Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Wedding

Our senior year of college, I didn't go home very often, and the boys didn't come up to see me. I didn't even see Tucker at Christmas because the Harrisons went to Gavin's house that year, the first time we'd not shared a holiday together in my whole life. They wanted to spend it with his new baby. Even our group text - Me, Johnny, Tucker, Serena, Wyatt, Ritchie - only shared a passing message every few weeks.

Everything was changing, soon and fast. We'd all graduate and find jobs and move away, the ideas of which made me feel panicky and scared. I'd never not had Johnny and Tucker and in very specific ways. I could always call Johnny and talk on the phone because he loved that. He grew up with sisters, close to his mother, and he didn't have guy friends who wanted to talk about their feelings like he could with me. He didn't live next door anymore. I couldn't pop over when I was irritated at my sisters and needed a distraction.

My relationship with Tucker was vastly different. We didn't talk on the phone, or even text. I only heard about his life through my mother, via Lori. As the months ticked by, from winter to spring, I became increasingly more agitated. I had my final senior performance, my original choreography to perform, and classes to finish. I had an audition for the Alabama Ballet. The panic of a new life itched me in places I couldn't scratch because I couldn't find them, I didn't know where it prickled or how to ease the nerves.

"What's Tucker up to?" I found myself asking Johnny all the time.

"Oh, he's busy working, you know." Then Johnny would change the subject.

I would ask, "Is Tucker going to graduate in the spring?"

"Nah, I think he has some summer classes." Then Johnny would talk about some superhero movie he wanted to see.

I asked my mom over Easter, "Did Lori say if Tucker has a job lined up?"

She spread icing on a cake. "Um…I don't think so. She said something about him possibly going to Savannah?"

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

"Who does he know in Savannah?"

"I don't know."

"Is he dating anyone?"

"I don't know." She finally paused her movements. "Why don't you ask him all of this?"

I remember feeling hot at the suggestion because the next words out of my mouth were: "I mean, we're not really friends, I was just curious."

I was afraid of the future and our friend group disbanding because it meant losing Tucker. I didn't want to catch up with him on the phone - I needed to be around him.

When my car broke down, he showed up. When I was in a panic, he soothed me. When I needed a date or a favor, he rose to the occasion. I cried myself to sleep and woke up alone, finding him just when I needed comfort. Tucker used to make me feel special, to tell me every day that he thought I was beautiful, and I only found myself appreciating it once it was gone.

I knew I'd see him at the wedding.

Gracie and Steven got married in early June, right after I graduated. They had a wedding in Greenville, in the mountains. I remember asking why it had to be June. Why it had to be outside, in South Carolina, in the heat.

"Do not question my choices!" Gracie laid into me while we all sat around stuffing invitations.

When the rehearsal came around on Friday afternoon, I arrived from Alabama, where I'd just been setting up my new apartment. I walked in casually, in jean shorts and a crop top, to the gravel courtyard where my family stood beside a rectangular fountain.

Gracie huffed, "Great. She's late and she's dressed for the rodeo."

Everyone else looked nice. I lifted my sunglasses and said, "It's eighty-five degrees out."

She whined, "And it's my wedding!"

I rolled my eyes and looked around. "What are we waiting for?"

Steven answered, "We were waiting on you, now we're just waiting on Tucker."

"At least he's dressed appropriately," Gracie said.

I turned around to see him jogging past the building. His hair shined in the sun and his button-down shirt crinkled, his skin glowing and eyes bright. He slowed down when he saw me. He smiled. He might have even stuck his hand to his chest like his breath stopped, but I might have misinterpreted that.

They had all been waiting on him for our siblings' wedding, but he ignored them, walking up to me. It had been months since I'd seen him. Maybe even a year.

"Hey," he breathed. His eyes smiled.

My cheeks pinched. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Hi."

Gracie clapped. "Okay! They're here, let's do this!"

Tucker stared at me. I stared back. I wanted him to hug me or hold my hand, something, but we had never done that. Johnny would have swung an arm around my shoulder. Tucker only picked me up when it was part of our game. The game where he pretended to be in love with me.

Gracie started ordering everyone around, putting the three groomsmen and three bridesmaids together. The event venue's wedding planner stood with her clipboard, arms crossed. She did not appreciate my sister's enthusiasm for control.

"Tucker, you're with Hattie," Gracie instructed.

