Page 25 of Spring Tide

He swats at me with a heavy hand. I swat him right back. The cycle continues until he releases an unhappy grunt, grasps my wrist, and twists to his side. I topple onto his chest with a heavy “Oomph.” My arms are trapped between us, breasts crushed awkwardly against the side of his torso.

His eyes snap open with the force of my landing. I glance up, wincing as I take in his shell-shocked expression.

“Shit,” he mutters in a sleep-torn voice, wide-eyed as I scramble away.

“Sorry!”

“What the fuck just happened?” he rasps, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face. An awkward, forced cough fills the room. He shifts onto his back, pushing up to rest against the wrought-iron frame of my bed.

I smooth two hands over my wrinkled shirt. “You, uh, you fell asleep again.”

“I see that.”

“You were only out for a few minutes, I swear.” I nibble at the inside of my cheek, uncomfortably aware of his irritation. “I woke you up right after I noticed.”

“Right.” He shakes his head, rubbing at his temples for a few long moments. “Is, uh ... are we done already?”

“No, no. It’s just after seven thirty.” I tap my imaginary watch. “We have some time, but the next part is active stretching. You need to be awake for that.”

“Right, sure. Let me just ...” He trails off, gaze drifting from an unknown spot on my bed to the door behind me. “I’m gonna use the restroom for a minute.”

“Sure, go right ahead. It’s just across the hall, but, um, there might be some bras hung up on the towel rack. Stella likes to air-dry them.”

“Of course she does,” he grumbles.

His long legs swing over the edge of the bed, sock-clad feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud. A shocked wince twists his features. It’s so easy for him to forget, to throw around his weight like this injury doesn’t control him, as if it doesn’t rule every facet of his life.

By the time he’s back from the bathroom, I’ve already remade my bed. I’m still working on fluffing the pillows in perfect order. Of course, the tiniest yellow puff sits right on top.

When I finally glance up, Luca’s standing awkwardly in the doorway. His expression is carefully neutral, but the tips of his ears have gone red again. Yeah, he definitely got an eyeful of lacy cups and tiny, delicate straps.

“All good?” I ask, an amused smile curving my lips.

“All good,” he says gruffly.

I barely suppress a giggle. “Okay, we’ll start out your exercises in a gravity-eliminated position.”

“Meaning?”

“Hop back on my bed, sunshine.” I pat my mattress, smiling as he cocks one dark brow.

“Did you just call me sunshine?”

“It just popped out.” I slip a strand of beachy hair between my fingers, absentmindedly picking at the split ends. “It’s kinda funny, ’cause you’re always so ...”

“Cold?”

My eyes widen at his harsh tone. “I was gonna say testy.”

“Testy?”

“Mhmm,” I drag out my confirmation. “You have a little bit of an attitude, you know. Actually, you remind me of this cat I used to have growing up. His actual name was Finch, but I called him Mr. Tickles. He died when I was nine, though.” My palm splays over my heart, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Rest in peace, Mr. Tickles.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I remind you of your dead cat?”

“Mhm. He was always swatting at everyone. But at the end of the day, he loved to snuggle in bed with me.” I reel back when I catch his bemused expression. “Not that you ... I mean, not that you want to snuggle with me, in particular. But you do seem to like my bed.”

“It’s comfortable,” he agrees, one shoulder lifting in a shrug.

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