Spring Tide (Coastal University #1)

by Ki Stephens

And Harper’s not exactly an inconspicuous girl. She’s all sorts of shiny, bright like the blazing sun, and sugary sweet.

Harper St. James—my girlfriend? Since when do I have a fucking girlfriend?

I’m fairly certain that girl’s spirit is filled with sunshine and rainbows and fucking butterflies. And then there’s . . . well, there’s me.

“An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” “Okay, Gandhi,”

“Basically, your entire back and lower extremities are wound up tight. Seems like you’re desperately in need of release, in more ways than one.” My brows shoot up, fists clenching at my sides. “Harper,” I warn. “Oh, not . . . not that kind of release.” She’s avoiding my gaze, cheeks flushing the lightest shade of peach. “Although, that might not hurt, either. Just maybe don’t top anyone for a while. Could be bad for your recovery.”

Harper must have magical hands or something, I swear to God. The fucking woodland fairy.

“Hey, sleepyhead. You told me to wake you up,” I murmur, using both hands to shove at his large frame. “Wakey-wakey!” He swats at me with a heavy hand. I swat him right back. The cycle continues until he releases an unhappy grunt, grasps my wrist, and twists to his side. I topple onto his chest with a heavy “Oomph.” My arms are trapped between us, breasts crushed awkwardly against the side of his torso.

“You have a little bit of an attitude, you know. Actually, you remind me of this cat I used to have growing up. His actual name was Finch, but I called him Mr. Tickles. He died when I was nine, though.” My palm splays over my heart, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Rest in peace, Mr. Tickles.” A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I remind you of your dead cat?” “Mhm. He was always swatting at everyone.

“Are you gonna make us bust our asses in the weight room?” “I was thinking about it.” “Anything I could do to change your mind?” His lips turn up in a smirk. “You know, I’m not opposed to begging.” “Oh?” I size him up, gaze drifting from the top of his forehead down to the soles of his shoes. “I think I’d like to see that. The Nathan Gunderson, begging on his knees.” “For you? That could be arranged.”

What the hell? This is not even the MMC and he has me giggling, like he has to end up an asshole or she straight up rejects him but sheesh

I appreciate the way she responds to my . . . attitude. Because apparently, that’s what I have. The feisty, ripe attitude of her deceased family pet.

If I were to make an educated guess, I’d have to assume that this girl enjoys the rain.

Me too girl

“This seems like way too much food for one person.” “It’s not for one person, you goof.” She crumples up the now-empty bags, spinning around in search of a trash can. “I brought you and Taylor some. I got lots of hot sauce, too. Do you like things spicy?” “I told you this wasn’t necessary.” “It’s all good, Luca.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I can’t just eat in front of you without offering anything. Besides, I wanted you to try this place. It’s one of my favorites.” I can feel the warmth gathering in my cheeks. “Okay.”

And Harper? The girl is . . . pure as gold. There’s not an arrogant bone in her body.

“I can still turn around while you take off your pants.” He scratches at the back of his neck again, carefully flattening his weary expression. “No, it’s . . . we’re all good. This is a professional setting, as you say.”

“Harper, can you not just stare directly into my eyes while I do this?” “Sorry, I didn’t know where to look,”

“Perfect! Saddle up, then!” He coughs, choking back a sudden lump in his throat. “Saddle . . . up?” “I meant, uh, get on the bed?” I try again, cheeks flushing as I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t even know where that came from. This is what happens when I do something awkward.” His eyes meet mine, one brow raised as he soaks in my embarrassment. The corner of his lip twitches once, twice, before he breaks into hearty laughter. It’s a sudden, unexpected sound—a loud, happy melody that echoes around the room. “Okay, okay! We have work to do,” I huff, feigning a pout. “Are you done?” “Sure thing.” He clears his throat, expression suddenly serious as he adds, “Giddy up, partner.”

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.”

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.

“There was this one time when we were about nine years old. Some kid dumped water down my pants. He told all our classmates that I pissed myself on the playground. And you know what Danny did?” She’s smiling now, fingers absentmindedly running through the ends of her long, beachy hair. “Beat him up?” “Nah, he poured water down his own pants. Told everyone he peed himself, too.” She breaks into a tiny fit of laughter. “Wow.” “Yeah, so there’s that,” I say, a chuckle of my own slipping out. “Danny and Sofia may be together now, but that guy will always be my best friend. And I can’t blame him for this shit anymore. Sometimes, we can’t choose who we fall in love with. It just happens . . . or so I’ve been told.”

