Chapter Twenty-Two

That Night

In February of freshman year, I drove to Clemson on a Friday night, arriving just after midnight. I hadn't planned on this, I didn't pack any clothes, I just jumped in my car and drove. I had hours to think about what Oliver had just said to me.

"I'm not sleeping with a virgin," he said, grabbing my phone and ushering me to the door. "I don't mess with that." Before he shut the door in my face, he snorted a laugh and said, "Good luck finding someone who will."

We had been dating for two weeks at that point. I stood in his dorm room hallway, holding my jacket, reliving a similar comment I'd received a month earlier from Charlie Price. He didn't want to have sex with a virgin either, thinking I would immediately fall in love and be obsessed with him.

I texted Tucker when I parked my car. When he didn't answer immediately, I panicked that he was in his room with a girl. I'd spent the entire drive down there convincing myself that it wasn't a bad idea, that I wasn't about to offer him a crazy proposition.

His non-answer was my sign from the Universe that this crazy venture was not supposed to take place. I could have gone to Johnny's to spend the night, but he could be with Serena, and he would probably turn me away. I had nowhere to go but back to school, and I'd just driven hours.

I pressed my feet into the seat and started to cry. I liked to cry. I liked having emotion pour from me and, being with a group of mostly boys, it meant that my friends knew something was wrong.

My door handle pulled.

"Ella?" Tucker called from behind the window. He wore short sleeves, his breath hung in the cold air. He rapped his knuckles and called my name. When I unlocked the car, he opened the door and squatted down, cupping my face.

"Are you okay?" he demanded.

It was as if he knew I would only present myself to him if something was wrong.

"I'm fine," I sobbed.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm physically okay."

He pulled me out of the car and reached in to turn it off. I didn't have my jacket on, so he put his arm around me, something he hadn't done since my first morning at college. He held me to him and walked me toward the door. I promised I would tell him what was wrong when we got inside.

Tucker lived in an apartment-style dorm where he shared a kitchen and living room with roommates, but he had his own bedroom. He guided me inside. He shut the door behind him and said, "What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

I stood in his room, looking at the disheveled bed sheets, the books on his desk, the lamp Lori picked out when she went shopping with me and my mom. He waited in front of me in a white t-shirt and sweatpants, hands on his hips.

I swallowed. "Oliver broke up with me."

"Who's he?"

"This guy I was seeing."

"Okay. And?"

"He wouldn't sleep with me." I gauged his response. "Because I'm a virgin."

Tucker blinked. He did not find that information to be as shocking as I assumed.

I tied my fingers together, reminding myself that this was the moment I should back out. I hadn't asked him anything, he never needed to know why I drove four hours to his bedroom.

My eyes landed on his dresser. I wouldn't be able to do this if he had pictures of his family or his friends staring at us, but he only had one photo next to a pair of boxers and an empty beer can.

It was a picture of me.

Two birthdays ago I had given it to him: a polaroid of me blowing a kiss that I glued to a one-dollar cardboard frame from Michael's. I had said, "You know, because you're so obsessed with me."

Tucker frowned and threw hands out. "Ella, what are you doing here?"

I blurted, "I want you to have sex with me."

He froze. His eyes grew. His cheeks even turned a shade of pink. "Is this a joke?"

"No." I pulled my boots off.

"Why are you taking your shoes off?"

"Because I want you to have sex with me."

"Stop saying that!" he demanded. "Put your shoes back on."

"I just need to not be a virgin anymore," I said.

"That's not my problem."

"Please! Just have sex with me, I know you must have a bulk package of condoms from Costco around here somewhere."

" Jesus Christ ."

"You've seen my boobs, okay? It's my turn. Tit for tat."

"That is not the same! You keep your tits and I'm going to keep my tat, this is not happening." He spun around and put his hands on his head.

I looked at the muscles rippling in his back and thought it was a good thing he turned around. I could get this out better without him looking at me. The speech felt easier in the car.

