Chapter 23
Tucker
I watched the movie by myself at Gram’s before I introduced it to Ava. When I was sure that it was a good idea, I planned a whole evening around it. We made some Hawaiian dishes and blended fruity drinks, the virgin version, because alcohol didn’t play nice with Ava’s medication.
She giggled at the little umbrellas that I tucked in each glass. We sat down to watch the movie together.
I’m sure she didn’t laugh as much as the average person. She kept leaning forward and watching Drew Barrymore’s face. Every once in a while, she made a comment like, “That guy sure is determined to make her like him as much as she did the first time.”
And later, “That’s funny about how they have their first kiss over and over again.”
I caught some side-eye with that one, as if she was just now realizing how many first kisses she and I had already had.
As the credits rolled, we sat in the half-dark of the screen, curled up together.
Eventually, she said, “Do I kiss the same as I did the other times?”
That was quite a question. “I’m usually too stressed out about it to notice.”
She turned to me. “Really? Why?”
“Well, the first time, we were in front of your mother and hospital staff. You grabbed my face and snogged me.”
“Snogged?”
“It’s a British word for kissing.”
“I don’t like it. It sounds like a combination of snot and fog, and both are not good to think about when kissing.”
I laughed. “You’re right.”
“What about the second one?”
“That one was on a Ferris wheel at a carnival.”
“Oh, I saw the tickets in the scrapbook. Was it hard to get me to kiss you that time?”
“Terribly. You wanted nothing to do with me after you ran away from your mother’s house.”
“Yeah, that part of the scrapbook is hard to read.”
“That’s why I added sticky notes. It’s important to understand that her part of your life is over.”
“I didn’t have anybody, then.”
“You did, but you didn’t want us. Other than Harry.”
“What about the third time?”
“That was one of the easier ones. You were willing to watch the videos. It was only a few days after the reset.”
“Oh. That’s fast.” She looked down at her lap. “I guess we’ve done all the other stuff. The sleeping in the bed stuff.”
So, she was figuring things out. I figured Cosmopolitan would fill in anything she hadn’t picked up from TV shows. “We did. There’s a lot to it if you haven’t looked it up.”
“Oh, I’ve been on the internet,” she said. “You can’t Google much of anything without encountering naked people.”
I choked on my laugh. “You can use a safe search.”
“Oh no, it’s very interesting. I had no idea boobs were so many different sizes.”
I coughed into my hand. “Um, yeah. Male parts, too.”
“Really?” Her head pops up. “Is that why people keep saying ‘size matters’ all the time?”
“Yeah.”
“What does it matter for?”
Sex ed. Not my strength. “Um, some women like men to have bigger parts. They think it is important to like what men do with it.”
I winced at my awkwardness. Maybe one of these days I’d rehearse the right ways to manage these conversations. I’d loved Ava since I was seventeen, and we had been together hundreds of times. But this was a new Ava. I had to treat her carefully.
“I should probably write these things down so that next time this happens, I know what I like,” she said.
“You might have already,” I said. “I only know the things that are in your book. But you may have notes I haven’t seen.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve been through this house pretty thoroughly.”
“Well, I know what you like,” I said. “I’ve memorized every part of you.”
Her blue eyes searched mine. I remembered the first time she looked up in the hospital room and I saw that startling color. It broke my heart that our history was erased for her. All those intimate acts. Those nights and days and words. Lost to her.
At least I still had them. And we’d documented what we could.
She sat up. “We could video ourselves doing it. Then I’d know next time what we’ve done.”
I choked again. “That might not be advisable.”
“Why? I have the camera.”
“Things like that can get out, be seen by other people.”
Her mouth made an O, her eyes wide. “Then I guess pictures are a bad idea, too.”
“Probably.”
“People do that, though, right? I mean, it’s all over the internet.”
“Totally. Some people make their living selling videos and pictures of, uh, you know, that.”
Her eyes got big again. “Really? They get money for it?”
“They do.”
She sat back against the cushions. “Huh!”
“I’m not sure it would be a good lifestyle fit for us,” I said carefully.
She nodded. “I get it. Future Ava might not like that past Ava flashed her cootchie all over the internet.”
She was picking up slang. It was funny to hear it coming from her. She settled back against me. “So, what do I like?” she asked, her voice whisper-quiet.
I knew what she was asking. “It shifts according to your mood,” I say, “but after a romantic movie, you like to kiss Hollywood style.”
“How is that different?”
“You want me to describe it, or show you?”
“Show me, I think.”
She squished her eyes closed and leaned forward.
I had to smile. She looked like she was expecting a tetanus shot. Instead of kissing her right away, I touched her hair, gently tucking a strand behind her ear. I ran my thumb along her cheek and down her jaw, then cupped her face.
I waited until her shoulders relaxed, and her features were no longer in this pained expression. Then, and only then, did I actually lean forward and softly press my lips to hers.
We’d been kissing for weeks, but they had been gentle and easy, like middle school kisses.
Now, I gripped her chin more firmly. I slid my tongue against her lips, teasing them open.
She parted, our mouths fully engaged, and I drew her tightly against me. My fingers slid through her loose hair to hold the back of her head.
Her body melted against mine. I let go of her chin to drag her from the cushion beside me onto my lap. She turned to face me, knees on either side of my waist, her legs on either side of my thighs.
I released her head to spread my hands across her waist and then down to drag her even closer.
She gasped against my mouth. “Tucker, I feel like I’m on fire. Is this normal?”
“Totally,” I told her. “Do you want to stop?”
“God, no,” she said. “I think you better show me what happens next!”
So, I did.