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Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

“Well,” I said, grateful he wasn’t offended. “You look great for an old man. And yes, I’m very surprised. Happily surprised. Very happily surprised.” We went for a walk in the park, two people enjoying the sunshine. We’re both voracious readers, so we talked about books: Song of Solomon, my favorite, and Catch-22, his. When he put his arm around my shoulders, I waited for his kiss. Instead, he brushed my hair with his lips. “I can’t have a physical relationship with you,” he told me.

“I wasn’t asking for one,” I said, taking umbrage. At the same time, I started aching for him.

“I’m just putting it out there. We can see each other as often as it makes sense, but we can’t touch each other.” He paused. “We’ll wait until you’re older. Seventeen.”

Seventeen? That was two years away. He had to be kidding, or in denial. As it turned out, we could barely wait six months. I was fifteen and a half when Marcus kissed me the first time.

“You kissed me,” he says now.

“Oh my God, I did not. You kissed me.”

Christ, that kiss. On the phone, Marcus walks me through the memory; the way he touched me, the way I touched him. He reels me in slowly, just a few details then a few details more.

Again, we go to the park, only it’s Riverside, on the west side across town. It’s chilly out, so no one’s here. Two ducks waddle by. Marcus and I sit on a bench. Tracing my skin with his finger, he says he’ll never understand why men hunt. “Look at those ducks. They’re harmless.”

I correct him. “Those are drakes,” I say. “They’re male.” I can see my breath as I speak. I’m shivering from the cold and from Marcus.

He asks how I know.

“They’re not wearing lipstick.”

Marcus cracks up. “You are so clever,” he tells me. “Such a clever, clever girl.” My body hums with desire.

“Remember the ducks?” His voice, his warmth spreads through me, floods me.

“They were drakes.” I am so desperate to feel his skin, taste his mouth, I claw at my sheets. I want to do everything all at once and savor every second.

On the bench, he leans forward. I close my eyes. He presses his mouth against mine. I feel myself falling. A trapdoor swings open.

I stroke myself while he talks. “I love you,” he says. He’s breathless too. “I love you, Cassie.” Losing myself in his voice, I brace my body for the rush, for the heat I can’t capture but then I can, then I can. It’s ecstasy, all of it. “Cassie, baby.”

“I love you, too,” I choke out, panting. “I love you forever, Marcus Silver.”

26

A FEW DAYS LATER, HAGGERTY SENDS A TEXT: