Page 96 of Spring Tide

“I went a little rough during practice, so Coach wants me to KT tape my rotator cuff before I head home. Can you help?”

My knee may be on the mend now, but my shoulder’s been giving me trouble over the last few days. It could be due to that overcompensation shit Harper mentioned. Or, in the more likely scenario, it’s because I’ve been leading the team in tackles for the last three games.

“You got it, boss.” Fletcher looks me over for a quick moment. When he leaves to grab a roll of Kinesio tape, I shift into a comfortable position on the bench.

“So.” Fletcher clears his throat, stretching out a long strip of tape and placing it across the length of my deltoid. “How are things going with you and Little Miss Sunshine?”

I tense underneath his painful touch. “Just fine.”

“Fine?” He snorts, pressing another strip of tape down across my bicep. “What a glowing review.”

My response comes in the form of an evasive grunt.

“What? You don’t want to swap stories about our girls?” His laughter grates on my nerves. “You know, we used to be pretty good friends when I was going out with Eden last year. Me and your girlfriend.”

“Ah, we’re not ... I mean, she isn’t—”

“Oh shit, Harper’s not actually your girlfriend yet.” He places a third and final strip, smoothing it into place with his palm. His face twists into a sympathetic grimace. “Is she?”

“We’re dating,” I say between gritted teeth.

“I knew something was off when I first heard. Sunshine’s never really been the commitment type, you know?”

I resist the urge to scoff. “Okay.”

What is with the audacity of this fucking guy?

“I mean, like I said, I used to know her pretty well,” he continues, clueless, rambling on about shit he really shouldn’t. “She kinda goes through these cycles of liking different people. It’s almost like she just gets bored easily or something. I remember she was obsessed with her TA for months last year, then they finally hooked up, and it was like ... poof. Never mind, not interested.”

“You done?”

“What?” he asks, raising a bewildered brow.

“I said, are you done?” I shift up from the bench, standing tall in front of him. “I called you over here to help with the KT tape, not to shoot the shit. So if you’re done, I think we’re good.”

He takes a wide step back, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Ötzi.”

“It’s Reynolds.”

“Reynolds, sure.” He waves me off with another annoying grin. “See you later, man.”

I straighten, muttering an insult under my breath as he walks away. When I go to pack up my shit, I check for a text from Harper first. The only thing she’s sent me today is a series of smiley face emojis sent early this morning, yet the irritation still seems to melt away at the mere sight of her name.

* * *

After leaving practice,I snuck into a physics study group to finish up a weekend’s worth of assignments. I won’t have any time to work on homework for the next few days, not if I want a shot at spending a few uninterrupted minutes with Harper.

Unfortunately, that means it’s already past ten o’clock by the time I make it home.

“Taylor, what’s going on?” I ask, stepping into the whirlwind of chaos that now occupies our home.

There are piles of clean laundry strewn around the living room, pants with out-turned pockets, and couch cushions knocked out of their rightful places. My sister, usually calm, cool, and collected, looks completely strung out as she sifts through a jar of change on the floor.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” she says frantically. “I’m figuring it out.”

I glance around the living room again, confusion etching my brow. There’s a notable absence here, considering my slobbering welcome committee is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Bentley?”

---