Spring Tide (Coastal University Book 1)

The sound of Luca’s moaning and groaning isn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, it’s kind of a nice soundtrack for my impromptu study session.

He’s still in my bed now, two hours after he fell asleep during our massage. The MIKE linebacker, D1 athlete, and full-time overachiever seems to be at peace resting amongst an ocean of floral pillows. He’s still fairly restless when he sleeps—shifting and drifting from one side to the next—but his eyelids are gently fluttering, so I think he may just be lost in an endless dream.

Something soothing, I hope.

My fingers tap against my thigh, drumming carefully as I sketch the tendons of a human hand. Anatomy is a difficult subject; the hand alone is filled with over thirty muscles and one hundred ligaments or tendons. Drawing them out is meticulous, but the sequence—the steady loops and twirls of my pencil on paper—helps with the organization inside my head.

It’s nearly ten o’clock when I hear the front door of my apartment click open. I set my sketchpad on my desk, carefully tiptoeing out of my bedroom and down the hallway.

“Blue Fairy,” Stella exclaims, face lighting up as I approach. She’s removing her apron now, wadding it up to toss onto the kitchen counter. “How’s my girl?”

“Shh.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’ve got a sleeping boy in my room.”

Her brows shoot up, cheeks tightening with an eager smile. “What sleeping boy? Did we finally bag Nate?”

“No, it’s not Nate.” My voice dips low. “It’s Luca, actually.”

“Luca Reynolds?”

“Mhm,” I mumble, palms dampening with a thin sheen of sweat.

“No shit?” Her eyes are filled with a mixture of pride and confusion. “The infamous Reynolds is asleep in our apartment?”

“Yes.” My heart patters wildly in my chest. It’s officially lie time, folks. “So, let’s keep our inside voices on, please.”

She plants both hands on her hips. “Baby girl, did you seriously bone Reynolds tonight?”

“We didn’t bone, Stell. He just fell asleep while I was giving him a massage,” I tell her, the words tumbling out before I can manage to properly filter them. “I mean, while I was rubbing his back or whatever.”

“You rubbed . . .” She trails off, one brow crinkling in suspicion. “Harps, what’s going on?”

“He heard about the miscommunication with Professor Gill. Um, and then, you know, he approached me and asked if I wanted to spend some time together.”

“So you two are what?” she happily prompts, tilting her head as she peers down the hallway. “Talking now?”

“I suppose, yeah. We’re talking.”

Her eyes meet mine. “What about operation Date Nate™️?”

“Oh, um, I guess it’s on pause for a little bit. I mean, I’m still gonna get to know him and whatnot.” My heartbeat kicks up a notch. I press one palm against my chest, discreetly attempting to still the thrumming. “It’s not super serious with Luca or anything.”

“I’d hope not.” She eyes me, her lips cracking into a cautious smile. “Is this, I mean, this is the first time you two are hanging out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Wow, and he’s already falling asleep on you,” she teases, grasping my upper arm. “Who knew you were so boring, Harper.”

“Oh, please.” I shake her off, soft laughter spilling from my lips. “I’m just really good at back rubs.”

“I’d ask you to give me one, but I have a feeling your hands are gonna be tired after Luca wakes up.”

“Oh, uh, we’re not hooking up tonight.” My smile slips. I press one thumbnail against my palm, shutting out the pitter-patter of butterflies in my stomach. “I’m just gonna let him sleep, I think. Are you heading to Lai’Lani’s for the night?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna shower, and I’ll be out of your hair. You’ll have the place to yourselves, so you might wanna reconsider the whole hookup thing.” She strolls right past me, her voice level picking up as she travels down the hall. “The Iceman could probably use a good stress reliever.”

“Shh, Stell,” I whisper-shout, following closely behind. “Don’t wake him up with all your dirty talk.”

“No, babe, that’s your job.” She winks at me, one hand perched on the doorframe to our shared bathroom.

“Stop it,” I playfully chide. “I’ll see you later.”

