Spring Tide (Coastal University Book 1)

Sunday mornings at the pier are usually peaceful, especially in this late-summer heat. They’re quiet, little slices of life, interrupted only by the calm sounds of the ocean and the pattering of footsteps ticking along the sand.

There are no families splashing in the water, no college students playing beach volleyball, and the sunrise surfers have already cleared out. There’s still a lifeguard on post, though, on the off chance that some straggler might take a dip.

It’s my favorite day to work.

There’s a distinct lack of pointless interruptions and irritating noises. It’s just me and this big empty pier, sorting fishing gear and minding my own business. At this pace, I could finish cleaning and prepping an entire stock of loaner rods in under an hour.

But as I tack a new photo onto the catch board, I’m distracted by the sound of my own name. Someone’s eagerly calling for me in the distance, their voice growing louder with the sound of their impending footsteps.

“Luca!” Harper’s chipper voice knocks me out of my trance. She’s bouncing on her heels as she approaches, a wide-lipped grin pulling at her features.

“Hi, Harper,” I murmur, soaking in her appearance. Her golden-brown hair hangs in wet, beachy strands that drip across the swell of her chest. Her damp suit is skintight and cherry red, clinging to her body and tucked beneath a set of tiny drawstring shorts. “You’re wet.”

“I went for a swim before my shift.” She takes a few deep breaths, gesturing toward the open ocean. “It’s so nice out there this morning.”

“Seems like it’d be cold.”

“It was surprisingly warm.” Her flushed cheeks settle into a softer form of her signature smile. “How was your knee after the game? I was worried about you last night, especially because I couldn’t watch in real time.”

“That’s right. You were out last night.” I clear my throat, tucking a few more photographs onto the board. “Your big date with Nate Gunderson.”

“It wasn’t really a date,” she clarifies, bouncing up to my side. “And can you not say his name so loudly, please?”

“You afraid that old couple’s gonna hear me?” I tease, nodding about a hundred yards down the beach. “Or are you concerned about the seagulls?”

She snorts, eyes flashing with a hint of genuine surprise. “You really are obsessed with seagulls.”

“You know what?” I fold my arms over my chest, turning away from the catch board to face her full-on. “Just for that, I’m not gonna tell you how our game went.”

“Oh no, please tell me.” She chuckles softly, planting both hands on her hips. “I’m dying to know. You don’t look like you’re in any pain right now, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

“The game went fine. I think our emergency session really helped.”

There’s a quick sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s so good to hear because—”

“Uh, sorry,” I cut her off, the incessant buzzing from my pocket serving as an unwelcome distraction. I take a subtle peek, noticing my best friend’s name flashing across the screen. “I need to take this call.”

“Oh, no worries.” She shrugs, waving and smiling as I press the phone to my ear. “I’ll see you later, Luca.”

My gaze follows along as she bops back to the lifeguard stand. There’s a definite pep in her step this morning. She seems more high-spirited than normal—refreshed—and she was apparently worried about me last night.

While Harper was on her date with Nate Gunderson, she couldn’t help but worry about my performance in the game. Or she was worried about my knee, at the very least.

That would make sense, considering she has a personal stake in my recovery.

Of course.

“Hey, man,” I mutter into the phone, attempting to keep the frustration from my voice. “Everything okay?”

“What?” Danny releases a derisive snort. “I can’t call you if it’s not Tuesday at six o’clock?”

“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just . . . what’s up, Danny?”

“I’m thinking about coming down to visit this weekend.” There’s an air of awkwardness in his tone. “Our team has a bye week. Thought we could grab dinner or something Saturday night.”

“We’re playing the Eagles on Saturday.”

“Fuck, that’s right.” I pin my cell phone against my shoulder, finishing up the catch board as he jabbers on. “What about Friday? We’re only gonna be back for two nights.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks. “We?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m bringing Sofia with me,” he cautiously admits. “It’s just, she hasn’t been back much since her parents moved to Greece.”

“Right.”

“I mean, you already knew that. Sorry,” he manages to spit out. “It’s uh, she’s just gonna stay with my folks while we have dinner. If that’s fine?”

