her arms.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

I duck my head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her comforting scent. There it is—my sweet peach, sunscreen, and the hint of salt water that always seems to linger on her skin.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” I mumble against her neck. “I just . . . tonight I just want to hold you and forget about everything else.”

“Yeah, okay.” She takes my hand, gripping tight, guiding me inside and down the hallway. “Let’s get in bed.”

Without another word between us, I strip down to my boxers. We fall back onto the mattress together and duck under the covers. My body relaxes ever so slightly as she tucks herself against my side.

I’m frustrated, I’m exhausted, and I’m so goddamn stressed. Right now is not the time to be doing this, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to stop myself. The question’s going to tumble out of me whether I like it or not, and I suppose I have that fucking asshole Fletcher to thank for this.

One last deep breath, then, “Harper?”

“Yeah?”

I tighten my grip, pulling her even closer to me. With my pulse thrumming behind my ears, I let the question run free: “Do you think I could call you my girlfriend now?”

Her breath catches, and she goes silent for a long moment. There are about a million regrets flashing through my mind by the time she finally responds.

“Is that what you want?” She bites her lip, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “For me to be your girlfriend?”

My entire body vibrates with nerves. “Yes.”

She giggles, actually fucking giggles, and I choke out a sharp breath.

“Then yeah,” she says. “You should probably call me that.”

“Okay.” Finally. Fucking finally, there’s something good here. I slip my fingers into her hair, nuzzle against her neck, nip her earlobe between my lips. “Thank God.”