Page 28 of Old Acquaintances

I bit his pointer finger.

“Ow!” He shook it out.

“I don’t cry all the time,” I fought.

“Fine,” he repeated, his eyes tight, his finger between his lips as if I’d actually wounded him.

My visible breath wafted toward the full moon. His attempts to cheer me up didn’t work.

“You should go back inside,” I said with a small, quiet voice. “It’s almost your birthday.”

He checked his phone. “Thirty seconds.”

“Tiffany is probably looking for you.”

“I’ll let her.” I felt his hand on the ends of my hair. “You could give me my birthday kiss instead.”

I cast him an exasperated look, expecting to see a cheeky smile, but felt confronted instead by his serious, focused eyes. I balked, smacking his hand away. “Elijah.”

He blinked rapidly and groaned, “It was a joke, Jesus.”

Inside the house, a countdown began. I tightened my dad’s coat in front of my body. Tucker remained at my side. I whispered, “Five, four, three, two, one.” Our friends screamed, people down the street banged pots together and our parents’ rowdy party next door erupted into shouts I could hear through closed windows.

I muttered, “Happy Birthday, Eli.”

He swiped a tear from my cheek. “Happy New Year, Ella.”

When I went to return inside the house, Tucker snatched my hand, pulling me back to the deck railing. He explained, “We’re waiting until 12:02.”

His phone lay face up on the wood. I watched the numbers move to 12:01 and then felt his hand slide, cupping my palm in his, wrapping his fingers around mine.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Through the darkness, I observed his large hand covering my small one. His tan skin. My pink painted nails.

Tucker winked. “Because you won’t let me kiss you

Chapter Eleven

Today

Our friends stand in the living room with balloons, banging pots and pans with wooden spoons. Two silver and gold banners -Happy BirthdayandHappy New Year- hang against the wood-paneled walls. Serena has already lit scented candles around the room.

She rushes toward me, holding out a glass of champagne. “Happy thirtieth, girl!” She pulls me into a hug. “Welcome to the club!”

I touch the colorful wrapped thread in her wild white-blonde hair and grumble, “Don’t be mean. I’m still twenty-nine.”

She runs her elaborately decorated nails against one another, and the rhinestones make zippy sounds. The wide sleeves of her sheer floral kimono sink into her elbows.

“Okay, honey,” she says condescendingly. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Tucker interrupts, “I’m cool with being thirty.” He dips his eyes to me. “But then again men age better than women. I’m only going to get more attractive. Get ready, ladies.”

I snap, “The only thing you’re going to attract is a venereal disease.”

He smirks, kissing Serena on the cheek and takes the glass of champagne.

“That was for Ella,” she starts.

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