"It's not that big of a deal. You're a guy, I'm a girl, we have all the right parts to get it done, and then I don't have to be a virgin anymore. I just want to get it over with."

"Then go find someone to have sex with," he growled.

"I tried!" I pulled my hair from its ponytail. I knew this might sway him.

He whipped around again. He assessed my hair, my vibrating hands, and my mouth. I licked my dry lips.

He said, "You have lost your mind."

"No, I've thought about it -"

"This is the craziest thing you've ever said." He grabbed my shoulders and tried to push me toward his door.

"Stop it!" I held myself firm.

He dropped his arms, saying, "You don't even know what you're asking! You say this now and we'll do it and then you'll get mad at me and never speak to me again."

"That's what you're afraid of?"

He stepped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. " Of course . We're friends. You don't fuck around with your friends."

"We're not really that close of friends."

He opened his eyes and gave me a look. We only claimed friendship when it suited us: when I needed a ride or when people questioned his love notes or when he jokingly said I love you. We were ‘not friends' when he wanted a say in my love life, when he kissed me, when we argued.

Tucker said, "It'll make things weird between us."

I argued, "No weirder than you already having seen me half-naked or making out on a family vacation. We got over prom ."

He looked down at the ground, sucking in air, his chest rising and falling.

I realized that he might not have gotten over prom. We had been in a sudden, blissful bubble and then I ripped myself out of it. We didn't talk about it anymore. Everything went back to normal for me, except for the fluttery feeling I got when he touched me or when I caught him staring.

"Ella, don't ask me to do this." He squinted. "Why did you ask me ?"

My eyes flashed to the picture on his dresser. I shrugged, hoping I hadn't misunderstood every interaction of our entire lives. "I knew that you, you know…"

He didn't know.

I begged with my eyes for him to know.

He dragged his eyes down the length of my body and bit the side of his lip.

" That ," I muttered.

He exhaled. "That I get hard just looking at you?"

"Don't say it like that," I groaned.

"You're asking for sex, you're going to have to get a little comfortable with the idea. You're literally asking me to get hard for you."

I covered my face. " Tucker ."

"We can't do it if you won't even look at me!"

"Please." I dropped my hands. "I drove all this way, and I'm very sure I want to do this."

He winced. "Why didn't you ask Johnny?"

"Because the thought of that…makes me physically ill." I might have actually gagged a little.

"The asking or the doing?"

"Doing." I shook out the image. "I do not want anything remotely resembling…"

Tucker stepped toward me. His voice was heavy when he said, "But you do want it from me."

My breath was shaking. Every part of me was shaking. I felt his hot air on my face, felt the heat of his body, the want dripping off of him.

I stammered, "I-I feel safe with you. Around you. I know you would do this for me, and we could go back to normal after. I trust you." I finally met his eyes. "I think I trust you more than anyone."

He stared at me, raising his eyebrows. "You're sure you want this?"

"Yes." I was very steady in my answer.

"Absolutely sure?"

" Yes ."

"So…we're going to do this." He inhaled sharply. "I'm going to have sex with you."

My throat went dry. I nodded. "When?"

"Now."

" Now ?"

He brushed past me and hit the light switch, bathing his bedroom in darkness. Everything looked blue as my eyes adjusted. I asked, "Why did you do that?"

"Because you'll freak out when you see my penis."

"Why do I have to see it?" I balked. "Shouldn't it be hidden away somewhere? Isn't that the point?"

Tucker came back in front of me, biting back a smile, hovering over me. "You should take your top off."

I drew back. "I don't think that's necessary."

"Trust me," he said. "You have to relax a little bit or it's not going to feel good."

"I don't need it to feel good, I just need it to be over with."

"You expect me to just stick it in?"

"If that's the definition of de-virginizing me, then yes!"

He dipped his head toward me. "If you're doing this with me , it's going to feel good. Besides, no one likes a dry slip-and-slide. Nothing will happen if you don't relax." He pulled his shirt off.

