Page 1 of Spring Tide

1

HARPER

The beachnever used to be my favorite place. The coarse scratching of sand on my thighs. The grainy, unnerving squish between my toes. The ice-cold salt water splashing in my eyes.

It was pure torture. Until one day, it wasn’t.

I remember it so vividly, that summer day when I turned sixteen. It was the day I decided that the beach was my salvation.

It all started with a boy, of course. A much older boy who gave me my first kiss. An innocent game of truth or dare in the basement of his parents’ house. But then that dreamy college freshman, the one who spouted empty promises, would end up sleeping with someone else.

And I would end up crying on the beach alone, wondering where I went wrong.

Until the moment I saw them—the electric-blue waves that lit up Cape Casserat. It was natural bioluminescence, a rare sea sparkle caused by microscopic plankton. But for me, in that silent crestfallen moment, it was pure fucking magic.

I’ll never forget the way I felt that night, staring out at the bright blue shore. The truth,myundeniable truth, hit me like a tidal wave. This life is too damn good, too beautiful, to cry over greasy boys with sloppy tongues.

I didn’t grow bitter that night. I didn’t lose my faith in relationships or decide that boys simply aren’t worth my time. Rather, I learned that it’s okay to like something and then lose it. To love and then let go. Because something beautiful, something brilliant, is waiting just around the corner.

Now, six years later, I still carry that little piece of wisdom with me. Instead of tucking her away in a spare corner of my heart, I wear her proudly.

“Heads up, Harper!”

My gaze cuts to the left, arms raised to catch a wayward volleyball. It sits heavy in my hands as I turn it over. My heart sputters, fingers drumming in time against the patchwork leather, a quick repetition of three soft beats.

So I guess hedoesknow my name. Nate Gunderson, Coastal U’s star baseball player and sunshine in human form. The curly-haired senior who spent his summer hanging out at Amber Isle: playing volleyball, drinking beers, and tanning those glorious abs.

My bare, sand-covered toes tap against my lifeguard stand. Nearly giddy with anticipation, I straighten my posture as he approaches, his lips turning up in a genuine smile.

“Nice catch, Harps,” he says, charming me with a casual nod of his head.

Oh wait, was that anickname?

“Thanks for the warning,” I chirp back, gazing down at him. “I probably wouldn’t have caught it, but I was watching you play. I mean, notyouspecifically—your friends.” My fingers nervously twitch against the ball. “You guys come here a lot.”

His grin widens. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the water?”

“Oh!” My knee is bouncing now, cheeks tightening with an unabashed smile. “I can watch both. I’m a great multitasker.”

“I bet you are.” His palms raise, fingers slightly curled as I toss him the ball. “You think you could take a break, though? Join us on the court?”

“My shifts are only four hours,” I confess, one palm flattened against my shaking knee. “I’m not allowed to take breaks, really. But thank you for the invite.”

“Sure thing, Harper,” he says with a wink.

An actualwink. Nate Gunderson, my junior summer crush, has just winked at me. Or, at least, I think it was a wink. Maybe he was blinking away a piece of sand. Either way, he clearly knows who I am now.

I’m pretty sure that’s the first step to any great love story.

These days, I find myself falling for a new boy for breakfast and then forgetting his name by dinner. I’m not afraid to lean into a fleeting infatuation. But when it comes to Nate, there’s something about him that draws me deeper.

In public, he’s always smiling, always joking, always radiating positivity. But I think, behind closed doors, there might be something hidden there. Something in his spirit that resonates with mine.

This term, I’m determined to prove myself right. To find out, once and for all, if Nate Gunderson is worth pining for.

* * *

It’sdusk by the time my shift is over. Although it’s only seven o’clock, a tiny sliver of moonlight peeks through the gray-blue sky. The waves are quiet tonight. Slow, steady, a sweet, lulling swoosh at low tide.

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