Page 45 of Crashing Tides

“Hey,” he says, awkward and a little nervous, like he always is. But there’s a glint of determination in his eye alongside something else I can’t identify. It’s unsettling.

Why does the sight of him turn my knees to jelly?

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders.

Today, he’s wearing a black button up shirt that makes him like a waiter at an Italian restaurant underneath a dark raincoat and rain boots. It hasn’t rained today, but I’m not entirely sure if Duncan pays attention to things like that. As far as I can tell, he’s kind of eccentric.

Or maybe he’s just having a mental breakdown. It can’t be easy to keep his identity a secret.

I remember belatedly that I’m also a shifter, and feel faintly ill.

“Hey,” I say back, trying to sound nonchalant. By now, my head hurts so bad that any fast movement might make me vomit.

He tilts his head. Strands of hair fall across his forehead. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah,” I say, instead of nodding.

“I just wanted to talk real quick,” he says. We’re standing between the theater and the bookstore, a ten minute walk from my dorm.

“Sure,” I say. I am so good at not throwing up. There is zero reason to think that I’m going to barf on Duncan Stirling’s millionaire shoes, except that my stomach is roiling and my head hurts so fucking bad⁠—

Duncan looks at me like he’s about to ask if I’m OK again, but I beat him to the punch and double over, gagging. I don’t throw up on his shoes, but it’s a near miss. He steps away just in time.

“Sorry,” I groan, wiping my mouth. The pressure in my head has abated, but my stomach is furious.

“Um,” says Duncan, comically panicky. He looks around. People are staring, but nobody approaches us. “Maybe we should sit down? We don’t have to talk in the shadows like vampires. Or do you need to go lie down?”

I lean my forehead against the blessedly cool brick wall and mumble, “I just need to die.”

“Um, OK,” says Duncan slowly. “If you’re asking for help, I think that’s a felony.”

“Only if you don’t make it look like an accident.”

That draws a laugh from him. He gestures to a bench across the lawn. “You want to sit down?”

I’m not gonna make it that far. I slide down the wall until my ass hits the pavement. “Sure.”

A little baffled, he joins me on the ground, like his jeans don’t cost a thousand dollars. Is he gonna bill me for those? Shit, is he gonna bill me for everything?

I want to vomit again.

“If it’s about the hospital bill,” I begin, but he shakes his head.

“No, no, that’s… It’s fine. I jumped in of my own accord, remember? I just wanted to ask how you were doing. I didn’t get a chance in class. Um, I think you were in shock the last time we talked.”

I make a conscious effort not to let my jaw drop. “You thought I was in shock?”

He blinks big gray eyes at me. “Yeah. You seemed really, uh, freaked out.”

I want to deny it, but I know he’s right. I was freaked out. “I thought you were gonna die,” I say finally, averting my gaze.

I shouldn’t have sat here. We’re at the very edge of an alley, not quite in the shadows, and there’s a puddle of puke not ten feet away. Sooner or later, we’ll be able to smell it. As a wolf shifter, Duncan probably already can.

The onslaught of embarrassment is so strong that it would’ve knocked me to my knees if I were upright.

“I guess I can see why that might be traumatic,” he says finally.

“Holy shit, I thought you were gonna drown or bleed out or get washed away by the tide,” I say, and I’m definitely talking too fast. I can’t stop. “And I couldn’t walk and⁠—”