I might have made some kind of sound at the sight of his strong, warm bare chest because he smiled. I'd watched him peel his shirt off a million times. I'd woken up in a twin bed to the sight of him in nothing but tented boxers. I knew what his upper body looked like, but to have it presented in this context, a feast god knows how many girls have enjoyed, made me a little excited.

His hands went to the hem of my sweatshirt. "I'm going to take this off."

"I'll be cold," I whispered.

"Not for long." He peeled it over my head. When I stood there in just my pink bra, he moaned. "Today you wear the bra."

I couldn't help but laugh.

He smiled. "I'm going to kiss you, too."

"Do you have to?" I wondered. "It's not part of the mechanics."

His right hand brushed my cheek. "I have to, Ella. I really, really have to. If this is going to happen, please let me kiss you." He focused on my mouth and said, "If you ever want me to stop any of it, at any point, just tell me and I will stop. Okay? Just say stop and it'll stop."

"Okay," I whimpered.

"Okay?"

I nodded.

With that confirmation, Tucker took my face in his hands and pulled my mouth to his. I thought he would start slow and soft, but he devoured it. His tongue lashed against mine, and I gasped and moaned, needing it, my head feeling light. While he kissed me, he reached back and unhooked my bra. It fell to the floor and my cold skin prickled a moment before his hot hand covered one breast. He ran fingers over my taut nipple, kissing down the side of my neck. When his tongue licked my chest, I knew what he meant about needing to feel good. Moisture surged in my core.

He whispered, "You trust me, right?"

I couldn't think straight, but I knew the answer. As he continued to kiss every part of my chest and neck and face, his hands pulled my leggings down. "Step out of them," he ordered. I was distracted, but I did whatever he said. His hand ran down the wet part of my underwear. His finger dipped inside, and my breath hitched. I grabbed his shoulder.

"Trust me," he murmured in my ear.

While I stood in his bedroom, completely in his hands, Tucker groaned, "God you're perfect."

"I'm not." I bit back another moan of pleasure.

"Yes, you are." He dragged his lips along my collarbone. "You should be told that every fucking day."

" Elijah ," I shivered. I hit my peak and Tucker covered my scream with his mouth, holding on to me as my knees buckled. He picked me up and tossed me on his bed.

I tried to block out a lot of that night, but I remembered two things very vividly: he was a little rough with me, something he'd never been. He was completely in control and had nothing to hold back. When I was rough with him, it was out of anger. He never retaliated. But that night, as I lay topless on his bed, my body coming down from a high, I shuddered back to reality when he pulled my underwear off and tugged me to the edge of the bed.

He also really wanted me to enjoy it.

"What are you doing?" I asked breathlessly as he touched me with his tongue.

He looked up over my stomach. "If I only get one night, I'm going to make the best of it."

My head rolled back, and my fingers pressed into my eyes, overcome with pleasure. When he'd brought me over the edge again, I heard the crinkle of foil.

His hands slid along my back, carrying me back to his headboard. He kissed me for a very long time, and I felt his hardness against my leg.

Finally, he said, "This might hurt a little." He brushed my hair back, stared into my eyes, and it seemed difficult for him to say. "If you want me to stop, I will, but give it a minute. It'll feel better, I promise. But if you don't want to -"

I shut him up with a kiss.

This is what I came here for. I closed my eyes through the pain as he eased inside slowly and Tucker caressed my chest, kissing my neck, telling me to relax. As he moved, the pain subsided, like he said it would. His forearms rested beside my head, and he folded on top of me.

"God, Ella." He paused, his eyes stroking me with affection the way his body had done. I arched my back, his eyes pinched shut. "Do that. More of that."

As he pushed into me over and over again, I molded to his body. It was so strange, feeling vulnerable and protected at the same time, knowing that I'd never have this exact experience again. It was perfect, and I sighed, "I'm glad it was you."

Tucker buried his head into my neck and muttered, "I love you."

I didn't want him to joke right then. I didn't want to think of him tossing me bags of candy from across a classroom or as the snickering seventh-grade boy who watched me pull a carnation out of my locker. I wanted the version of him who kissed my knuckles on prom night.

