Page 14 of Spring Tide

“Like I said, I need you,” he echoes, no hint of apology or regret in his tone. “If you aren’t willing to trade a favor for a favor, then I’ll do what’s necessary.”

“You know, this is blackmail,” I tell him with an indignant huff. “It’s wrong.”

“So is lying to your professor.”

I stare back at him, long and hard, a wild mixture of disappointment and frustration warming my cheeks. “An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.”

“Okay, Gandhi,” he mutters. “Here’s the deal—do you agree to keep my secret if I keep yours? I mean, it’d have to be completely secret. You can’t tell your friends, your parents, hell ... keep it from your dog, even.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Not my point.” He clasps his hands together, forearms visibly straining from the pressure. “Just, Harper, do you agree?”

“Yeah, okay.” I finally let my shoulders drop, resigned to his thinly veiled threat. “I agree. Just tell me what’s going on, please.”

There’s a vein pulsing in his forehead now. “I’m injured.”

“How so?”

“I was tackled in our preseason game, and my left knee popped in on itself,” he explains, nervously wringing his hands together. “This was weeks ago now, and it’s still not fucking healed. I need you to evaluate me and treat the injury. Under the table. Coach can’t know about it, or he’ll keep me off the field.”

“Oh, Luca.” Sympathy melts an ounce of my residual anger. “Wait, this could be really dangerous. You should schedule an actual MRI to assess the severity.”

“I don’t need an MRI,” he argues. “I need you to just look at it, okay?”

“Okay, um, I suppose I can try,” I offer, gaze dipping down toward his left thigh. “Could you roll up your pant leg for me?”

“Jesus Christ, Harper.” His scoff echoes off the pier. “Not here, in front of the whole goddamn beach in broad daylight. What part ofsecretdon’t you understand?”

“Wow, no need to fly off the handle.” I reel back, grimacing at his harsh tone. “When and where do you want to do this, then?”

“I don’t know.” His sigh is heavy. “Somewhere private, your place or mine. After work tonight?”

“Okay, and what am I supposed to tell my roommate? I can’t just hide you in my bedroom and sneak you out in the middle of the night.”

“We’ll just tell her the same old lie,” he insists. “That you and I are together, dating. It’s the most believable excuse. And if you came to mine, my sister would go for it.”

“You live with your sister?”

“I do.” There’s an uneasy crease between his eyes. “So, what do you think? Tonight?”

“Yeah, give me your number, and I’ll text you my address.”

“Great.” He rattles off his number, patting his back pocket as I shoot off a text. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work that needs to be done.”

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” I offer him a kind smile, my attempt at a peace offering. “Seven o’clock?”

“Okay.”

“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in all this,” I tell him earnestly, self-consciously shifting on the balls of my feet. “I didn’t mean to drag you into my business.”

His nod is silent, final, lips pressed into a flat line. There’s no apology from his end, no sense of remorse or shame for the ensuing blackmail. I don’t know what I expected from him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Luca Reynolds is in desperate need of my help. Luca Reynolds is my fake boyfriend. And I—we—have a big, ugly secret on our hands.

6

LUCA

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