Page 64 of Old Acquaintances

Johnny waves his hand. “Babe, it was like…eighteen years ago. I forgot about it completely until right now.”

Serena sits up. “Oh!” She claps her hands. “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

“Yay!” Callie cheers and “No,” Wyatt groans.

Ritchie shakes his bottle and finishes the last drop. “Here. I’m game.”

Johnny laughs, “When did we go back in time and become twelve years old? This is ridiculous.”

“Hidden secrets are like time machines,” Tucker grits.

Jen is visually uncomfortable. As am I, with Tucker still standing in front of me, staring.

I demand, “Sit down.”

“Any more secrets you’d like to spill?” he seethes.

I know what he’s asking, and it’s ridiculous. The fact that he thinks Johnny and I have done more than share a chaste one-second kiss as preteens makes me sick. Especially considering the heavy secrets Tucker and I have kept hidden from our bestfriend.

“No,” I say quietly, pointedly.

He searches my face.

“I’ll go first,” Serena says, spinning the beer bottle on the table. It lands on Ritchie, and she claps. They lean across the table and kiss.

Tucker finally sits back on the ground when Ritchie takes his turn. The neck of the bottle points to me.

Callie announces, “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you two to get it on.”

Ritchie smiles wide, his straight, white teeth coming toward me. I’m aware of the eyes on the right side of my face. I shift forward, pressing my hands on the table, and meet Ritchie’s mouth. His lips are salty from the beer, and I’m hit with surprise when he opens his mouth and the tiniest bit of tongue sneaks out to touch mine.

I sit back in my seat. My lips rub together.

“All right hot stuff, your turn,” Ritchie instructs.

I give the bottle a light spin. Eight of us surround the table. The odds are low that I’ll be expected to kiss the one person I shouldn’t. Which, of course, means that I do. The bottle stops, pointed at the lounging man on my right. I can’t look at him.

“Go ahead, Ella,” Wyatt says. “Give Tuck a kiss.”

I swallow.

The panic starts to rise, but I fight to push it down. I focus on the table and stammer, “I can’t - I’m not gonna - I can’t kiss him.”

Wyatt throws his head back and his pink hair flies in the air. “He just had his hands all over you and you can’t give him a little peck?”

My insides feel like a shaken soda bottle, bubbly and combustible. I’m afraid to kiss him. I’m afraid of how my body will react, how badly I’ll want it, if I’ll be able to move forwardwith the week after having tasted him. Kissing Tucker felt like drinking from the most delicious well. Like I’d been starved and could finally feast. If I kiss him, I might show my cards to the table. Everyone would finally see what we’ve done with each other, and I wouldn’t be able to get control back.

Seven years. For seven years he didn’t call me or check on me. This person is not the boy who kissed me once, twice, I’m not sure, I’ve lost count. That boy wanted me more than sunshine and this man couldn’t be bothered to pick up his phone.

“You can have the bed,” Tucker says, his voice heady. “Kiss me and you can have the bed.”

I force myself to meet his eyes.

I hope my friends don’t see it. I see it on him, the mirror of my feelings, and his eyes flutter, begging. He mutters, “I dare you.”

I inhale and pinch forward, tightening my lips. He watches me come toward him. My hands stay on the couch. His eyes stare at my mouth. In a quick second, I barely touch my lips to his before snapping back.

“Boo!” Callie shouts.

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