My heart beat against his chest. " Eli !" I held him to me when my body exploded, again, and he stiffed and gasped against my mouth.

We panted together, his arms hugging me to him. He rubbed his cheek against mine, and I felt the strong, tense muscles of his soft back. My bones felt liquid in his bed, overwhelmed by the tingling in my toes and the feeling of absolute relaxation. Tucker didn't pull out when it was finished. Instead, he looked at my face with pain on his. He leaned back. I couldn't usually read his emotions like he always could me, but I knew the expression printed on his woven eyebrows.

It was over.

That was it. Our one time. He popped my cherry.

I went there for him to deflower me, and he did it, now we had to go back to normal.

It wouldn't happen again.

On the drive down, I had imagined just lying in the bed, mostly clothed, closing my eyes and pretending it wasn't happening. Then, I figured I could get up, spend the night in Johnny's dorm, and Tucker and I would never talk about it again. I figured it would be no more intimate than him palming my ass or accidentally touching my boob when we fought over the remote control.

I don't know how I could have thought that. Until Elijah Tucker kissed me on that cruise, I never enjoyed a kiss. Before he put his hand on my bare back, I never felt tingly from someone's touch. No one looked at me like he did.

We stayed snug together for a long time, neither of us wanting to move. He tried to take some weight off of me, pushing up on his elbows, while he ran his fingers down the sides of my face, the top of my lips, the bridge of my nose. Memorizing me with his hands like his eyes had already done.

He looked at the prickly skin on my shoulder. "You're cold," he noticed.

"I'm okay," I said.

Tucker closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Can I kiss you one last time?"

I nodded, wondering if it had to be the last time. I didn't want it to be. He stayed inside of me while his mouth moved, and I thought I could die right then and be perfectly happy. Tucker kept trying to pull me closer, I was wrapped as tightly to him as possible, but his hands pressed further into my back, trying to absorb me. If it hurt, I didn't notice.

I did notice him groan in pain when my arousal grew again.

He pulled from my lips and muttered, to himself probably, "If we do it again, I won't ever be able to stop."

Like a Band-Aid, he peeled from my body, out of me, and climbed off the bed. I saw him for the first time as he walked, naked, to the bathroom. It felt thrilling to see the parts of Elijah Tucker I hadn't before. I pulled his thin sheet over my body and sat up as he returned with boxers on, refusing to look me in the eye.

I didn't know what to do now. I figured I could get my clothes back on and text Johnny. Tucker only had chairs in his living room, so I couldn't stay here.

Soft cotton was thrown at my face. "You can sleep in that," Tucker said.

I held the sheet against my chest. "You don't want me to go?"

"No." He recoiled. "And yes." He picked up my underwear and tossed it to me. "Put those back on."

I touched them. "They're all…wet."

" Jesus Christ ." He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, you have to. You can't sleep next to me and not have something, just please, dear God –"

"Okay!"

He had already seen parts of my body that I'd never seen, but I still covered myself as I pulled his shirt over my head. He looked away anyway. I snaked my cold, wet underwear back on.

Tucker cleared his throat, his back to me. "You should use the bathroom now."

I did what he said. I closed the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror with the light on, wondering if I looked any different.

Would my friends be able to notice that we had sex? I peeled his shirt off and looked at myself the way Tucker saw me.

My sensitive skin tended to redden with any kind of contact, so my stomach and chest were still pink from where he laid on me. A faint handprint remained on my collarbone. I touched it, wanting to remember how warm and strong and safe he felt. I ran my hands over my breasts, where he had touched them with his tongue. I saw my thighs as soft, my lips as kissable, my bones as fragile. I wondered if anyone would ever hold me like I was precious, the way he just did, and tell me I was perfect.

I put the shirt back on and peed. I turned the light off. Tucker lay on top of the covers, one arm under his head, the other hand in a fist. He stared at the ceiling. He didn't look at me when I stood in the doorway, in the dark, listening to him breathing heavily.