"No," he said. "I'll walk with Ella."

We stood beside each other.

"No," she argued. "You two look weird together."

"No, we don't," he and I said at the same time.

Gracie groaned, "You're too tall!"

"No, I'm not."

"Then, she's too short."

He scooped me around the waist and hoisted me to his side. My flip-flops fell to the ground and my feet dangled. Tucker challenged, "Then I'll hold her up like a puppet."

Jake sighed, "We know he's going to have his hand on her ass anyway."

"Watch it," I muttered in his ear. "You're going to wake the beast."

" Move ," Gracie snapped, pointing like an angry schoolteacher.

Tucker put me back on the ground and grumbled, walking over to Hattie. She sidled up next to him and walked her fingers up his chest, teasing, "Don't worry Tuck, I'll try to keep my hands to myself."

" Mom !" he called out, brushing her off.

I covered a laugh and stood next to Jake. Gracie's best friend Ashlyn stood with Gavin. We went through the wedding rehearsal, standing directly under the sun. My mom assured us that it would be much cooler at sundown tomorrow, when the actual ceremony would take place.

I tied my hair up in a ponytail and commented, "Bet y'all wished you wore your Daisy Duke's now , don't you?"

Lori, Christian and Steven's mom, Mae, hosted the rehearsal dinner. I'd met Mae a few times throughout the fifteen years that Lori had been married. She drank a little too much wine that night and said to me, "So, when are you Elijah getting married?"

I balked. "He's not my boyfriend."

She seemed very confused. Even a woman I barely knew and met a handful of times thought we were a couple.

The next morning, I went into Gracie's room to have my hair and makeup done. She planned everything with meticulous, authoritative rage, and we had no say in any of it. I was a doll being tampered with. My hair was curled and pulled half up and tied with a ribbon.

Gracie looked at me. "No, I think I want it all the way up."

I sat in the chair, leaning away from the woman putting false eyelashes on me. Hattie argued, "No, her hair looks so pretty like that."

Gracie argued, "Tucker's going to be pulling on it all night. I don't want to look back on all of my wedding pictures and wonder what kind of fetish shit you two do in bed." She glanced at the corner of the room. "Sorry, Lori."

My sister was unhinged. She only relented on the hair thing when my mom reminded her that my dress - that Gracie picked out - showed a lot of upper body skin.

Three of us were wearing matching thin-strapped pastel floral dresses. I sent her my measurements and Gracie had them all picked out and shipped to my mom, lest we do anything to alter or change a thing. In my hotel room, I changed into the dress, shoes and jewelry that she chose and met them all in a room downstairs. The boys were wearing their suits, pinning flowers in. Steven took a sip of beer and looked at me.

He grimaced. "Did Gracie approve that dress?"

"Yes," I answered when they turned to look at me.

Gavin groaned, "Here we go again."

"Flashbacks. Burning flashbacks," Jake snorted.

They looked at Tucker.

My shoulders dropped. I pulled my hair in front of my body, staring at the ground. I should have tried on the dress before, but I didn't have time to get home between graduation and moving, and Gracie was adamant that it would get ruined I had possession of it. When I put it on that day, I wondered why she picked it. It dipped low in the front and pinched tightly around my boobs, offering up a fair bit of cleavage.

I finally looked up, seeing Tucker.

"You look beautiful," he said gently.

But, noting how his brothers looked at me, I knew Gracie wouldn't agree.

"Ella?" my mother called.

I slowly walked into the room next door. Gracie was dressed, Hattie fixing her veil. Hattie looked so pretty in her dress. Contained . Ashlyn handed me flowers, taking a peek at my chest, and Hattie faced me with a smile. Her smile shifted. She looked at my mom who, for once in her life, didn't bat a lash at my attire.

"You look lovely, honey," she simply said.

Gracie turned her head. "Ella, how come your dress slit is so much higher than theirs? And why are you so tan - oh my God ." She saw me properly and I thought she might throw herself at me.

I cringed. "I'm sorry, you picked it!"

"Then you must have sent me the wrong measurements!"

I looked at myself. "I don't think it's that bad."

"That's because you're a slut and this is how you dress!"

Our mother snapped, "Gracie!"

Gracie stomped her foot. "It's my wedding and everyone's going to be staring at her!"