There’s a deep pit forming in my stomach. The contents of my breakfast threaten to spew out, but I take a few seconds to swallow them back.

“She should come with us.”

A long, piercing silence follows my suggestion. “What?”

“Yeah, she should come. We can make it a double date.” My words are nonchalant, but there may be a hive or two that’s developed on the back of my neck. “I’ve been wanting you to meet Harper anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm.

“Alright, Luc. That sounds great.” His words are eager, rushed as he carries on. “And what about Saturday before the game—could you spare a few minutes to swing by your parents’ place? I’d like to say hi to the fam, especially Giorgie.”

I massage my left temple. “I don’t know that I’ll have time for that.”

“Ah, come on,” he urges. “When was the last time you saw them all in person?”

“Yeah, it has been a while,” I admit, the guilt settling deep inside my chest. “But I’ve been busy as hell.”

“No worries, I guess I can catch them next visit. Are they at least going to your game, then?”

“No.” This time, I don’t bother to restrain my frustration. “You know my parents can’t bring Giorgie to the games. She’s not big on crowds. All the noise and people.”

“Damn, I thought she might have grown out of that by now.”

If I wasn’t already irritated beyond recognition, his offhand comment would’ve thrown me over the edge. “Is that a joke?”

“No, man, I’m sorry.” He swears under his breath. “That wasn’t a joke . . . don’t know why I said that.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Giorgie’s perfect the way she is.”

“I know.” He speaks slowly, carefully selecting his next words to keep my temper in check. “I wouldn’t want to change anything about her, you know that. Your family’s my family.”

“I’ve gotta get going, anyway. I’m actually at work right now, so we’ll just see you Friday.”

“Friday, it is.” There’s a quick pause, then, “Love you, man.”

“See ya.” I end the call, stuffing my cell phone into my back pocket. Now I’m frustrated with both myself and with Danny—me for making that shithead suggestion and him for making that shithead comment.

I scrub both hands across my forehead and tug at the ends of my hair. Good going, Luca. Now I’m stuck spending Friday night with both my fake girlfriend and my ex-girlfriend.

It’s a two-in-one special.

There’s nothing like the heady anticipation of asking your fake sort-of girlfriend on a fake sort-of date.

I couldn’t bring myself to approach Harper directly after that phone call, so I waited. It’s only been two days, but Danny’s already given me three reminders about our upcoming rendezvous: two texts and one scheduled phone call.

My best friend is fucking eager, that’s for sure. And I’m . . . rightfully freaking out. I haven’t asked a girl out on a first date since I was seventeen years old. Not that this is an actual date, but the stakes are just as monumental.

If Harper says no, if she says it’s not part of our deal, then I’ll be spending my Friday night looking like a lonely asshole. I’ll be forced to suffer through an entire evening with the loved-up couple because there’s no way I’m telling Danny to uninvite his girlfriend. Not at this point.

That would make it seem like I still care when I really don’t.

I mean, I hardly do.

Harper answers her front door at the first sound of my knocking. Her face lights up with that happy-go-lucky smile, we exchange a quick greeting, and she guides us back toward her bedroom. I’m sweating bullets as I trail behind her, even though I’ve thrown on a thin T-shirt and athletic shorts tonight.

I decided not to bother with the jeans this time, considering my pants are coming off in a matter of minutes. As soon as she closes her bedroom door, I strip down to my boxers and settle onto her mattress.

She blinks a few times in my direction, lips curling in subtle amusement. “Someone’s eager to get started.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” I awkwardly chuckle, heat warming the back of my neck.

“Great, I thought we could add in some more resistance exercises tonight. I brought some light ankle weights and these exercise bands.” She’s a ball of excited energy, bouncing on her feet as she gathers up the equipment. “I think you might be up for the challenge.”

“Okay.” My eyes squeeze shut, word vomit spilling out before I can restrain it. “Will you go out with me on Friday night? On a date?”

She’s quiet for a few long moments, during which I spend every painstaking second contemplating my own existence. When she finally opens her mouth, all that comes out is a very confused “Umm . . .”

