Once my make-up is off, I try tugging my dress over my head. After it almost gets stuck—which would have left me basically bare assed to the world since I’m wearing a thong—I call out Tucker’s name for help unzipping it.
Like the gentleman he is, he knocks lightly on the door. “Come in.”
“You called?”
“Could you, um…,” I begin, suddenly nervous to be so close to Tucker in this tiny space. “Could you unzip me? Please?”
“You’re asking me to take clothes off a beautiful woman? Sure!” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
It doesn’t help at all because my nerves are still all whacky as I present my back to him. I take in a sharp breath when his warm hands make contact with my cool, clammy skin. Air rushes in and out of my body, my chest pumping with anticipation of his next move. Stupid on my part, because the only real place he can go is to the zipper on the bottom back half of the dress.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
Rather than picking his hand up and moving it to where it needs to be, Tucker slowly drags his fingertips down the center of my back, causing chills to spread out across my body. I shiver from his touch and let out an unsteady breath. The shiver is quickly replaced by warmth as Tucker steps in closer, so close I can feel his hot breath on my neck. He tugs on the zipper, pulling me closer into him, and I can’t help the small whimper that escapes as his mouth finds its way to the exposed area of my upper back. His kisses are slow and soft and unexpected. My head screams that it’s too soon for touches like this, that it’s wrong. But my heart rejoices at how right this feels, how good this moment is. I’m not sure which one to believe.
The only sounds in the apartment are the zipper and my breathing. Both are too loud. Tucker continues placing gentle pecks on my back, brushing his lips back and forth.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Maura,” he exhales. “Your skin is soft. Delicate. Tell me, is this where you’d get your tattoo?” He presses a heavy hand into the center of my back, and I nod slowly. “You should. A bird. That’s what you need. Something to symbolize freedom.”
That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. I hate how well he knows me.
“What do your tattoos mean?”
“It’s my push and pull against life. I feel like I’m only halfway living it.”
“But what happens when you start fully living it? What will they mean then?”
“One half will be a reminder of what I don’t want to be again. Half alive.” He plants another kiss on my back. “I don’t want that anymore, Maura. I want to be complete.”
As I begin to relax into his touch, he pulls the zipper down and steps away without another word. I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of the door clicking shut behind him and collapse against the sink, attempting to regulate my breathing. My heart is scratching at my chest, begging to be relieved of its cage.
It is. Now it is. With everything that happened with Tanner tonight, it’s freed. I can do as I please. And what I want is Tucker.
I think.
Well, I mean, I know I want him, but I also know how wrong that would be, especially so quickly.
But what would one night hurt? Nothing.
So that’s what I’ll give myself. One night with Tucker, and that’s it. After that, I need to find who I am again. I loved the person I was becoming last summer after graduation. I was getting louder and braver and way more outgoing. But then I met Tanner and I felt stifled, like I needed to be the immaculate version of myself again. So that’s who I was, Meek Maura, afraid of my own shadow and absolutely terrified of disappointing anyone.
Guess I got over that fear after tonight. Because I definitely disappointed Tanner. And if I’m honest, myself.
Pushing off the counter, I finish taking off my dress and put on Tucker’s clothes. I take one last glance in the mirror, place a hand on the doorknob, exhale one last breath, and peel away the last layer of my mask.
Because like Tucker, I want to be complete. And I know he’s the person to help me accomplish this.
“You ready to fall in love with the Winchesters?” He smiles broadly as I walk back into the living room.
I groan. “I guess.”
Before I sit back down on the couch, I grab both bottles of wine from the kitchen because I have a feeling I’ll need all the liquid courage I can get tonight.
Tucker quirks an eyebrow at me as I settle back down next to him but doesn’t say anything. The lamp clicks off, and we’re briefly shrouded in darkness, both holding our breaths until the screen lights up again.
