Page 61 of Spring Tide

“I don’t bite,” she says softly, bouncing toward the spot beside me. She unzips her bag, rifles through the clothing, and yanks out a pair of pajamas. They’re tiny, blush pink, with a hint of lace. If she truly plans on wearing those in front of me, I think I might have an existential crisis.

“Right, I just ... anyway.” I swallow back the lump that’s wedged its way into my throat. “I’m gonna hop in the shower now. I called Taylor to let her know I’d be staying the night.”

“Perfect. I’ll call room service and ask them to send up a few more pillows.”

I absentmindedly massage the back of my neck. “Could you ask for a cot, too?”

“A cot?”

“If they have one, just so that I don’t have to sleep on the floor. I don’t know that my body could take it after tonight’s game.”

“We can just share the bed, can’t we?”

The muscles along my spine pull tight. “You want to ...”

“Sleep together?” She busies herself, laying out a few more items on the bed—some lotion, a hairbrush, and one pair of big fuzzy socks. I do my best to keep my eyes trained there. “I think it’d be fine. We’re friends, right? Plus, I can even set up a pillow wall between us if you want. A cot isn’t going to be comfortable for anyone.”

I contemplate my answer for a long moment, my frozen feet rooted to the spot. By some miracle, I effectively manage to spit out the words “yeah” and “okay” without choking on them in the process.

“So get your butt in the shower, and I’ll give them a call.”

Following a simple nod, I flip around, dragging one foot after another until I reach the threshold of the bathroom. Pausing in the doorway, I pat one hand against the frame and tilt my head back in her direction. “Thanks, Harper.”

She flashes me a warm smile. “You’re welcome.”

I attempt to clear my mind in the shower. My eyes flutter shut, my shoulders relax, and my brain melts into a puddle at my feet. The scalding water washes over my sore, aching muscles, pulling at the anxious threads that twist in my gut. It’s the first time I’ve been alone all day.

I’m not used to this. Generally, after an away game, I’d spend the next few hours decompressing by myself on the long drive home. Now, I have less than ten minutes to get my act fully together.

It takes a great deal of effort to force myself out of the shower. While struggling in silence, I towel off and throw on a soft cotton undershirt with a pair of gray sweats. When I re-enter our room, Harper’s bent halfway over the bed.

And it looks like I was right. That tiny pair of satin pajamas doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Her bare legs are long and lean, sculpted from years of lifeguarding on the beach. There’s a dusting of dark freckles spattered across her shoulder blades. Her skin is glowy—tanned and vibrant—from all the time she spends soaking up the sunshine.

My entire body buzzes at the sight of her.

“Hey, there.” She pats down a stack of pillows, her soft gaze sweeping toward mine. “They brought up some more pillows and towels for us, so I thought we could prop up your knee with them. I also went out to the ice machine in case that might be helpful. Plus, I got you a Snickers bar and some chips, just barbecue Lay’s. They didn’t have very many options in the snack machine, and I didn’t know how hungry you were.”

“Jesus, Harper,” I croak, unable to peel my gaze off of her. “Thank you.”

“Sure. I figured the team didn’t get to order any food due to the storm, and it’s a little too late for room service, so—”

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s no big deal, really. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” She stretches one arm out, passing the ice bag from her hand to mine. “Here.”

I tug at the thin collar of my T-shirt, regret swirling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I was overwhelmed this week, and I didn’t know how to talk about it.” I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, patting the spot to my left. She joins me there, one knee bumping against mine as we settle in together. “I feel like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions, and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m not used to someone else caring about me, but I shouldn’t have written you off the way I did.”

She gently tugs my hand onto her lap. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I’ll, uh ... I’m gonna work on it.” I slide my thumb along the underside of her wrist. “I want to be a good friend.”

“You already are.” She shifts her hips and tosses her arms around me, face burrowed into my chest. A deep breath fills my lungs. I press my nose against her hair and soak up the faint scent of her peach shampoo. 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.”

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