“Sure, sure.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she leans in closer. “By the way, I kinda like this for you. Maybe you can help defrost that frozen man in there. Spice up his life a little, if you know what I mean.”

An unwelcome flush of heat rushes from the heels of my feet all the way to the tip of my nose. Lying is already fucking impossible, and I’ve barely even begun.

“Good night, Stell.”

“Night, girly.” She perches a flat palm underneath her chin, blowing a soft kiss across the hall. “That one’s for your new man.”

I shake my head, turning to cautiously open my bedroom door. Luca’s standing at the foot of my bed now. All that teasing, those hushed whispers in the hallway, must have accidentally woken him up. He’s muttering a string of nonsense words under his breath, hastily attempting to slip back into his jeans.

His head darts up as I close the door behind me. His pants are bunched up, pulled halfway over his broad hips. When our eyes catch, the tips of his ears tinge a bright red.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he mutters, yanking the jeans up and quickly fastening them into place.

I swallow thickly. “Oh, I, um—it looked like you could use the rest.”Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“I didn’t come here to nap, Harper,” he snaps, voice sleep-drunk and raspy. “I came here for therapy. I don’t have time to just lie around in your bed.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it that way.” My brow furrows in confusion, eyes darting to the alarm clock on my nightstand. “I just thought you were tired and wanted to let you sleep. It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, it’s late,” he parrots, clearly unimpressed. “And I should be home right now, not sitting here wasting time.”

I blurt out, “Lying here, you mean.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I chirp back. “You know, you can just leave if you’d like. No need to lecture me, really.”

“Look . . . I don’t—I’m not trying to be harsh.” His eyes flit to a space above my head, voice dropping to a low murmur. “I just . . . time is valuable to me. Next time, wake me up, okay?”

“Okay, I will,” I tell him, injecting my tone with false bravado. “Here’s your home program, by the way. I typed it up while you were . . . resting.” I swipe the stack of stapled papers off my desk, jutting them out in his direction. “I’ll need to see you again in three days for treatment.”

He pauses for a beat. Then, slowly, he takes a step forward and gingerly plucks the papers from my hand. “Same time on Tuesday, then, after practice?”

“Works for me.”

His eyes search my face, settling on a spot between my forehead and the bridge of my nose. I think I might have a freckle there. Or maybe it’s a beauty mark. A mole, really.

“I’ll be here,” he says.

I spin on my heel, pulling my door open. “Okay, I’ll just . . . walk you out, then.”

We walk in stilted silence down the hallway, him following my lead through the open living room. Once we hit the entryway, he stills, shifting awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

“Harper,” he murmurs, finally catching my eye.

“Yes?”

“Listen, uh, thank you for the . . . massage. And thank you for this,” he adds, gesturing toward the slightly crumpled papers in his left hand.

A hopeless smile curves my lips. “Sure, a deal’s a deal. I—”

“Hey, you two.” My head swivels at the sound of Stella’s voice. She’s standing in the hallway, soaking-wet hair dripping onto the carpet beneath her bare feet. A white terry cloth towel is wrapped around her body—it’s tiny, thin, hardly containing her curvy hips and chest.

Luca audibly clears his throat, head dipping toward the floor. His jaw is tight, the apples of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink as he stares at his shoes.

“I’ll see you Tuesday,” he mutters, hastily pushing his way out of our apartment.

“Bye, Reynolds!” Stella calls after him, the door smacking shut behind him.

A giggle breaks free. “You’re evil, Stella.”

Her gaze flits down to her chest, then back up to meet mine. “God, he acts like he’s never seen a naked woman before.”

“Maybe he hasn’t.”

“You think?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure, really.” I suppose it could be true, but it’s not my place to speculate behind his back.

“Nah, I bet he’s secretly a freak in the sheets,” she argues, a wistful look in her eye. “Standoffish during the day and wild at night.”