They all tried to calm her down. I turned and walked into the hotel lobby, my breath quickening. I tried fixing myself, pushing my boobs down and stalked off, looking for a bathroom. I found an empty hallway and a hand grabbed my arm.

Tucker eyed me with concern. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed, my nose itchy. "I'm going to ruin my sister's wedding."

"No, you're not."

"Tell her that." I pressed my fingers under my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling into my makeup.

Tucker took my wrist and dragged me to a decorative armchair. He forced me to sit, and he knelt, putting his hands on my knees. "I'm sorry." He shook my legs. "I'm sorry that she said that to you and I'm sorry for all those years that I made you feel like this."

I pulled my hands away.

"No one should ever make you feel bad about yourself." He ran his eyes over my hair and my arms, my dress. "You are so beautiful."

"That's because my boobs are out," I groaned.

"No. You could be wearing a paper bag with your hair on fire, and you'd still be beautiful." His hand moved slightly, giving the impression of him wanting to do or say more.

He had been very careful about touching me after our night together. He still gave me playful pinches and cheeky contact, but I wondered if he ever had to restrain himself, if he wanted to hold me or caress me the way he had. How could someone put their mouth on your most intimate places and call you perfect and not think about it every time you were in the same room?

We acted normal with each other because our friends were always around. Alone in this restroom hallway, my screeching sister nearby, he had the look of wanting to comfort me. His eyes fell on my mouth. I was upset, I had been crying. He might have considered my sister's words - you're a slut - and decided against kissing my cheek or holding my hand since I had once begged him for sex.

No need to add insult to injury.

He said, "We can make her pay."

I laughed and pushed his shoulder. "It's her wedding. She's allowed to be a monster. I don't want to make it worse."

Tucker and I returned to the wedding party. Steven had already gone out, as did Aunt Zoey's three-year-old twins and their baskets of flower petals. Gracie didn't say anything when I returned. I took Jake's arm, as instructed. I clutched my flowers.

The sky was awash in pink and purple. People filled bamboo chairs. A photographer stood in front of the officiant, beside the archway of light pink peonies.

Gavin and Ashlyn walked out first. Before Jake and I could move, Tucker grabbed his step-brother's jacket and pulled him backward. He snatched my arm and dragged me toward the aisle.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Pissing Gracie off." He gave me half a smile.

"It's her wedding and she's a psycho - she's going to trample villages for this!"

"So what?" he scoffed. "It's one day. And she made you cry."

We reached the gravel around the fountain and followed Gavin toward our destination. The background featured layered blue mountains and lush green trees. I stepped forward and my heel sunk into the rocks.

"What is happening?" Tucker asked looking at my feet.

I put my flowers in front of my face and snorted a laugh. I hoped the violin music drowned it out. Gracie thought she left no stone unturned, no detail overlooked, yet there I was, sinking into the gravel in the shoes she picked out. No wonder Ashlyn was walking so slowly. I whispered to Tucker, "I'm struggling here."

"I cannot help you."

" Slow down ."

"You're embarrassing me." His mouth twitched. "We're being photographed, try to look normal. Like you know how to walk, and this is normal for you."

I smiled at the faces around us. Lori took out her phone and snapped a picture of us. I sighed, "At least she'll forget about my boobs being out, since it'll take her two days to get to Steve."

"I won't forget," he murmured in my ear. His eyes dropped to my chest, and I heard the click of a camera.

I gasped. "She's going to kill you!"

"I'll die a happy man." He grinned, releasing me and standing beside Gavin.

Gracie eventually made it to the altar. With both of my parents on her arms, I think they dragged her most of the way. The ceremony was nice, the temperature was perfect. Across from me, I felt Tucker's eyes the whole time.

Maybe he was thinking about our night together. Maybe was staring at my chest. Maybe I was in his eyeline, and he had nowhere else to look, but I didn't care. His gaze warmed me, and his presence felt steadying. I forgot about my worries - new job, new home, new adult life. I didn't feel any panic, for once in a long time.

The guests went inside for drinks while the staff set the tables and chairs outside for dinner. The family went to the grass for pictures. Tucker and I snuck a drink while we walked outside, and we received two stern warnings.

From Gracie: "Do not stand together, it's distracting."

From Hattie, "Tucker, don't let her drink too much, she'll start taking her clothes off and trying to get everyone to go streaking."

He cheered, "No I have two objectives for the night."

