Page 11 of Spring Tide

“Defense,” I bite out, “focus on your shit, and stop flirting with the interns.”

I fold my arms across my chest, impatiently waiting while they turn on their heels. As they retreat, I hear one of them mutter, “You’re in charge, Ötzi.”

And there it is, that fucking nickname again. Iceman Ötzi. Yeah, my teammates nicknamed me after a fucking glacier mummy. I wouldn’t normally give two shits, but that’s the kind of lighthearted joke you’d make between friends. And we’re not fucking friends.

A puff of heated air slips from between my pursed lips. My fists clench, unclench, and eventually relax against my thighs. I turn to face the female intern. “I’d appreciate you keeping professional boundaries with my team,” I mutter in lieu of a greeting.

The dark-haired girl parts her lips on a gasp. Her cheeks flush pink, thick eyelashes fluttering as she blinks.

“Wow.” A stunned silence precedes her next words. “Theyapproached me, just so you know. And that’s no way to greet a new member of your team staff.”

I reel back for a moment, contemplating the truth behind her words. “You’re right. I’m Luca Reynolds, MIKE linebacker.” My hand is outstretched now. “Defensive captain.”

She grasps my palm, delicate fingers curling around mine. We shake twice while she presses tightly in what I assume is her version of a vise grip.

“Eden Levine, student intern. Highly professional member of the sports medicine program.” She rolls her eyes, nudging the male intern with her elbow. “This is Fletcher. Same deal or whatever.”

Fletcher takes an even step forward, a wicked grin twisting his features. “I’ve heard a lot about you, man. Although”—his harsh gaze cuts back to Eden—“I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve met my girl here.”

“I’m not his girl, just to clarify,” Eden cuts in, eyes narrowed. “Please ignore him.”

My brow lifts. “Okay.”

“It’s just,” Fletcher continues, arrogance seeping from his tone, “Eden’s great friends with Harper. Figured you all would have spent some time together by now.”

Harper? As in, Amber Isle Harper? The same Harper who introduced herself to me at the pier last week after three silent years of working just a stone’s throw away.

“Harper St. James?” I clarify.

Eden’s nod is practically frantic. “Yes, your girlfriend,” she spits out. “We’ve been friends since freshman year, remember? She probably mentioned me a time or two. You know, the quirky, overly talkative girl from her major.” She gives me a pleading look. “Well, that’s me.”

I ponder her nonsensical words for a long moment. Harper St. James—mygirlfriend? Since when do I have a fucking girlfriend? And I had no clue Harper’s major was sports medicine, nor would I ever have a reason to.

“Harper,” I repeat, bewildered. “Sports medicine.”

“That’s right,” Eden prompts, a sense of relief washing over her expression. “She’s such a star student, our girl Harper. Ratted herself out to Professor Gill immediately.”

“She told you what happened, didn’t she?” Fletcher cuts in, his amused gaze darting between the two of us. “Harper had our professor switch her placement from football to baseball. She wanted to ensure professionalism since you two are together now. Don’t worry, man. I stuck up for you. I told her it was a pretty careless move.”

“It’s notcareless, Fletch,” Eden bites out, shaking her head. “Apparently, Luca’s all about professionalism too. Isn’t that right?”

“I, uh.” What in the fuck is happening? “Yes?”

“Right answer.” Eden smiles, reaching up to pat me on the shoulder. “That’s part of what makes you and Harper such a perfect match.”

My mind is scrambling, searching for some hidden secret message behind her words. These two dipshits seem to be speaking a foreign language now. “We ... I don’t—”

“Harper wants you to message her after practice today.” Eden gives me a reassuring nod, brows waggling. “She has some important news to share with you if you catch my drift.”

I give both of them one last disparaging look, the tips of my ears burning with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. “Okay, this conversation is officially a waste of valuable practice time. Just leave me out of ... whatever this is.”

Fletcher’s smile is smug. “You got it, Ötzi.”

I stifle a flinch, eyes pinched shut for a quick moment. “Reynolds is fine.” I toss the heated words over my shoulder, pacing away from the odd pair.

What. The. Fuck?

Is this some sort of weird, twisted game they have going on between them? Some kind of impractical joke they decided to play on the team loner? Or did Harper truly insinuate that the two of us are dating?

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