I may have just made a mistake and it made me want to cry. I tried to swallow it, saying, "I can go."

"No, you can't," he mumbled.

That either meant I couldn't drive four hours back to Winston-Salem or I couldn't try to sleep at Johnny's because of Serena.

Tears grew in the corner of my eyes. "I'll just sleep in the chairs."

"Ella," Tucker breathed. He sat up and looked at me. "Please come lay down."

I wavered. "I'm sorry if I made everything weird. I'll really be fine out there."

He sighed, standing. "I'm the one who made it weird, not you." He scooped me up in a cradle and tossed me on the bed, just like he had done earlier. He even stared at me, his shirt hiked up to my hipbone, as if he was going to tug on me again and hold my center to his mouth.

"Move over," he said.

I scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.

He laid down beside me. We were shoulder to shoulder, on our backs, both staring up at the ceiling. Our arms were pressed tightly together. I wanted to move my fingers, to grip his hand. I had just felt so wonderful and now I felt confused. I turned my head and watched Tucker's profile, his chest rising and falling.

"Go to sleep," he said.

"Why are you mad?"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are." I went back to looking at the ceiling, pushing down in the lump in my throat. "Do you normally make girls leave after sex? Do you just feel obligated to have me stay because I have nowhere to go?"

He pinched his lips. "You are not…" He started again. "You are not just a girl that I…"

Tucker exhaled and I might have even seen a shine in his eyes that matched mine. He finally said, "You are not a girl." He turned to look at me. "You are the girl."

I asked, "Was that different for you?"

"Yeah. Of course, it was."

"Because we've known each other our whole lives?"

"No, because…" He licked his lips. He turned on his side to face me and his hand brushed the side of my face. He held it there, warm on my skin, and inched closer to kiss me gently on the mouth. When Tucker pulled back, he said, "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad. Can we just go to sleep?"

I nodded. The only thing he said that I understood was, I'm sorry. I had the impression that I wasn't meant to understand the rest. Whatever went through his mind stayed there, just like his hand on my cheek.

The few times I spent the night in Johnny's small dorm bed, I laid on my side facing the wall and he slept on his back, not touching me at all. Now, staring at Tucker, I couldn't fathom falling asleep without his arms around me. Neither did he, apparently.

He rolled onto his back, scooping his left arm under my shoulder blades. He tucked me to him, my head resting on his shoulder, my arm draped across his chest. His fingers moved gently against my back, and I closed my eyes, falling asleep to the sight of him staring, wide-eyed at the ceiling.

When I woke, I was on my side, Tucker spooned behind me. My arm clasped his to my chest, his hand resting on my boob. Our legs were tangled up together, and sunlight peeked in from the window behind us.

"Tucker?" I whispered, turning my head.

He grunted, his eyes were still closed. He moved his nose into my hair, breathing in. He pulled me tighter to him and I felt his hardness between my legs, the events of the night flashing through my mind. His hands, his mouth. My legs moved together, creating some friction, trying to free the ache in my pelvis, when Tucker absently shifted his hips into me.

" Oh fuck ," he said, eyes flying open. He released his hold on me and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

I turned around and sat up.

He groaned and his eyelashes fluttered, a hand reached for my chin. "I forgot how beautiful you are in the morning." His fingers slid up my jawbone and covered my face. He pushed it away gently. "Don't look at me."

I smiled.

He sighed, darting his eyes between mine, and said softly, "You're making it worse." He looked at his baseball shirt, staring at my nipples through the cotton, then blinked rapidly and asked, "Um, are you – are you okay?"

I knew what he was asking. I nodded.

"I need you to say words, Ella."

"Yes," I said. "I'm good."

"Okay."

I glanced at the door. "I smell coffee."

"Ritchie. I'll go get you some." He sat up and stretched. He hinged forward and immediately sank his mouth into the side of my neck. He pulled back, grimacing. "Sorry. Sorry."

