Page 91 of Old Acquaintances

He pulled from my lips and muttered, to himself probably, “If we do it again, I won’t ever be able to stop.”

Like a Band-Aid, he peeled from my body, out of me, and climbed off the bed. I saw him for the first time as he walked, naked, to the bathroom. It felt thrilling to see the parts of Elijah Tucker I hadn’t before. I pulled his thin sheet over my body and sat up as he returned with boxers on, refusing to look me in the eye.

I didn’t know what to do now. I figured I could get my clothes back on and text Johnny. Tucker only had chairs in his living room, so I couldn’t stay here.

Soft cotton was thrown at my face. “You can sleep in that,” Tucker said.

I held the sheet against my chest. “You don’t want me to go?”

“No.” He recoiled. “And yes.” He picked up my underwear and tossed it to me. “Put those back on.”

I touched them. “They’re all…wet.”

“Jesus Christ.” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, you have to. You can’t sleep next to me and not have something, just please, dear God –”

“Okay!”

He had already seen parts of my body that I’d never seen, but I still covered myself as I pulled his shirt over my head. He looked away anyway. I snaked my cold, wet underwear back on.

Tucker cleared his throat, his back to me. “You should use the bathroom now.”

I did what he said. I closed the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror with the light on, wondering if I looked any different.

Would my friends be able to notice that we had sex? I peeled his shirt off and looked at myself the way Tucker saw me.

My sensitive skin tended to redden with any kind of contact, so my stomach and chest were still pink from where he laid on me. A faint handprint remained on my collarbone. I touched it, wanting to remember how warm and strong and safe he felt. I ran my hands over my breasts, where he had touched them with his tongue. I saw my thighs as soft, my lips as kissable, my bones as fragile. I wondered if anyone would ever hold me like I was precious, the way he just did, and tell me I was perfect.

I put the shirt back on and peed. I turned the light off. Tucker lay on top of the covers, one arm under his head, the other hand in a fist. He stared at the ceiling. He didn’t look at me when I stood in the doorway, in the dark, listening to him breathing heavily.

I may have just made a mistake and it made me want to cry. I tried to swallow it, saying, “I can go.”

“No, you can’t,” he mumbled.

That either meant I couldn’t drive four hours back to Winston-Salem or I couldn’t try to sleep at Johnny’s because of Serena.

Tears grew in the corner of my eyes. “I’ll just sleep in the chairs.”

“Ella,” Tucker breathed. He sat up and looked at me. “Please come lay down.”

I wavered. “I’m sorry if I made everything weird. I’ll really be fine out there.”

He sighed, standing. “I’m the one who made it weird, not you.” He scooped me up in a cradle and tossed me on the bed, just like he had done earlier. He even stared at me, his shirthiked up to my hipbone, as if he was going to tug on me again and hold my center to his mouth.

“Move over,” he said.

I scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.

He laid down beside me. We were shoulder to shoulder, on our backs, both staring up at the ceiling. Our arms were pressed tightly together. I wanted to move my fingers, to grip his hand. I had just felt so wonderful and now I felt confused. I turned my head and watched Tucker’s profile, his chest rising and falling.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” I went back to looking at the ceiling, pushing down in the lump in my throat. “Do you normally make girls leave after sex? Do you just feel obligated to have me stay because I have nowhere to go?”

He pinched his lips. “You are not…” He started again. “You are not just a girl that I…”

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