Page 71 of Old Acquaintances

Confused, Tucker pulled into a small shopping center parking lot. I looked into the dark windows of the art studio I took classes at in elementary school. I jumped out of the car, prying at my cold, wet dress.

Tucker came around to the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”

I nearly tripped on the curb, hysterical and clawing at the straps of the dress. I couldn’t get it off, but I needed itoff. I needed to be able to breathe and I needed to not feel the burn of what had just happened. I reached for the bottom of my dress.

“Ella,” Tucker hissed, coming over to hold my arms down. “We are in public!”

I swatted his hands away. “I don’t care!”

I peeled the dress over my head and let it fall into a damp heap on the sidewalk. I sucked in air, mindlessly thankful that I let Hattie talk me into the wearing the bra.

Tucker grabbed my bicep and demanded, “Get in the car.” He didn’t let up when I tried to push him away. His hands dug into my skin. I fell into the seat, and he shut the door before scooping up my dress.

“Good God, Ella,” he groaned, coming back into the driver’s seat. He threw his jacket at me. “Put that on!”

“Everything is ruined,” I cried into my hands.

“Because some bitchy girls poured soda on your head?” He gripped my knee. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

I said, “You lied to me, didn’t you? About Angel?”

He didn’t move his hand, but he did move his gaze. He stared at my shoes.

“You broke up with her the night before prom. What a dick!”

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” he said slowly. “But I wanted - you needed -”

Someone knocked on Tucker’s window. The light of a flashlight landed on my bare leg, where he was holding it, and a police officer said, “Roll the window down.”

Tucker groaned, “Fuck.”

It didn’t occur to me then why the officer would have come to the door. I knew I shouldn’t be stripping my clothes off in public, but I didn’t think we’d caused any real offense or done anything wrong. Tucker knew immediately what the officerwould think was happening.

We were in a parked car after prom. I was half-naked and crying. He had his hand on my leg.

He rolled the window down. The police officer made his assumptions, asked his questions, and asked me if I was okay. When he was unsatisfied with the answers, he said, “I’m going to have you both step out of the vehicle.”

I put on Tucker’s jacket and held it closed in front of my body. I was instructed to sit on the curb while the officer interrogated Tucker beside the car.

“How old are you?” he asked him.

Tucker replied, “Eighteen.”

The officer didn’t buy that for a second - everyone assumed Tucker to be older - so he demanded to see our driver’s licenses. He got mine from my clutch in the car and Tucker pulled his from his back pocket. The officer put them side by side and commented, “You have the same birthday.”

“Yes,” I said.

He raised a brow. “You’re not…”

“No! Oh my god!” My head fell into my knees. One more humiliation to add to the night: he thought my twin brother was forcing himself onto me.

“Moynes,” he said, reading my license. “Are you Hal Moynes daughter?”

I nodded.

“We play golf together,” he explained. “What’s he going to think about what’s happening here?”

I lifted my head. “He’s not going to have a whole lot of questions.”

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