As Tucker rolled off the bed and walked to the door, I looked at our clothes on the floor. The condom wrapper beside my boot. The bedroom door was open, so I listened to him and Ritchie talk, and I walked to the bathroom where there was further evidence of our night knotted up in his trashcan.

I'd had sex with Elijah Tucker.

And I really wanted to do it again.

People do things with their friends all the time and it doesn't mean anything romantic. I wondered if we could be like that. Tucker and I, casually having sex. Would he be gentle and adoring every time or would each time be new and exciting? He did things to my body that I didn't know were possible. He knew what he was doing, and I wanted to experience it all.

I steadied my breath and tried not to think about it before walking into the kitchen, afraid that he could tell with one look that I wanted him again.

The oven clock read 10:30. Ritchie leaned against the kitchen counter, showered and sharply dressed.

I'd met Ritchie several times at that point, he had Tucker had become fast friends and he knew Johnny's roommate Wyatt from high school. He knew I went to school several hours away and stayed overnight when I came to visit. He knew Johnny was my best friend, that I'd known Tucker since birth, and he would have no reason to think it strange that I just exited Tucker's room. I was well acquainted with Tucker in nothing but boxers and Ritchie wouldn't bat a lash at me wearing Tucker's shirt or being bra-less.

The first time we met, Tucker told him about me, "If you like girls who are ladylike and proper, you're not going to like this chick." I think I slapped him in the balls then, and he collapsed to the ground and groaned, " See? "

"Hey Ritchie," I said, coming up beside Tucker. He handed me a cup of coffee and a carton of creamer.

Ritchie said slowly, "Hey…Ella."

Tucker scooped peanut butter from a jar on the counter and stuck the spoon in his mouth. He smiled when I pried it out and used it to stir my coffee.

Ritchie's eyes moved between us, quietly watching as Tucker grabbed my butt and moved me, bending down at my legs to get a box of Cheez-Its. Ritchie sipped his coffee quietly when Tucker hooked his arm around my waist and slid me back to his side. He shook the box at me, and I shook my head.

Ritchie coughed into coffee, but it sounded a little like a laugh. I looked up to see a smile on the corner of his mouth. He muttered, "Mystery solved, I guess."

"Huh?" I asked.

Staring into his cup, Ritchie said, "Other girls don't moan ‘ Eli ' when they come."

Tucker's eyes bulged.

My jaw dropped.

My brain said, oh my god oh my god oh my god, but my mouth didn't say a word. I dropped my coffee cup on the counter, it splattered a little, and walked quickly back to Tucker's room. I shut the door behind me, and it opened a second later.

"Oh my god!" I squealed, falling into his desk chair. I was crying before I knew it.

Tucker shut the door and slid on his knees to face me. "Hey." He grabbed my face. "It's fine."

"He knows!" I cried. "And he will tell everyone, and it'll make everything weird, they'll be staring at us!"

"He won't tell anyone, trust me." Tucker wiped his palms on my cheeks, brushing away the tears.

I whined, "This was a mistake." We couldn't do it again.

Tucker flinched. His chin quivered, but he nodded slowly.

I pressed my knuckles to my eyes. If Johnny knew Tucker and I slept together then he wouldn't look at us the same way. Everyone would watch my reaction to Tucker's girlfriends or assume I was just some slut who befriended boys I wanted to have sex with. I crossed a line.

You don't fuck around with friends, Tucker had said, and he was right. We could have kept it just between the two of us, but if Johnny, Serena and Wyatt found out, then the dynamic would fracture. Not to mention our families. Heaven forbid one of my sisters found out. They would inevitably tell my mom who would tell Lori, who would tell Christian, who would say something in front of his sons. My dad wouldn't be able to look at his perfect Elijah the same way. They'd scrutinize everything we did or said.

Tucker said, "It's over, Ella, it's done with. We can't take it back. But we can move on. We'll just pretend like it never happened."

I opened my eyes to his soft, yearning face. His hands were rubbing along the tops of my bare thighs, soothing me. They pushed up under the shirt and he didn't notice, didn't try to move them any higher. He kept his eyes on me