After we had our family pictures taken, Gracie said to the group, with the seriousness of a dictator, "Do not do anything embarrassing tonight. They will be photographing everything. Don't do anything you don't want to look back on in ten years."

Jake said, "So your marriage is only gonna last ten years?"

She screamed, "Strike one!"

I entered the reception with Jake, per her demands, and sat in my seat beside Ashlyn, as ordered, and had my cocktail ripped from my hands, via Hattie. When Tucker came to ask me to dance, I replied, "I'm pretty sure that's not allowed."

"I won't gawk at you." He grabbed my hand. "Besides, she can't stop a moving train."

On the dance floor, I saw Gracie mouthing and waving her hands, gesturing for us to separate. The photographers circled. When my parents waltzed by, my dad said to us, "Just keep your hands where Gracie can see them. I need to survive this night without also having to pay for her therapy."

Tucker's arm pressed into my back while we danced. He kept twirling my fingers and staring at our joined hands. Finally, he said, "I've missed you."

My chest hurt, hearing those words and seeing his sober face when he said it. "I missed you too," I responded.

"Why don't we talk?" he muttered.

I sunk into myself. "I don't know. We've just never been friends like that."

"Why not?" he asked. "Why aren't we like you and Johnny?"

Avoiding his eye, my cheeks warm, the hairs prickling on my neck, I tried, "You know why. It's the same reason Gracie doesn't want us photographed together."

He started, "Speaking of…I have an idea." He glanced at the photographer before leaning to give me a soft kiss on the mouth.

I bit my lip. "What was that?"

He cackled, "She's going to be so mad ."

I thought of what our family might have seen, how they could have interpreted that.

Tucker said, "She thinks we're going to be a distraction anyway, we might as well fuck with her, right? What do you think?"

I thought of how much I liked the feel of his lips against mine. Warm from champagne and his body heat, worries about my families assumptions fading away, I agreed, "Okay."

When we walked off to get a drink, he put his hand on my butt, and I heard another camera click. As the night progressed, we continually did things that would embarrass my sister, most of which she didn't see, but all of which the two photographers captured. They waved at each other and pointed to us, like people working a haunted house identifying the easiest kid to scare.

Every photograph of the two of us would be provocative and stupid and there would be a lot of them. Tucker dipped me and kissed my mouth, short and chaste. He ran his hand up my leg. We collected every half-empty drink and placed them at our table to look like we'd single-handedly drunk all the booze my dad paid for. I danced barefoot. He gave me a piggyback ride. He copped a feel and squeezed my butt and Hattie growled, "I told you not to let her drink so much!"

I wasn't drunk at all. I was having too much fun angering my sister and playing with Tucker, pretending that his kisses and touches were just part of the game and I didn't enjoy it at all. I wondered if the photographers were good enough to catch the truth. I know I had enough to drink that my cheeks were pink, and I felt relaxed. I couldn't monitor my expression when he whispered in my ear, "God, you smell good."

At the end of the night, we sat beside each other at the table and his hand went to my neck. He pulled me in for a kiss but deepened it this time. His tongue slipped out and tasted mine. I flinched. He pulled back.

"Sorry…too much?" he worried.

I pressed my lips together. "Did anyone see?"

He searched my face. "I don't know."

Our families were aware that we were messing with Gracie. They knew it was a stupid game, that we were playing, but I didn't want to tip the line and allow them to think it was real.

I inhaled. "I think I'm ready to turn in."

"They haven't left yet." His hand slid off of me.

I stood up. "I know, but I'm tired. If we go now, we won't get stuck having to help clean up."

"We?" He brightened.

I slipped my shoes back on and said, "Sure. We can watch a movie or something."

"Okay." He stood up, frowning a little, some confusion in his brows.

We had spent very little time alone in our twenty-two years together. On the cruise, I was surprised when he asked if I wanted to get breakfast with him on our second day. I was glad, though, because he only asked to get away from our siblings making kissing sounds at us. At first, we didn't say much to each other when we laid by the pool or ate meals. Then, we started talking about our mutual friends and then we were just talking.

I got to know more about his interests in renovating furniture and fixing old things. I told him about ballet, about my dreams for the future. I learned that his favorite drink was Dr. Pepper, his favorite movie was Ghostbusters, and he didn't care much for sweets.

