Page 85 of Spring Tide

My sister’s response comes in the form of a thumbs-down icon followed by a puke emoji.

“Alright then. I guess I’m the only Reynolds sibling who’ll be eating Mom’s cooking tonight.” I turn my focus back to Harper. “Please tell me you like seafood?”

“Love it,” she says happily. “And I’d eat it even if I didn’t.”

“Of course you would.” I chuckle. “Okay, Giorgie, we’re gonna go help set the table.”

She waves us both off, bouncing away toward her bedroom. There’s a notable pep in her step now, meaning she probably enjoyed meeting Harper tonight. Giorgie generally takes well to new people, so long as her needs are met and she has access to a communication device.

In the dining room, Harper and I end up setting the table for five, including Elio, even though he’s nowhere to be found. My mom steps out to bring the girls their separate plates of mac and cheese. At least she attempts to blend some carrots into the mix, but anything green is an absolute no go.

Throughout the entirety of our meal, my parents proceed to bombard Harper with small talk. It’s an endless stream of questions about me, football, Coastal, and classes. Before I can successfully interject, it quickly evolves into a full-out inquisition about Harper—including her job, her major, her hobbies, and everything under the sun.

It’s like a never-ending interview, but Harper takes it like a champ.

By the time dinner is finished, she’s already standing, offering to clear the table and wash the dishes. Of course, my parents politely decline and instead urge us to make ourselves comfortable in the living room.

As the two of us settle onto the couch together, my body finally relaxes. I wrap one arm around Harper, but she nearly jumps out of her seat when the front door slams shut. It’s not long before my brother tears into the room, a twisted smile marring his features.

“Elio, hey,” I cautiously greet him, attempting to keep my frustration at bay. “This is Harper.”

He awkwardly stretches both arms into the air, placing them behind his head. “Wow, she’s even hotter than Sofia. Don’t know how you do it, bro.”

I stand from the couch, leveling him with a hard stare. “What the hell, E?”

“What?” His laughter is obnoxious. “Have you met you? I honestly don’t understand how you keep pulling girls like that.” He steps closer, gaze raking across the couch. “What is it about my brother, Harper? He must have a huge d—”

“Outside.” I raise one flat palm, shoving him backward to cut him off. “Now.”

He holds both hands up in surrender, snickering to himself as we head outside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, arms crossed for his safety.

He scoffs. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, I figured you’d be a normal person for once!” I inhale a deep breath, steadying my voice. Despite the circumstances, I still don’t want Harper to overhear me losing my temper. “First you miss our dinner. Then you act like a complete dick to my girl ... the girl I’m dating.”

“Ahh, you couldn’t actually lock it down, huh?” He gives me a nasty look. “Makes sense. She’s way out of your league.”

“Man, I should’ve known you’d act like this. I actually thought you might be happy to see me tonight.”

“Why? You finally decide to grace us with your presence, so you want me to drop everything just to smile at your new toy.”

My fingers twitch as I tighten my grip, forcing my arms to stay folded. “Shut your mouth.”

He pretends to zip his lips, dramatically dragging one hand across his face. With little to no warning, he folds over at his waist and breaks out into a ridiculous cackle.

“Seriously, is there something wrong with—” I pause in my tracks, pinpricks of ice chilling my veins. Elio is generally unpleasant, sure, but he’s never acted this unhinged before. “Wait, are you high right now?”

He squares his shoulders, instantly sobering up. “What? No.”

“You are, aren’t you?” I drop my head into my hands, a mixture of panic and disappointment swelling inside of me. “This is rich.”

“I’m not fucking high.” It’s his turn to shove me back this time. He moves toward the front steps, erratically fumbling with the doorknob. “Just leave me alone.”

“E, stop.”

He turns back, a wild, pleading look in his eyes. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad. It was a onetime thing, okay?”

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