Our marathon begins, and I have to, reluctantly, admit that I enjoy the show. It’s kind of cheesy with all the “brother” talk, but it’s fun, and I enjoy watching it with Tucker. Seeing him laugh and get scared all within about ten seconds of one another is endearing. And so is his obvious attachment to the characters.
Before I know it, we’re onto disc two and about one glass away from being out of wine.
“Wanna do a shot? This wine doesn’t do shit for me,” Tucker offers.
I think about that for about millisecond. “Sure. I’ve never done one before, so why not.”
He doesn’t appear shaken by my confession but instead grins and heads into the kitchen. He quickly comes back carrying two small glasses filled with amber liquid. I let out a low laugh, because of course he has shot glasses but not wine glasses. Men.
“Don’t ask what it is. Drink,” he instructs, handing me the booze.
I hold up my shot to him, as if to say cheers. “Here’s to a night of firsts.”
We clink glasses and toss back the liquid fun. I immediately gag.
“Ugh! What the hell was that? I think I might puke.”
Tucker chuckles. “Jameson.” I groan. “You okay? Was mixing whiskey and wine too much for you?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. No puking for me.”
“Good,” he says, heading to the kitchen to refill his glass. As he walks back into the room, he asks, “You ready for more?”
I nod and guzzle down the rest of the wine in my cup. I give myself a refill, take a large gulp, and lounge back onto the couch. Tucker slips an arm around me, and I’m not sure if the tingles I feel are from the wine or his touch, but I like them either way.
“Maura,” he says shakily about five minutes into the new episode. I can hear it in his voice. The regret. It’s swallowing him whole like it is me. “I’m so—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “Please don’t. It’s not your fault. This one’s on me. I was the one in a relationship, and I knew better. I cheated, not you.”
Tucker sighs as he sits up, pauses the show, and sets his glass on the table. “Is that what he said? You cheated?” he asks, turning to face me. I nod. “Do you love him?”
“I…I don’t know,” I admit.
“But that’s the thing. You should know. It shouldn’t be something you have to think about. It’s automatic. Either a yes or a no.”
That’s the truth. It should be.
“Then no. I don’t love him.” I swallow a lump in my throat and drop my head to stare at my lap. “I’m not sure if I ever did.”
Tucker pulls my face back up, forcing my eyes to meet his. I wince at how swollen his eye has become. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol making me so emotional or the shit night we’ve had has finally caught up to me, but tears start falling before I know it.
“I know I said I didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m so sorry, Tuck.” I sniffle and wipe at my cheeks. “This is all my fault. I feel terrible. I wish…I wish I had told Tanner long ago that I didn’t want to be with him romantically. Maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened. Maybe this shitty spot I’ve put you two in wouldn’t be so shitty. Maybe I’d be a lot damn happier than I have been these past few months.”
The tears roll down my face, and Tucker shifts me closer to him. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “Don’t cry. Please. It’s hurting me to watch you cry, especially over my dipshit brother.
You—”
I cut him off again. “You think that I’m crying over Tanner?”
“Well, I mean, yeah. Is that not why?”
“No, not at all,” I tell him on a humorless laugh. “How sad is that? I’m not shedding tears over my boyfriend but because of all these stupid confusing feelings I have for his brother. All these frustrating urges I have. I’m crying because I feel horrible for hurting Tanner, but I don’t feel bad that it’s over. Like at all. I’m crying because I should have had the lady balls to say something to him a lot damn sooner. But I didn’t because I’m a chicken-shit peace-keeper. Because I have this crazy desire to be the perfect daughter, to date the perfect guy, to make everyone else happy and not give a rat’s ass about what makes me happy.” I let out a harsh breath. “I’m weak, Tucker. That’s why I’m crying. I’m absolutely fucking weak, and I’m tired of being this way.”
Somewhere in the middle of my rant, I stood up. Now I’m standing in the middle of Tucker’s apartment, swaying, because I can definitely feel the alcohol now. I feel numb, and it feels good.
Tucker stands and walks toward me. His six-foot-two frame towers over my small one. I look up at him, my legs shaky from the heat I see in his gaze. Or again, maybe the booze.
