Chapter Eight

Beach

The summer after sophomore year, our parents rented a huge house in Hilton Head. It had big open windows, a game room and a movie theater. We could walk to the beach and bike to get ice cream. They specifically planned the week around my ballet intensives and Tucker's baseball camp. Hattie and Tucker's oldest stepbrother, Gavin, weren't supposed to make it due to summer classes, but they decided to come for a few days. They both ended up at College of Charleston, so they drove up together.

"That changes sleeping arrangements a little bit," my mother said when we got to the house. She explained what she and Lori decided over the phone.

"Steve and Jake can sleep in the room with the bunk beds. Gavin might have to couch surf in the movie room. Gracie and Hattie take one of the rooms with the queen beds. Eli and Ella can sleep in the room with the twin beds."

I remember standing in the living room of this giant house, holding my quilted duffle bag, looking sideways at Tucker. He was equally uncomfortable with the assignment.

"I'm not sharing a room with him ," I argued.

Gracie groaned, "Here we go," and walked off.

I continued, "That's inappropriate."

Tucker jumped in, "There's very little appropriate about you. I'm surprised you know any different."

"Shut up," I snapped back. "I'm not sharing a room with him. He's a slob!"

"Then you can sleep on a couch or on the floor," my mother explained.

" He can sleep on the couch or the floor!"

Tucker cocked his head back. "You're the one with the problem here, Beautiful, not me."

Lori came up beside me and brushed my hair back over my shoulder. "You're not sharing a bed, honey. Just a room. Eli's a gentleman. He won't bother you or be disrespectful."

Tucker asked, "What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

My jaw dropped. "I didn't think you were going to do anything to me, but I sure as hell do now!"

"Ella, language," my mom tried.

She always at least tried.

Tucker picked up his bag and walked down the hallway. "Whatever, I'm going to the beach."

As he brushed past me, I remember thinking about our sex education class and what would be different about his sixteen-year-old body when he woke up in the morning. If I would be able to see it from my twin bed. I was mortified before it even happened. Lori was a teen mother. How could she be okay with this?

Within a half hour, the boys and my sisters had gone down to the beach while I stewed. I looked at the two little beds. I imagined him next to me. I knew he slept with his mouth open, he fell asleep on Johnny's couch all the time, not to mention in Geometry, where he sat beside me, and I stuck erasers on his tongue.

We had two different lives, he and I. The one where we barely interacted at school, semi-interacted around our best friend, and reluctantly paired off around our families. We didn't talk to each other on purpose. We didn't have much in common. But, because of our age and familiarity, we always ended up being cast as a little duo, something we occasionally indulged in.

Going for hikes in Yellowstone. Watching a movie on Christmas Eve. Trading candy on Easter.

Of course my mother would put us two in this room together. We're Ella and Eli. Eli and Ella.

I changed into my bathing suit in the hallway bathroom. I'd just gotten a bunch from the mall the weekend before, and I really liked this tie-dye one. While our dads were dragging chairs and umbrellas down to the beach, our moms filled up coolers with drinks, and when I passed them in the kitchen, Lori called out, "That's a pretty bikini, Ells."

I adjusted the band under my boobs. "Thanks."

As I walked to the sliding back door, I heard my mom say, "See what I mean?"

Lori replied, " Jesus , Eli's going to lose his mind. We should take that bedroom door off its hinges." They snorted a laugh and turned on the blender and I stood, frozen, on the back deck.

I looked down at my chest. I tried to convince myself they weren't talking about me, but I remembered the rash guard my mom threw in my bag, saying something about sun protection. Gracie had said, "She just wants you to cover up your knockers in front of the boys."

I'd been swimming in the ocean and the pool with these boys most of my life. I didn't think they cared. They were like brothers to me. The idea of any one of them studying my body never registered in my brain.

I stepped barefoot through the sand toward a canopy being set up and put my towel on the back of a beach chair.

Gavin called out, "Ella, come play!" They were playing volleyball, my sisters and Steve against the other boys. "You can be on our team."

Tucker argued. "No, she sucks at volleyball. She can go over there."

I turned around and marched over to him. "Screw you."

Tucker was frozen, his eyes glued on my bikini top. " Fuck ," he said loudly.

Christian Harrison yelled back, "Elijah!"

Everyone looked at Tucker to see what was wrong, but all he did was continue to stare at me. Really stare at me. There was no mistaking what drew his attention. Everyone else began to stare at me. My cheeks flamed, my arms crossed over my body, and I felt like running back inside. Then, I remembered what little satisfaction I liked Tucker to have.