“Oh God,” I groan. “Go have sex with your girlfriend, you horndog.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

It’s Monday afternoon, which means it’s officially the first day of my internship.

The baseball boys are training in the gym today, lifting and running treadmill sprints. Unfortunately, their field is practically flooded, filled with a mixture of mud and standing water after last night’s storm—a common occurrence in September.

Apparently, according to my supervisor, most of the early fall season is spent off the field, anyway. It’s no sweat off my back. I get to spend the semester watching attractive men lift weights, and I get to stay out of the rain. It’s a win-win situation, especially during hurricane season.

Minh Le, their assistant athletic trainer, has spent the last five minutes introducing me to the team. I spotted Nate right away, of course, that curly head of dark hair standing out like a shiny beacon. He’s ungodly levels of attractive, from his full lips to his thick lashes to his veiny fucking forearms.

I doubt he caught me staring, though. I was discreet, professional even, as I secretly stalked him in the crowd. Now I’m standing alone by the water fountain, silently observing Minh at work. It’s my first day, after all, like syllabus week in the fieldwork world.

“Harper St. James.” That familiar voice sneaks up behind me, the sultry sound curling around me like a warm blanket. “Who knew our team could be so lucky?”

“Happy to be here,” I say, turning to face Nate full-on. “I’ve been looking forward to this internship.”

“Really?” His eyes light up with amusement. “Figured you’d be bummed to be stuck with us in the off-season.”

“I mean, you guys are still training hard,” I assure him, a soft smile playing on my lips. “Plus, I really like the whole idea of preventive medicine.”

One corner of his mouth tugs up. “Do you?”

“Mhm, it’s important to be proactive. You know, prep for any self-inflicted torture.”

He sizes me up, his dark brown eyes dragging across my small frame. “So, you think you’re gonna shield me from future pain?”

“Something like that.”

His chest steadily rises and falls as he takes one step closer. “And what if I enjoy a little pain every now and then?”

My brow quirks. “I guess that’s your prerogative.”

“How about you, Harper?” He tips his water bottle to his lips, taking a deep swig while his eyes stay locked on mine.

“Do I enjoy pain?” I release an amused huff of laughter. “Nope, can’t say that I do.”

“Hm, noted.” He licks a dribble of water off his bottom lip. “You’re looking good, by the way. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your lifeguard uniform.”

I make a crack at sarcasm. “I was thinking about wearing it today but wasn’t sure it was professional enough.”

“Nah,” he agrees, eyes sparking with mischief. “I suppose there’s nothing professional about it, is there?”

“Right, yeah, it’s pretty tight.” I push past the gravel collecting in my throat. “Doesn’t, uh, leave much to the imagination.”

“No, it really doesn’t. Listen, do you—”

“Miss St. James,” Minh cuts him off, hands cupped around his mouth as he calls me from across the room. “I need a moment.”

I silently mouth a quick “sorry” in Nate’s direction, nearly stumbling as I shuffle toward my supervisor. His soft gaze seems to follow me across the room. I’m fairly certain he’s still watching me, minutes later, as I attempt to pay attention to Minh’s incessant rambling.

I’m handed a roster of team files, the training schedule, and contact information for the coaches. Minh gives me a full rundown of our semester game plan. When I finally turn back, Nate’s distracted himself with the lat pulldown machine.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I can’t help that my eyes settle on his muscular frame. His T-shirt is drawn tight, his upper back and lats bulging with every rep. Those strong hands wrap tightly against the bar, knuckles blanching a paler shade of brown.

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid, so my mind easily wanders to places it shouldn’t. Namely, Nate’s fingers tightening around my thighs. But I’ve kind of, sort of, got a fake boyfriend now. And if word gets around to Nate, I’m sure he’d feel complicit in my phony affair.

Plus, I may have a real-life crush here. If Nate is the type of guy I think he is, then I’d want more than just a bed warmer out of him. A one-night stand. An itch-scratcher, if you will. I’ve got enough vibrators for that in my nightstand drawer.