“You think you’re weak?” he scoffs. “Do you have any idea how incredibly brave I find you? You’re constantly dragged down by your mother and ignored by your father. You always put everyone else before you, putting yourself in these situations where you’re the one always making sacrifices for the happiness of others. But you never, ever complain about any of it. Everything you do is for everyone else, but no one ever knows that because you have this way of making people believe that whatever it is they want, you want it too. You’re selfless.” Tucker’s eyes suddenly light up, and he grins. “Want to know my favorite part? Even when you’re not happy, you smile. And I admire that about you so much.”
His eyes dim as quickly as they lit up moments ago. “You’re tired of it, though. You’re tired of playing the role of perfect daughter and friend. But you’re so worried about hurting someone that you hide behind this mask and hope and pray everyone buys it.” Tucker takes a step toward me. “I don’t, Maura. I don’t buy it for one second.”
I blow out a huge breath, not feeling so numb anymore. Instead, I feel…noticed. And that feels so much better than feeling numb.
“Tuck, I…I don’t know what to say to that,” I tell him honestly.
“Can you promise me something?” I nod slowly, nervous about what he’s about to ask. “Be you. Make you happy. Fuck everyone else. Be. Happy.”
I stare at the wall behind him but don’t answer. Be me? Make me happy? I want to. I want nothing more than to do something for me and not for everyone else for a change. But can I? Can I say “fuck it” and go after all the things I want?
I’m not sure if it’s Drunk Maura, Sober Maura, or the same bitch in my head who’s been there all along, but I hear a voice say, Tell him yes, Maura. You can. Make the promise.
So I do.
“Okay,” I promise with honest confidence.
Then I’m moving backwards, because Tucker’s moving forward. When I hit the wall, my breathing is harsh and unattractive. My face is hot, and I feel this slow, exciting coil begin low in my stomach.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Tucker warns, only seconds before his mouth crashes into mine.
And holy hell does my world implode.
Everything happens at once. Tucker’s hands find my waist as I curl my arms around his neck. My feet leave the floor, and my legs automatically find their way to his hips. My back arches off the wall as I press into Tucker, and he presses into me all while our mouths are fused together. Our tongues duel and teeth clash, but it’s heated and sexy and everything I ever hoped it would be. His hips roll into me, and I groan. He tears his lips away from mine and begins pressing hard kisses along my jaw and straight down to my neck.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he rasps. “Every damn day. Every single fucking time you looked in my direction, I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to touch you. And now I can.”
He captures my lips again, and we tangle ourselves up more. We kiss for days. Or hours. Or minutes. I have no idea, but I do know that what I’m feeling in this moment, I never want it to go away. I never want to know what it feels like to not kiss Tucker. Because this kiss isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever had. This kiss is the kiss, the one that ruins me for all other kisses. And I’m so glad it’s coming from Tucker.
Tucker’s hands find the hem of my shirt. He lets go of my mouth and pauses, meeting my eyes and silently asking if it’s okay to take it off. My head barely moves, and then he’s ripping it over my head in a flash. I gasp when our skin touches, his warm and mine clammy from the booze I’ve consumed.
I pause at that thought. Drinking. I’ve had a lot of alcohol tonight, and I’m not so sure I should be doing this. But I want to, and I know that I’d want to if I were sober. But that shouldn’t matter, because I’m not.
Tucker leans in again. “Everything about you calls to me, Maura. All of it,” he whispers.
Heart, meet throat. All coherent thoughts, meet the door.
“Say something. Anything.”
“Why do you think I’ve stayed away from you? Why do you think I shut myself in on the weekends? I couldn’t stand wanting you like I did and being with him. It felt so wrong.”
Tucker gazes up at me, his eyes on fire and his breaths coming in ragged waves. “And this? How does this feel, Maura?”
“Right. It feels so right.”
“Dude! What the fuck!”