I also learned that he knew everything about me. He got me the drinks I liked and the dessert I wanted. I didn't have to tell him when I was tired or when I wanted to get out of the sun. He'd suggest going to our rooms before I said a word. I didn't have to tell him about my favorite television shows and the names of my friends at ballet. He already knew.

I had fun with him that day he surprised me at my dorm and the day we spent at the ski lodge. I knew I would always have fun with Tucker. We walked quietly back to our hotel rooms. I reached my door and said, "I'm going to change. Give me, like, ten minutes."

I slipped out of my dress, took off my bra, and put on an oversized t-shirt. I planned to sleep in that, I didn't have anything else but jeans and a tank for the car tomorrow. I figured it would be fine, the shirt came down mid-thigh and Tucker was well-acquainted with the sight of my nipples by now. I washed the makeup off my face. He knocked on the door.

Tucker had changed into basketball shorts and a sweatshirt. He held up bags of candy and snacks.

"Did you raid the mini-bar?"

"The room's on Christian's card."

I let him inside and grabbed the remote control. I started scrolling through the cable, and Tucker laid on the bed, his eyes flickering to my legs.

" Center Stage !" I put the remote down and sat down beside him.

He opened a bag of bag of chips. "This movie is oddly sexual."

"When have you seen this?"

"What are you talking about? You made us watch it like three times." He frowned and gestured to the movie. "Why can't they dance at the other place? Are the ballet people afraid they're going to learn how to hip thrust and they're going to lose them all to hip hop?"

"That's not hip hop," I pointed out. "What they're doing right now is called jazz."

"It's called getting it on ." With a mouthful, he said, "I remember what comes next."

I understood, "Oh, so that's why you guys agreed to watch this."

"We were like ten, this was the hottest thing I'd ever seen."

I laughed and laid back on the couch pillows. He handed me a bag of M&M's. Our legs were stretched out parallel with one another.

Tucker added, "At least the friend gets the girl. Vindication."

"Vindication for what?"

He chided, "The friend is the nice guy. The friend should always win."

"She only ends up with the friend because this Cooper guy is an asshole. If Cooper had been a nice guy, then the friend wouldn't have stood a chance."

"Why not? He's hot. He can dance. He's got stuff going for him."

"Um, did you watch this movie for him ?" I look back at the TV. "Charlie never made a move."

He sat up. "What? I'm pretty sure he makes a move."

"I don't think so. But, then again, you're clearly obsessed with this movie, so I might not know what I'm talking about. You seem to be the expert here."

Tucker slid off the bed and walked to my side. "I watched this movie so I could understand your whole ballet girl world." He held his hand out.

I took it, getting to my feet, wondering, "What are you doing?"

"This was the move."

He pulled me to him, and I squealed. He took my right hand and squeezed my opposite hip.

"Tucker!" I awed as he started to move our feet in a box step. In the small hotel room, between the bed and the closed window, he spun me with perfect hand placement, just like in ballet partnering. He twirled me and I exclaimed, "How do you know how to dance like this?"

"Gavin's wedding."

"Why didn't we dance like this tonight?"

"Because -" He looked down at my close face - "I don't want to make you look bad with my superior dance moves."

I grimaced. "You've got me there."

"It took me months to learn to do this with my mother . You're a professional. You'd pick up the salsa in thirty minutes."

My shirt rose under his rough fingertips, and I let him pull me close, surrendering to his lead, unconcerned with the short distance between our flesh. I remember how quiet everything was around us, even with the television and the air conditioner buzzing. I had to tell myself to control the sound of my breath and the noises that I made because I desperately enjoyed having him so close to me.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned toward my face. "See, she had to know the friend was in love with her. It's in the eyes. You can always tell when someone has burning passion in their eyes."

I pushed his face away.

"Like how I can always tell when you're cold." His eyes dragged down my body.

I let go of his hand and sucked in air. "Not always," I shrugged.

Like right now. I wasn't cold whenever his hot hands touched me. I tried to focus on the movie and not on the inches between us, the way he kept glancing at the thin fabric draped over my body.

Tucker moved back to the bed, watching me adjust my shirt. I started, "So, um, what are you doing after you graduate? You have a summer semester left, right?" I climbed back onto the mattress.

"Yeah." He focused on the screen and wiped chip dust off his leg. "I actually think I'm going to move to Savannah."

I pretended that I'd just heard that information. "Oh, how come?"