“Not a real date,” I quickly clarify, pressing my sweat-damp palms against my thighs. “My best friend is coming into town with his girlfriend, and he wants to meet you. I told him I’d ask, but if you already have plans or you think it’s too—”

“I kinda do have plans,” she cuts in, a strange quirk to her brow. “I’m supposed to meet Nate for drinks again.”

“Right, Nate.” I clear my throat, spine stiff as I perch on the edge of her bed. “Just thought I’d ask. No worries. We should get started, though.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She settles into the desk chair, her gaze soft as she assesses me. “I can always reschedule with Nate. I mean, we can do drinks anytime. You’re my friend, Luca. If you need me on Friday, then I’m coming with you.”

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“Duh.” She laughs, and it’s a soft, musical sound that softens my rigid posture. “I think it sounds fun. What’s your bestie like?”

“My bestie?” I snort, rubbing some tension out of my shoulder. “He’s a decent guy. We’ve been friends for ages.”

“But he doesn’t live here?”

“He goes to Dayton. He’s there on a D1 scholarship.”

She tilts her head, brows drawn back together in confusion. “If he doesn’t go to Coastal and he doesn’t play for the Ospreys, why’d you lie to him about us?”

My brain scrambles to generate a believable excuse, something that sounds a lot better than the truth. First, that I’m a desperate fool. And second, that I wanted to show my best friend and my ex that I don’t give a fuck about their relationship.

That I’ve moved on to greener pastures.

“I told you it was between us,” I carefully admit my partial truth. “I made you lie to your friends, and I don’t do double standards.”

“I guess that makes sense.” She leans forward in her chair, elbows propped on her knees as our eyes meet. “So how are we gonna do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know you have to at least pretend to like me on Friday, right?”

My gaze trails across her face, taking note of the open vulnerability in her features. She’s joking with me now, but there’s an underlying sense of insecurity behind her words. “I do like you.”

Her lips curve with the hint of a smile, a dusting of peach coloring her cheeks. “You do?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“I mean, I thought we might be friends now. But I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how you felt, ’cause you’re always so . . .”

“Unfriendly?”

She taps her fingers against her chin, resting it in the palm of her hands. “Broody, contemplative, private.”

“Well, I like you, Harper,” I repeat, the words rolling easily off my tongue. “There, now you don’t have to doubt it. You’re one of the few people at this school I actually enjoy being around.”

That earns me another blush, a hint of warmth camouflaging her freckles. “I like you, too, Luca.”

“Well, good, then.” My chest feels lighter, weightless now that she’s officially agreed to be my date. “We shouldn’t have any trouble faking it.”

“Except for the physical part, right?”

“What?”

“How much PDA do you like to do when you’re in a relationship?” she asks, that weightless feeling suddenly disappearing. My chest is tight again, heart pattering against my breastbone. “Just so I know how much to touch you on Friday.”

“We don’t . . . I mean, none?” I sputter, subtly pushing against my sternum. “Like you said before, I’m a private person. We don’t need to worry about how much to touch each other in front of my friend and his girlfriend.”

“Not even holding hands? Or, like, a quick kiss on the cheek?”

“Maybe . . . maybe the hand thing,” I relent. It doesn’t seem like a terrible idea, holding hands with Harper in front of Danny and Sofia. I’m sure they’ll be doing much more than that themselves. “I don’t know, can we just play it by ear?”

“Sure, Luca,” she says brightly, popping up from her seat and nudging me on the shoulder. “Friday night. Me and you, playin’ it by ear.”

“Great.”

“Enough chitchat.” She rubs her hands together, grabbing a few bands and gesturing for me to lie down. “Let’s get to work.”

I shake my head, attempting to relax my erratic heartbeat. This is what I’m here for—relaxation, rejuvenation, and recovery. Harper’s my wellness coach, my physical therapist, my fake girlfriend, and I guess now . . . one of my only friends outside of Daniel.

And she already touches me all the fucking time, so that was a fairly innocent question. There’s no reason, none at all, that it should’ve rattled me down to my bones.