Page 74 of Spring Tide

“It’s good.” His words are thick, rough with tension before he clears his throat. “I mean ... you’re good.”

“So, what do you want to watch?”

He swallows, throat visibly bobbing. “What?”

“The movie?”

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head to clear the fog, gesturing for me to exit the restroom behind him. “Yeah, anything. We can watch something in the living room or ...”

I lift a brow. “Or?”

“Or I could set up the laptop in my bedroom?”

“Let’s do your room.”

With a soft smile, he takes my hand and guides me down the hall. His thumb nudges against the back of my hand, two soft little taps, before he drops it and starts to fidget around his room. While he preps his laptop, I slide underneath the covers.

His mattress is comfortable, his room is tidy, and his sheets are crisp and clean. There are more than enough pillows for us to use, which I prop into place while he slides in beside me.

“You want to pick?” he asks, one arm looping around my shoulders, laptop braced on his thighs.

I nestle against him, shifting so the sides of our bodies are flush. “Surprise me.”

He scrolls through the homepage of Netflix for a few moments, stopping to click on some late-nineties thriller starring Matt Damon. I don’t care what the movie is, honestly. I’m just here to snuggle.

As the film progresses, I slowly tangle our legs together. My head rests gently against his warm chest, and his heartbeat nearly lulls me to sleep. I manage to keep my eyes open, if only to sneak in a kiss or two.

We’re about halfway through the second act when Luca’s palm brushes against my hip. At first, I think it might be a simple accident, but then his fingertips press into my skin, dancing toward my inner thigh. His borrowed T-shirt rides up, exposing me, and my breath hitches in my throat.

“Luca, I’m not—”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He pulls back sharply, as if burned by a lick of fire. “Was that too forward?”

“No, no.” I slide his palm back into its rightful place. “I just know you asked to take things slow, so I wanted to warn you that I’m not actually, um, wearing any panties at the moment.”

His nostrils flare. “Oh.”

“It’s just, I wore a bikini under my dress earlier. It was wet, and your shirt was long enough, so I—”

“Harper, you don’t need to explain yourself.” His chuckle is soft, fingers tightening against me. “You were just trying to be comfortable.”

“Right.”

“Besides, there’s been something on my mind since last night.”

“Yeah?”

He uses his free hand to pause the movie, voice dipping low. “I know we talked about slowing down, figuring this out together, but I’ve still been thinking ... about whatyoumight like.”

“What do you mean?”

“What you like ... or, I guess, what makes you feel good.”

My brows furrow. “Oh, like in bed?”

“Yes, Harper.” His eyes pinch shut, one hand rubbing his temple. “In bed.”

A bubble of surprise fizzles low in my stomach. “Oh, well, I could always tell you if you want.”

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