“What is it?” she finally asks, gazing up at me. “It’s a poker chip, from casino night at the Surfbreak,” I explain, awkwardly scratching at the back of my neck. “I found it wedged between the slats on the pier. There’s a—” “Seagull on the back,” she cuts me off, smiling wide, eyes crinkling at the corners as she flips it over. “Yeah, I don’t know.” I lick my dry lips, one shoulder lifting in a casual shrug. “I saw it and thought of you.” “Really?” Her smile is contagious, eyes shining as her gaze darts back to meet mine. “Uh, yeah,”

“You wanna know something?” Her hand slides against the side of my forearm, fingers curling until they make contact with my upturned palm. “Hm?” “She didn’t deserve you, either,” she says, thumb tapping mine. “Not by a long shot.”

Before I can stop myself, my lips form a quiet kiss against her crown. She pulls back. “Shoot, now I’m the one that’s sorry.” “What?” I ask, a breathless sound. “I know you’re not a very touchy-feely person.” There’s a crease in her brow, a sheepish half-smile pulling at her lips. “I keep forcing you into hugs tonight.” “I don’t mind hugs from you.”

“How about two truths and a lie?” “You start.” “Okay.” She nibbles on her bottom lip as she contemplates a response. “I’m majoring in sports medicine. I’ve always loved the beach. And earlier, when I felt your lips press against my hair, I wish you would’ve just kissed me for real.”

“Then take a chance.” She presses her thumb against my palm, rubbing small circles directly against the center. “Right now. Kiss me just because you want to. Forget all the silly reasons why you think you shouldn’t.” I release her hand, snaking my own behind her head. She shifts a half breath closer, and my fingers tangle into the damp curls at the nape of her neck. “I don’t want to keep begging you, but I might just be willing to.” “You don’t need to beg me,” I murmur. “Not now, not ever.”

But I do want you, just maybe not tonight.” His palm presses against my cheek. “Is that okay?” I lean into him, soaking up the warmth from his fingers. “It’s more than okay, Luca. I had no expectations tonight other than honesty.” “I can do honesty. And maybe just . . . I’d like to hold you while we fall asleep.” His hand drifts from my cheek to my shoulder, tucking me against his side. “If that’s okay?” “Please.”

“I do want more.” My other hand comes up, slides into his hair. “Yeah?” “I like you. For real.” I press onto my tiptoes, find the pulse in his neck, and press the tiniest whisper of a kiss just there. “Was it not obvious?” He gulps, chuckling, Adam’s apple bobbing as I kiss along the column of his throat. “And I like you.”

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.

Luca Reynolds is taking me for a sunset picnic on the beach. How lucky am I?” “It’s nothing elaborate, Harper.” “No, but it’s perfect.”

Are you allowed to kiss someone unprompted on the first date, simply whenever the mood strikes, or is there some kind of unspoken etiquette to follow? Fuck it.

“You’re so cute.” “Cute,” I echo. “Mhmm.” She flips herself around in my arms, straddling my lap. Her fingertips trace the side of my face as she murmurs, “And handsome.” “Better.” Her lips press against mine. “Sexy.” I can’t help my disbelieving snort. “What?” Her tone is indignant, eyes playfully narrowed. “You are, to me and probably to everyone.”

“Wow, this is great. I feel loads better now. So I remind you of your dead, grouchy cat, and Nate reminds you of a cute, innocent puppy?” “RIP, Mr. Tickles,”

“Do you think I could meet them someday?” “You’d want to?” He flicks a mirthful glance in my direction. “They’re kind of a lot.” “Of course I would.” His shoulders relax, the slightest smile tipping the corners of his mouth. “Then, yeah. I’ll take you home whenever we can make time.” My heart swells. “Good.”

“Harper, I’m asking if I can go down on you, because it’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about since you first asked me to kiss you. And now you’re sitting here, in my bed, wearing nothing beneath my work shirt.”

“Are you sure about this position?” she asks, worrying at her lower lip. “We could just lie on the bed head to foot? Or I could hop onto the bathroom counter, and then you wouldn’t even—” “No,” I say gruffly. “This is just how I imagined it. Me on my knees for you.”

