Spring Tide (Coastal University #1)

by Ki Stephens

This life is too damn good, too beautiful, to cry over greasy boys with sloppy tongues. I didn’t grow bitter that night. I didn’t lose my faith in relationships or decide that boys simply aren’t worth my time. Rather, I learned that it’s okay to like something and then lose it. To love and then let go. Because something beautiful, something brilliant, is waiting just around the corner.

“He’s not in love with me,” I insist, the truth bubbling in the back of my throat. Eden has no clue how off base she is. “Please.” A snort accompanies the dramatic roll of her eyes. “He totally clams up whenever your name is even mentioned. Have you seen how red his ears get? So adorable.”

“I think I do, yeah,” I finally admit. Somehow, the revelation doesn’t shock me. I like the way I feel when I’m around Luca. He’s smart, handsome, dedicated, and surprisingly funny. He loves his family with all his heart. He may be guarded, but he’s been revealing all the secret pieces that make him whole. It’s not a crush, per se, but I’m not really sure what to call it.

Her head tilts. “What do you mean?” “It’s different when it’s someone I want touching me. Uh, I mean, if I’m close with the person, then I don’t mind it. I just like to know it’s coming, and it has to be the right type of pressure.” “Pressure?” “Yeah, just a firm touch.” I press two unsteady palms against my lap, praying that the perspiration doesn’t leave a mark. “Nothing too light or unexpected—that’s when I feel like crawling out of my own skin.” “So it’s a sensory thing?” “It is.”

I love their communication skills<3

I want to be everything for her that she is for me—a best friend, a confidant, a source of motivation. The reason that I feel like smiling when I wake up in the morning now. For the first time in a long time, I have something to look forward to at Coastal other than football. It feels really fucking good.

“You know, I’ve always known what it was like to be needed by someone, from my parents to my siblings to my one hundred and eighteen fucking teammates. Being needed feels endless. Until I met you, I never knew what it was like to be the one in need,” he says, the corners of his lips hinting at a smile. “And I do need you, so fucking badly.”

“So when I think about my type, I think about someone that I can be myself around. Completely.” He swallows thickly. There’s an uncomfortable tension in his gaze now, as if he’s plagued by his own vulnerability. “Someone who doesn’t expect me to think or act or behave a certain way . . . because they’re content with the person that I already am.” “You want to feel the way you do when you’re alone but with somebody else?” “Exactly.” He gives me a grateful smile, relaxing into the comfort of my understanding.

“I’ll admit, when I’m around you, I do get nervous,” he confesses. “You make me want to be the best version of myself. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t also feel so fucking content when we’re together. I love being around you, Harper.” He pulls me closer, a bubble of happiness expanding in my chest. “I love being around you, too.”

On our drive over to the Golden Cone, Harper sifts through my glove compartment in search of a pen. She pulls my hand onto her lap, doodling some flower pattern on the back of my wrist. When we coast up to a stop sign, she flips my hand and scribbles her first initial on my upturned palm. There—right at the base of my thumb—is a capital H with a loopy little heart above the center. It’s silly, inconsequential really, but for some reason, it still makes my pulse hum heavy in my chest. Moments later, while we wait at the drive-through window, I grab her hand and scribble a tiny cursive L in the same place. There’s a weight in the pit of my stomach now, a desperate, aching need to make her just as absurdly happy as she makes me. It may be an impossible feat, but I’m sure as hell going to try my fucking best.