He lifted a shoulder. "I've kind of been talking to my grandparents."

"What?" I turned my head.

"Yeah, they, uh, reached out to my mom a few months ago."

"Wow."

"I guess they figure she's married to a nice guy now so she's worthy of their attention." He rubbed his face, and I could see the turmoil. "They offered me money. My mom said I should take it."

I knew how hard it had been growing up without a family. The first few years of Tucker's life had been challenging for them, with Lori being so young and her parents completely shutting her out. I tucked my leg in and turned to him. "You should take it. It's the very least they can do."

He scowled. "Is that shitty, though? Shouldn't I write them off completely for being horrible to my mom?"

"Does the money come with strings attached?"

"I don't think so."

"Then take their money and run." I took one of his chips. "Lots of people have to put up with shitty parents and horrible childhoods and they still get an inheritance. That's not really much different than your situation."

He was quiet.

I asked, "What is in Savannah?"

"My grandfather has this really old house. He said I could have it."

"To fix it up?"

"Yeah."

"And then…?"

He tucked his arm behind his head and leaned against the headboard. "Maybe flip it. I like fixing old things. Working on a project. Using my hands." He squeezed my thigh, and I jolted.

"Elijah!"

He moved his hand and snickered.

"Such a boy," I muttered. I sat up and untied the ribbon from my hair.

"I heard you were going to dance with the Alabama Ballet."

I twisted my head. "You were asking about me?"

His soft eyes drew lines over my face. "Always." He sighed. "What happened to San Francisco?"

I forgot he would know about that. Tucker remembered everything about me. He knew my favorite food and my greatest dreams.

I pulled the bobby pins and elastic that kept my hair up for hours. "I'm not good enough," I muttered.

"Did you audition?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I know ." I threw my hands down. "That's one of the top ballet companies in the country. I went there for a summer intensive once and I barely got in. Everyone was so much better than me."

"But if it's your dream, then what's all of this been for?" He reached out and tugged the ends of my hair. "Why go this far and not even try?"

I hadn't thought about it like that. I'd always wanted to dance for the San Francisco Ballet, that was the whole purpose of putting the effort into my ballet training, but somewhere along the way it seemed too lofty a goal. Too far away. I was afraid of trying.

I changed the subject, "Well, what's your big dream?"

He focused on me and muttered, "I'm still working on it."

With everything out of my hair, I scratched my head and tugged on my scalp. Tucker made a dissatisfied noise. "Can you please not make those sexy little moaning sounds."

He gave me a knowing look and I snorted a laugh. "It feels so good to run your hands through your hair when it's been up in a bun or ponytail for so long. It's one of the best feelings in the world."

"It feels better when someone else scratches your head." He slid his hands into my hair and tugged.

My eyes closed, rolling back in my head. " Oh my God ."

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

"It feels so fucking good."

He scratched my head and pulled the roots gently. I was already out of balance, so I fell backward onto the pillows, into Tucker's bent elbow, and he tilted over me with a look of surprise.

"Sorry," he breathed into my face. "I didn't realize you had the core strength of an infant."

I sighed, contented, as his fingers massaged my scalp. Then, he kissed me. His warm, wet lips pressed into mine for a second before he moved off of me.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, sliding his arm from under my head. "Forgot."

Forgot what? That he couldn't kiss me? I wanted to scream, Yes! Yes, you can! But that would be yet another line I would have trampled through.

I touched my mouth. "It's okay," I said, sliding up.

I pulled on my shirt and brushed my hair down and put my back on the pillows. My heart started to beat fast.

Once upon a time, Tucker wanted me. It had been four years since he told me, but I considered that it might not have gone away. I'd have to be blind to not notice he was attracted to me, but I was attracted to him, too. It was…objective, he called it. He was attractive . To anyone. I was a scantily-dressed woman lying with him on a bed. It was easy to get signals crossed.

I heard him scratching his head.

"Don't tell me you have lice again," I said. My voice came out wobbly.

He cleared his throat several times. "All that scratching, you know. It made me itchy."

I moved my hand on the top of his head, pushing his hand out of the way.

"Right there," he moaned. "Don't stop."

"Stop!" I laughed, scratching his head.

He closed his eyes and pointed to the other side of his head.

"You're too tall, my arm doesn't reach."

