Page 79 of Old Acquaintances

My head throbs. My mouth is dry and cottony, hurting down in my throat, and I feel sick. When did a night of drinking equal daytime torture?

I open my eyes to find the left side of my body propped up on a wall of pillows. Tucker lays on the other side of them, boxers peeking out his low-slung sweatpants, always so ethereal-looking when he sleeps except for that wide-open mouth. I zone in on a water bottle.

Crawling over Tucker’s bare chest, I snatch it from the bedside table. It hurts to open my eyes. He groans as I press into his stomach. I drink the whole bottle in one motion.

“Ow,” Tucker complains.

I toss the bottle on the ground and roll back to my spot. “You are supposed to be on the couch,” I groan, rubbing my eyes.

“You demanded that I sleep here.”

I consider that. It’s most likely true.

“Well, why is there a brick wall of pillows?”

“I had to make a barrier,” he says. “You kept clawing at my penis.”

“Sure,” I grumble, but he might be right. Small snippets of last night wander back into my conscious mind. I definitely wanted him. “What time is it?” I ask.

He picks up his phone. “10:00.”

“Do you think anyone else is awake?”

“I think everyone is awake. You and I are the only ones who ever sleep this late.” He turns his head. He breathes a laugh. “How does a thirty-year-old hangover feel?”

“Like an anvil dropped on my head.”

My ears ring. My teeth feel rubbery. The comforter is pushed back off his body, tucked up tight to mine. I’m cold, he’s hot.

Some things never change.

Tucker pushes up on his elbows. “You need a banana.”

“You wouldn’t let me have your banana.”

“Potassium, you creep,” he laughs. “For your hangover.” He puts his back against the headboard. A shirt slides over his head. “And drink water with your seven cups of coffee.”

“I need caffeine to put up with you.”

“Well, good thing we’re not talking to each other anymore, right?” He catches my eye. “When does that start?”

I snap, “You’re the one who wants to pretend like we’re friends and everything is fine and that you didn’t grab a handful of ass last night.”

“You liked it.” He blinks. “Hey…what do you think of Jen?”

I stretch my body. “She’s nice. That’s a hell of a ring he gave her.”

“I know.”

I wonder, “Did he tell you that he was going to propose?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he tell you about the orchestra and the cooking lessons and the tandem bike riding?”

He answers, “I think he rides a unicycle, and she sits on his shoulders, but I can’t be sure.” He catches my train of thought. “That bothers you, huh? That he’s doing things with her that don’t feel likehim.”

“No.” I ponder this. “I’m just realizing how honest he and Iactually are with each other.”

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