Page 83 of Old Acquaintances

Tit for tat.

I said that to him the night that I -

“Elijah!” I scurry out just as he turns around, flashing me an eyeful of ass, free of tan lines, just like he said it would be.

I dry my hair and five minutes later he comes out, griping a towel on his hip, saying, “I’m done.”

He changes while I brush up my eyebrows and put on sunscreen. I slip earrings in and dig in my toiletry bag. Tucker stands behind me in his loose half-buttoned shirt and pants, his hair wet and slick, jaw sharp, eyes on me.

“That necklace,” he notices.

I clasp it around my neck. “Yeah? I always wear it this time of year.”

“You said I never gave you anything for your birthday.”

“You gave this to me, but Lori picked it out.” I touch the tiny silver charm with my birthdate stamped on it. My sixteenth birthday present. “Didn’t she?”

Tucker could move, but he doesn’t. He stands behind me when he has plenty of room elsewhere to zip his pants and checkhis teeth. “Did Gavin get you anything?”

“No.”

“Did Jake? Steve?” He eyes me through the mirror. “I went to the jewelry store. I told them what to put on it. I paid for it with lawnmowing money. I even fucking wrapped it.”

I face him. “I just assumed…did I even say thank you?”

“I think you said, ‘Thanks Tuck,’ and then gave my mom a hug.”

His knuckles graze my chest, he holds the pendant for a second. While his thumb runs over the numbers, I whisper, “Thank you. Why did you choose my birthday?”

He drops it. “Because it’sourbirthday,” he answers.

Lemon cake, sparkling grape juice, party hats. New Year’s Eve in my house with the television on and everyone shouts, “Happy Birthday Eli and Ella!” instead of wishing Happy New Year. He likes chocolate cake so we used to have two cakes, but he conceded for our thirteenth that he didn’t care. He was happy with whatever I wanted. Every year since I was eighteen, I wondered if he would kiss me at midnight. He never did. I wondered if he wanted to.

Tucker backs up. “Come on, Serena’s calling for us. You’ll probably be too hot in that sweatshirt.”

We climb into the rental car and Tucker takes the keys from Johnny. He says, “I’m not drinking, so I’ll drive.” Serena puts the directions on her phone and sits passenger.

Tucker calls out, “Someone cage Ella in the back so she doesn’t do something to distract me while I’m driving.”

Moving behind the driver’s seat, I lick my pinky finger and stick it in his ear. “Like this?” He flinches and I move into the far back with Wyatt and Callie.

Wyatt sighs. “Ilovehaving a designated driver. Dude, are you sure you don’t want to come up to Charlotte with us, drive usaround? I pay a crap ton in Ubers.”

“I live in a city with open container laws,” Tucker answers. “You’re free to come to me, man.”

Jen asks, “You don’t drink alcohol at all when you go out?”

“Not if I’m driving,” Tucker answers.

“Oh, because Ella was hit by a drunk driver?”

He meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s just not responsible.”

As he drives off, I whisper to Callie, “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Won’t have a drop. Not even one light beer.”

Serena guides Tucker to a restaurant for lunch, where we sit on a deck outside, right by the water. It’s a beautiful day, the overhead fans spin, and Tucker heads to the bathroom while we’re seated. I tell the waitress, “He’ll have a Dr. Pepper.”

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