Page 37 of Old Acquaintances

I scoffed, “You don’t even know him!”

“He clearly can’t respect bro code.” He marched up to stand beside me. “He shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Why not?” I dabbed highlighter on my cheekbones.

“Because ofme.”

I pulled a face. “He probably thinks you’re my brother or my cousin.”

“Why would he think that?”

I gestured to the people around us. “We’re on a family vacation.”

Tucker’s leg bounced and he breathed out of his nose, frustrated. His t-shirt heaved. He ignored Gracie’s demands that he move out of the way - he stood in front of the television - and ground his teeth back and forth, watching me. Finally, he blurted, “That’s what all this is about? Some guy? You never wear makeup.”

“Yes, I do.” I leaned forward, swiping mascara on my left eyelashes.

After a beat, Tucker grabbed my arm and pried the wand out of my hand.

“Elijah!” I screamed.

He grabbed my makeup bag and jumped backward. “If thisguy likes you, he should want you without all ofthat.”

“Give it back!” I swiped at him, but he held the bag high over his head, well out of my reach. I climbed on the couch, and he leaned back, a smirk growing on his face, while our step-brother and sister groaned and protested. I threw my arm around his neck and propelled myself onto his body.

He laughed in surprise, holding me to him, as I reached for my bag. I pushed him off and hopped to the ground. Tucker’s eyes gleamed, his hand reached for the balcony door.

“Don’t you dare!” I screamed, throwing myself onto his back, knowing he would attempt to throw my stuff overboard. I hooked my arm around his throat.

He reached back and gripped my leg. “You’re choking me,” he struggled. He pinched his hand under my butt, trying to push me off.

I squirmed. “Get your hand off of my vagina!”

Gavin called out, “That’s one of theuh-ohphrases Lori told us to listen for.”

I stretched, grabbing my makeup bag, and my head hit the ceiling. I inhaled, grabbing my head.

“Oh, shit,” Tucker muttered. “Are you okay?”

I moved my other hand to his shoulder, and he released his hold, sliding me off his back to the couch. Tucker’s hand moved through my hair, and he leaned over me, repeating, “Are you okay?”

I pushed his hand away and lifted my knee to his groin.

He groaned in pain, falling into the couch beside me. “Dammit, Ella.”

On the way to dinner, I gingerly touched the spot on my head and my mom asked what happened. “Nothing,” I replied.

Tucker kept coming up beside me, and I would stop walking and dart around him. At the table, Hattie made a motion to sitbeside me, but he edged her out of the way. I figured he was trying to make up for before, to apologize, but he never said a word. He moved his water glass to the left side of his plate, next to my glass. He inched his chair closer to my chair. He took off his jacket and slung it on the back of my seat.

Throughout dinner, whenever I reached for my drink, he reached for his, forcing our hands to touch. He would relax with his arm draped on my chair. I smacked his hand away when he twirled a lock of my hair and played with the strap of my dress. Whenever he tried to tell me something stupid and inconsequential, he did it close to my face, whispering in my ear.

“Your breath smells like garlic,” he muttered.

“Your breath smells likeass,” I hissed into his mouth.

When I ate my dessert, he kept trying to hold my hand, all the while keeping his eyes on the table ahead of us. The young guy I’d been eye-flirting with locked eyes with Tucker and frowned at the fingers threading through my hair. He turned his attention back to his family.

I fumed to Tucker, “I know what you’re doing.”

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