He snaked his hand under my left butt cheek and slid me across his lap so that I was straddling him. I bit back a sound of surprise. A second one, too, when he put his hands under my bent knees and slid me closer to his body. Tucker kept his eyes closed.

I looked at his beautiful face and wondered what was happening. That was more than a butt grab. More than a brush against my chest. Our bodies were closer than they'd been in years and our hips were aligned.

He was clearly aroused.

I ran both hands through his hair, testing the waters to see if he really just wanted this, a head scratch, and he didn't open his eyes. His expression stayed passive and flat.

I swallowed. He had to have heard the shift in my breathing pattern. I lifted, running my hands down the back of his head, and I felt it. My core rubbed against his. My edge, his edge. I stiffened, feeling the ripple of it through my spine.

When we had sex before, it was for a purpose. It was a one-time thing. Still, I'd never felt anything like it.

I never had a connection that strong, that deep, and I never felt the purest sense of relief like I had with Tucker. I rocked again, looking at his face, wondering if he wanted it. Wondering if he put me in this position to see what I would do.

His face distorted when I did it again.

I put my elbows on his shoulders and did it again. And again. Then, there was a push, something returned.

Tucker licked his lips and opened his eyes. They darted back and forth between mine, questioning. Asking. Begging, it looked like. His hands went to my hips, and they glided along the sides of my bare skin. I stilled my movements, watching him as he watched his hands move under my shirt, along my ribcage. They moved back down and nestled into the sides of my underwear.

He still wasn't sure if he should proceed.

I thought I would die if he didn't.

I picked up his right hand and put it to my left breast, near my beating heart. His palm fell on the cotton. His fingers rubbed my nipple through the shirt. I fought against closing my eyes, the surge of excitement nearly taking over my body, because I wanted to see him. I needed to see his face, to understand how badly he wanted it.

In that moment, I was honest with myself and remembered every fantasy I'd had about being with him like this. For four years, I begged my body to stop remembering how good he made me feel while simultaneously edging myself toward thoughts of it.

He moved his hands to the comforter and sat up. His open mouth landed slowly on my nipple, and I felt the wet heat through the fibers, my head rolling back. I arched into him and whimpered. He pressed back into me and moaned.

Tucker dragged his tongue along my shirt to my neck. He kissed me there. He kissed my jawbone. He took my earlobe in his mouth and his hands grabbed my butt holding me tight to him. I wanted him to kiss me like only he could. On the ski trip he called it one last kiss and I wanted to test the slipperiness of that declaration.

I leaned back and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing our lips together.

His hands wove into my hair. He opened his mouth, drinking me in, holding me tight, before flipping me to my back. He kissed me and lifted my shirt. His hand knotted the fabric as he grabbed my boob, laying kisses along my stomach, a line of them leading to my core. I reached for his hair when his mouth landed on my underwear, my legs sliding, my body curving. His breath hit my heat and then -

"We can't do this."

Tucker peeled himself from my flesh and I felt like cold water had been poured over me. My eyes flew open. He stood, panting on the side of the bed.

He covered his mouth. His eyelids fluttered as he looked at me and his body teetered. "We can't do this," he breathed.

I sat up, curling my legs in. "Why not?"

He palmed his erection and closed his eyes. "We just did it that one time, that was it."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Ella, please." He exhaled and forced his eyes open.

I scooted to the edge of the bed, and he stepped backward as if I was dangerous. "Tucker, it's just sex. It was just sex that first time and it's just sex now." I point to his hand. "You clearly want this."

"No." He ran fingers through his hair. "I don't want just sex with you. Ella, you -" He stopped. "We're operating on different systems here and if I want to salvage anything that I have with you then we have to stop. Now."

I stepped off the bed.

He backed toward the door.

I searched his face to understand what he meant by that. Different systems? We were both adults operating on want . I didn't mistake the way he touched me, the way his body reacted. I said, "Nothing has to change between us. It didn't for the last four years."

I saw his eyes dip to my chest.

I peeled my shirt off and held it in one hand, dangling to the ground. "I know you want me, Eli…you can have me."

He moved his gaze from my breasts to my face, his hand grappling for the door. "I don't want you like this."

After the door shut behind him, I looked back at the chips and candy on the bedspread. There was an indention where our bodies had just been. A dip in the pillow from his body.

A silent, separate breakfast the next morning was the last time I saw Tucker for seven years.