"Stop looking at me," I hissed.

The tips of his ears turned red. "I'm sorry, it's just…can you put a shirt on?"

Jake turned around and laughed, "Oh man."

"No!" I shouted. "We're at the beach, dumbass!"

"This is what I meant about you not being appropriate." Tucker gestured to my body.

My jaw dropped. "What is inappropriate about my body?"

He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "It's distracting."

"That's a you problem," I huffed.

"It's an everybody problem right now." He looked around the group for support, but Gracie and Hattie were bored with the conversation, and his brothers had their faces in their hands.

I pointed to his bare chest. "Why don't you put a shirt on?"

"Because I don't have to." He threw his hands up as if that made sense. Of course, he shouldn't have to put a shirt on even though some girl might find his tan, muscular, tall body distracting, whereas I should be made to cover up my tempting form.

The audacity.

He continued, "You can't play volleyball like that."

"Why not?" I placed my hands on my hips, on purpose, because it added to his discomfort.

He eased his chin up, eyes out on the sand. He bounced a little for dramatic effect. "I think it's self-explanatory."

Gavin called out, "Hey Dad, can you get Tucker a shovel for this hole he's digging himself into?"

I walked up to Tucker's chest and lifted my head to him. "Fuck you," I gritted.

He winced. "Are you going to hit me with them?"

My throat started to clog. I felt the tears trying to form and I blinked them away, choosing to focus on my rage. This was the love notes all over again. If he hadn't said anything, then no one would be looking at my body and now everyone was looking at my body, ruining our vacation that just started.

I didn't back down when I got embarrassed. It would have been better if I ran off crying, then he would be the one in the wrong and I'd get the eventual apology, but I never took that route. I always attacked him, physically or verbally, and the offense became all mine. I got in trouble for not being appropriate or ladylike or ‘using my words.'

It made me angrier.

I screamed, "I'm going to kill you!" I pushed him hard, and he stumbled backward. I pushed him again and his feet tripped, moving toward the water, but he remained upright.

"Cut it out!" Tucker yelled. "Can I get some help here?"

Gavin said, "Ella, I don't think this is working for you. He's just going to end up enjoying it."

Tucker put a hand out to stop me when I came at him again, but it landed on my left boob. He pushed, he squeezed - involuntarily - but I elbowed his arm away and lifted my knee. It landed in his groin.

" Oh !" The boys collectively shouted.

Tucker fell to his knees at the water's edge. He grabbed his crotch, gasping, " Shit . What is wrong with you?"

He could tell I was not done with my assault. My long braid whipped around my shoulders. His eyes went wide, and he tried to stand up, falling on his butt in the shallow water.

I dove at his throat. He tried swim to backward. I clawed at him, throwing myself on his body, pushing him into the ocean. He was stronger and larger than me, but I had no boundaries and turned a little feral when I was enraged.

"She's trying to bite me!" he screamed when I shoved his head under.

The most Tucker could do was try to swim away and hold me back, but those pesky boobs kept getting in the way. With only scraps of fabric on my body, he didn't have a safe place to touch me.

Finally, someone pulled me out of the water.

"Hattie, come get her!" my dad instructed, holding my hands behind my back. "Ella, go inside."

Hattie met me at the shoreline with a towel. I turned around to Tucker and that's when the tears started to flow.

"I hate you!" I screamed.

I took a shower and refused to come out of my room. I had let him win. I had turned savage, like a child raised in the woods, and had to get yet another reprimand for my behavior. I felt stupid and childish. I was mad at him and mad at me.

I was laying in my twin bed, in the dark, when someone knocked on the door.

"Go away," I grumbled.

Tucker said, "I'm going to open the door."

"Do it and you die."

"Too late." He came inside, a stream of light falling on my face. He flipped on the overhead light and closed the door.

"Come for your revenge?" I growled. "Are you locking me in here to murder me?"

"When your body's finally developed? Why murder you now?"

My jaw dropped, and we stared at each other for a moment.

He covered his face. "Sorry. Sorry . That's not what I came in here to say. I came in here to explain." Tucker sat on his bed, the one two feet from mine. His hand gripped his mattress. I lay on my side, facing him.

He scratched the back of his head. "Look, I'm going tell you something and I don't ever want to talk about it again, okay?"

"What?" I said into my pillow.

He sighed. "Last year, in gym, Jamie Walker said you were hot. And then Kyle Huberman agreed. And then Ryan Rice agreed. Everyone agreed."

