Page 33 of Old Acquaintances

“I mean some people might want it.” He sits on the edge of the bed.

I try to control my breathing. “That is incrediblyrude.”

“You’re still bread, just not to me. I prefer a salty focaccia.”

“I am not stale white bread.”

He blinks.

I grip the pink bikini top in a tight fist. Tucker stares into my eyes. The ripple of meanness exudes from him, steam sizzling off his wide collarbone and confident stance. Deja vu isright. He always knows exactly the perfect, stupid thing to hurt me.

I shouldn’t care if he finds me attractive. I should prefer that he didn’t. I don’t want Johnny or Wyatt, or Callie or Serena to think about my body. I don’t want sexual tension with my friends, but it feels different with Tucker because I’ve already seen the way he looks at me. He never stared at my sisters in their bathing suits. He never eyed Serena that way. Even at the beach, with strange women walking past, ample opportunity to people-watch and ogle, he always looked at me differently.

He’s lying.

Is this part of the game?

I hold his attention when I toss my bathing suit on the bed beside him. If he wants to be mean, I can be mean, too. I can win this bet.

I peel my tank top off.

“Jesus, Ella,” he grits, shutting his eyes.

“What?” I walk up and stand next to him, reaching for my top.

He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling.

I angle my bare chest in his direction. “A boob’s a boob, right? No big deal, just like you said.”

He bites on the inside of his mouth, air shooting out of his nostrils.

I slide my arms into the straps of my bathing suit and clasp it behind my back. “You can look now.”

Tucker leans his head to the side. His eyes drag from mine to my chest and back up again.

“You’re such a bad liar,” I mutter.

As I walk away, he responds, “I love you, too.”

Chapter Twelve

Cruise

We went on a cruise for the summer before my senior year. It was a big enough trip that Gavin, Hattie and Jake were coming along, even though they had already graduated from college. Our parents told us six months earlier, at our annual Moynes-Harrison Christmas Eve dinner, how they were going to book the rooms in a few days.

My mom said, “They have rooms that connect, like hotel rooms, so we thought it might be fun for you kids to stay together. That way you can come and go without bothering us.”

Gavin poured a little more whiskey into his eggnog. He whistled. “Do you think that’s a good idea, Fiona?” He stood behind the couch, behind me, and pointed a finger at Tucker.

“Hey!” I argued.

His brothers all laughed.

Even my dad laughed.

My mom sighed. “We did talk about that.”

Lori said, “That’s why we’re having the conversation between the whole group. So everyone can keep an eye oneveryone.”

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