That would be Gaige, my (second) best friend and roommate. He’s currently in the shower, and I just busted in the door to take a leak. Of course my dick isn’t working because I have a major boner, so I have to sit down. Ladies, in case you didn’t know, that’s a legit thing. It hurts to piss with a boner, and sometimes sitting down is the only thing that helps. Yes, it’s awkward as fuck to have to do with another man in the room, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.
“Care to explain why there were two empty bottles of wine, bags of chips, and half-eaten pints of ice cream scattered around the living room?” he calls over the curtain. Apparently I ruined his peaceful shower.
I grunt in reply because the asshole is making this even more uncomfortable with all his talking.
“Why, Gaige, best roommate ever, it’s because I had a sleepover. Possibly a drunken sleepover,” Gaige mocks, attempting to sound like me. He switches back over to his normal voice. “What? No way! Who could it be? The girl you’ve been pining over for almost a year now?” And back to “my” voice. “Yep, bro. It’s her.” Back to his voice. “Well, you tell Maura ‘hey’ for me. Or better yet—” he pauses for dramatic effect and then yells, “HEY MAURA!”
I punch at the curtain and hear him groan. Good. I hope it was a junk punch.
“Stop it, asshole. She’s still sleeping. She had a rough night.”
“Rough? TMI, dude.”
I snort in response.
“Speaking of TMI, I’m shower—” Gaige starts, peeling back the curtain to look at me. “Whoa. What the hell happened to your face?”
I automatically reach up to touch it and wince on contact. Fuck. I almost forgot about my brother punching me last night at the party, acting like an ass, and accusing us of cheating. Stellar night.
Then I smile, because it was a stellar night. After the punch, Maura and I ditched the party and went to Mic’s to begin our night of drinking. We quickly moved on to my apartment, where we devoured two bottles of wine and half a fifth of Jameson. No wonder my dick hates me.
“Tanner punched me,” I mumble.
“He what!” Gaige shouts, and I angrily motion toward the door. “Shit, sorry. But he punched you? Did you at least hit him back?” I shake my head. “You’re a damn pussy.”
I smirk at him. “I happen to think I look badass with this black eye.”
“Dude,” he says, wrinkling his nose at me. “No one looks badass sitting on the shitter.”
This time he moves out of the way before I can make contact with my fist.
I finally manage to piss, wash my hands, and make sure to flip the light switch off on my way out, laughing as Gaige manages to give sailors everywhere a good run for their money.
Pausing in the doorway, I admire the beautiful woman lying in my bed. Her blonde hair is a mess, spread out all over my pillow, and the blankets are bunched up around her in the weirdest way, making her bare legs stick out. Although she’s drooling and snoring lightly, this scene in front of me makes me one ridiculously happy man.
Gaige was right. I have been secretly pining for Maura for almost a year now. When I first started taking note of her, she was just an everyday college student loading up on caffeine in the morning. Then she became the best friend of the girl my best friend was falling for. And then she became my brother’s girlfriend.
That last one is what kept me at bay for so long.
Until it didn’t.
I officially met Maura at Clyde’s on the same day she met Tanner. I swear time stopped when I saw her. Undeterred by the fact that I hadn’t seen her at Perk for a few weeks, she still had this invisible thread connected to my chest, making it beat against its cage so fucking hard every time she was near. In that moment, I wanted to know everything about her past, her present, and her future. I felt like I had to have her. I felt like she was mine.
“That’s her. That’s the girl.” Tanner asks who I’m talking about, so I nod my head in her direction and declare, “Her. She’s the one.”
My brother, being the absolute jackass, says, “Damn, bro. Yeah, she’s the one all right. The one that’s gonna be in my bed. I give it a week.”
I admit, I should have told him to fuck off, I should have stuck up for the way she called to me, and I probably should have kicked his ass for talking about her like he was. But I didn’t. I didn’t because the instant her eyes passed over mine and settled on Tanner, I knew dating someone like me was out of the question for someone like her.
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