I frowned. "We were in the same gym class."

"Yeah, this was the conversation pre-class. In the locker room." He gagged. "I hated that they were sexualizing you. It was gross."

"I am not gross."

"No, you're not. But hearing other guys talk about you like that is . For me." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, you came out in your shorts that day and…I got it. I knew what they were talking about."

I pushed off the bed and pressed into my flat hand, thinking first about how Ryan Rice thinks I'm hot, then understanding what Tucker was saying. I realized that I was just wearing a sports bra and underwear because I didn't think he'd come into the room, but Tucker kept his eyes on my face.

I asked, "Are you saying you think I'm hot ?"

He paused before exhaling, long and slow, like it pained him. "It's more of an objective thing that everyone knows to be true, I just found out about it recently."

I wasn't sure if that qualified as a yes or a no.

"Today I was reminded of it," he went on. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made a big deal about it. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You're right, you don't have to cover up because it makes me feel weird."

We sat on our beds, with the door closed. I considered the dozens of times he, Johnny and I sat in my bedroom or Johnny's, with the door shut. Everything felt different in that moment.

Senior girls flirted with Elijah Tucker. In my locker room, he was the boy all the girls talked about. It didn't bother me. I thought it was because I didn't see him that way, but he was visibly handsome, borderline beautiful, and I couldn't deny it. When those girls gushed over him, though, I thought: you don't know him. I know him. I have him. No matter what, we have this shared past, this common family.

Right then, I thought to myself, I'm glad Johnny's not here. He wouldn't like this conversation. He didn't like when Tucker highlighted the fact that I was a girl.

I also liked knowing that Tucker thought I was hot, and I hated myself for it.

I understood his dilemma.

"Just so you know," he started, "No one else is looking at your – at the – you . At you. No one else is looking at your body." He winced. "You don't have to feel weird around them. It's just me. And I'll get used to it."

Inconsequently, I commented, "I don't have any better bathing suits."

"What?"

"I just have two pieces."

He inhaled sharply. "Like I said, I'll get used to it. I'll, uh, keep my eyes up."

I bit my lip, watching him stare at his hands. I wondered if he only thought I was hot because of my body, something other girls had too. I wanted him to think about more than that.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" I asked.

He lifted his brows and groaned, "Can we not do this?"

"It's just a question. You can be honest."

" Yes ." He tilted his head. "You know I think you're gorgeous. I tell you that all the time."

"Yeah, but it's a joke."

"That's not part of the joke." Tucker stood up. "Come out and get a burger. We're going to play games on the deck."

He held his hand out to me.

We weren't hand-holding people. I didn't need help getting off a boat or out of a ditch. Still, I put my hand in his. I stood up, realizing that I didn't have pants on, and grabbed the comforter before it slid completely off my lap. "I-I'm going to put clothes on first," I stammered.

His cheeks blushed. "Yep, yep, you do that." He dropped my hand and walked out of the room. I walked over to my duffle bag and took out a tank top and sweatpants. I pulled my bra off just as I heard the door open again.

"Hey Ella," Tucker started. He froze.

I stood there, topless, staring at him, and he stood at the open door, staring at my boobs. I don't know how many times I had to say his name before he finally snapped to attention.

" Eli !" I whispered.

He shuddered. "Oh God. I'm sorry." He shut the door. On the other side, he repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I didn't have any choice after that moment. I couldn't avoid him. At the very least, I knew Tucker would never bring it up again. So, I changed my clothes and left the room. Tucker kept his distance, he didn't look at me, and we only exchanged pleasant conversation when we were forced to.

Before everyone turned in that night, the most horrible thing happened. I think it was quite possibly the worst experience of the entire day.

Our parents sat us down and gave us a speech about abstinence and teenage pregnancy. They insisted that we sleep with the door open, that we would not be allowed alone in a room together ever again. They even complained that we were sitting too close on the couch, in the positions they placed us in. At one point Tucker said, "You do realize that we're not the ones who asked to sleep in the same room, right?"

That first night, with our door wide open and a bright streetlight shining through the hallway window, we lay on our separate beds, arms distance from one another. Tucker announced into the dark, "This was the weirdest day."

I clasped a hand over my mouth and laughed.

His pillowcase ruffled, he was looking at me, and he laughed back. When he stopped laughing, he said in his sing-songy way, " I love you, Ella ."

I smiled, thinking about the game we played and how this was part of the joke, but him finding me beautiful wasn't.