“I was thinking about . . .” I clear my throat, diving through the awkward lilt in my voice. I can’t say I’m used to dirty talk during sex, or after, but I sure can try. “I was thinking about how good you felt clenching around my fingers. How sweet you tasted. I was thinking about . . . how fucking hard you make me.” Her fingers slip further down my stomach, trailing a pattern underneath the waistband of my sweats. “And now?” “I’m thinking that I’m still hard. That I’ll probably be hard for days, just replaying the sounds you make when you come.”

“You’re really good, you know?” “What do you mean?” “You’re just so . . .” “So?” I prompt, a crinkle in my brow. She beams, her smile filled with unknown secrets. “Yeah,” she

“Hey.” He extends an arm in my direction, offering a helping hand. “Want to hop down for a minute?” I tap my chin. “What’s in it for me?” “Anything you want.” “A kiss?” His cheeks flush, lips forming a shy smile. “That could be arranged.”

“You came to say hi.” “I noticed you staring at me all morning.” My mouth drops open, cheeks warming. “I wasn’t staring . . .” “Sure.” I playfully kick at the sand. “I wasn’t.” “Okay.” He trails one hand up and down my exposed back. “If you weren’t staring at me, then I haven’t been thinking about you all week.”

When I first wake up, I think about the sound of his voice. When I step out into the morning light, I think about his smile. And when I go to bed at night, I think about the way his body feels, arms wrapped around me tightly.

“Stay the night?” “Only if I can sleep in your jersey.” He chuckles, low and deep, as he murmurs against my hair, “How’d you know just what I wanted?”

“Harper, are you sure you don’t want to go out with your friends?” She nudges me playfully, shaking her head. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

“Geeg, I have someone here who wants to meet you!” Two seconds later, Giorgie bounds into the room at full speed, tablet in hand. One tiny arm wraps around my legs in a makeshift hug. When she pulls back, she taps through a few pages on her language app until she settles on a four-leaf clover. “Lucky,” the device reads back. Giorgie stares up at me with brown doe eyes and a wide-set smile. The sight instantly melts my heart.

“Hey, Giorgie.” Harper braces both palms on her knees, bending until she’s at my sister’s level. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from your brother.” Giorgie selects a picture of a thumbs-up, which reads out the word “good.” She taps over to a page filled with photos of our family members, selecting Elio’s icon followed by a question mark. “No, unfortunately,” Harper says, sharing a laugh with my sister. “I haven’t met that one yet.” “Good,” Giorgie repeats, dissolving into a series of high-pitched giggles. There’s nothing quite as joy-provoking as the sound of her unbridled laughter.

“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.”

“You’re shaking.” “I know.” She laughs, standing there in her underwear, clumsily yanking at my zipper. “I’m trying not to. I guess I’m just nervous for some reason. I’m acting like this is my first time or something, when I’ve actually done this loads of times. I mean, not loads. God, I mean like a normal, healthy amount.” “Hey.” I grip her hand, sliding her palm up and over my heart. “Feel that?” She nods as she stares up at me. My chest heaves with each calculated breath, heart drumming chaotically beneath her fingertips. “You’re nervous, too?” she asks, eyes shining. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You’re doing so well,” I say. “Feels so fucking perfect.” She whimpers and tightens around me then, moaning my name one last time before she falls apart. “That’s it, Harps. Let me feel you squeeze around my cock.”

“Wow,” she murmurs, shifting so her head’s resting on my heaving chest. We’re both damp with sweat, hot to the touch, faces flushed. She stares up at me, asks, “Can we do that again?” “As many fucking times as you want,” I chuckle, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. “Just give me a little time to recover.” “Five minutes, then?” I choke on my own saliva. “You really want to kill me, don’t you?” “No, I want to fuck you,” she says with a cheeky smile. “And then I want to kill you.”

“Just think about, like, your grandma or something, and it’ll go away.” “Jesus, Harper.” He smacks a hand to his forehead. “I think hearing your dad walk down the hallway just put the fear of God in me, anyway. My dick’s basically crawled back up inside my body.”

“Would you be embarrassed of me if I didn’t play football?” His voice is soft, unsteady as he continues. “If I wasn’t hoping to get drafted come April?” “What?” I fumble with a response. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?” “I mean, if I was just the Luca that works down at the pier. The guy that has to scrape together two pennies just to pay for his tuition, unsure of his future prospects.” “I like you for you.” My heart sinks like a stone, carelessly tied up and tossed into the river. “If you changed your mind tomorrow and completely dropped football, it wouldn’t matter to me. I just want you to do whatever it is that makes you the happiest.”

“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.”