Page 44 of Spring Tide

“Oh,” I sputter, confused.

I honestly had forgotten about my second pseudo-date with Nate. Plus, I already canceled on him at the last minute, so I’m not even sure the offer still stands.

But maybe I should try and honor my original plans? At least, Luca seems to think I should.

“Yeah, um, okay,” I murmur, moving toward the passenger door. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?”

14

LUCA

My headlights illuminatethe bay window as I pull into our driveway. Bentley is waiting for me there with his tail wagging and tongue flailing as he perches on the back of the couch.

He always greets me as though it’s been years since I’ve last seen him. That excitement—his eager anticipation—makes me feel a little better after this disaster of a night. At least Harper helped make this experience bearable for me.

She willingly lied her ass off to make me look better. She went above and beyond to bridge the awkward gap between us, pushing this false narrative I’d created. And then, after the charade was finally over, she let me thread my fingers through hers in the back parking lot, unaware that she was holding my last thread of patience together.

After listening to Sofia’s parting words—that endless string of bullshit she whispered into my ear—I nearly snapped. And now, I’m grateful this fucking night is over.

As I clamber out of the car, awkwardly shuffling my stiff leg in the footwell, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. There’s an incoming call from Harper, even though I only dropped her off at the bar fifteen minutes ago.

“Harper?” I murmur, pressing the phone to my ear. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet, somewhat somber as she continues. “I was just wondering, um, are you pretty far away already?”

I gently shut myself back into the car, perking up in the driver’s seat. “Did you need me to pick you up?”

“Only if you aren’t too far. I just ... I could probably call an Uber, so—”

“I’ll come and get you,” I cut in, turning the key in my ignition. “I’m just around the corner anyway.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Did you have trouble finding Nate?” I ask, pressing the speakerphone button and docking my phone into the dash mount.

“No, no,” she mutters, voice low. “I found him just fine.”

“Okay.” I scrub a confused hand across my left temple, rubbing out the lingering frustration from earlier. “I’ll see you in less than ten minutes, alright? I’ll pull up to the front.”

“See you soon.”

Once we end the call, it takes me seven minutes to make it back to the Triangle Lounge. Harper’s waiting alone out front, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in her tiny black dress and heels. She’s not necessarily frowning, but she still doesn’t look like her usual happy-go-lucky self.

As soon as I pull over, she scrambles toward the passenger door and stuffs herself inside. “Thank you for coming back for me,” she mumbles, readjusting as she pulls the seat belt across her lap.

My brows furrow in confusion, unsettled by her sudden change in demeanor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She manages to muster a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I take a deep breath, flipping my turn signal as I pull back onto the main road. We sit in silence for a good thirty seconds before I start spitting out questions.

“Was it Nate? Did he do something to hurt you?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her twisting a strand of hair between her fingers, anxiously twirling and pulling it taut. “Not intentionally, I don’t think.”

My fingers clench against the steering wheel. “What did he do?”

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