To Ruin a Good Thing

Note: Contains adult content, including alcohol use and mature language.

It was the second time a guy confessed to Kendra Jackson in the woods, and it was the first time she actually reciprocated those feelings.

But Elijah Lucas wasn’t the type to just say things like, “Do you like me?” followed by “Because I like you.”

Kendra could only wonder what went through Elijah’s mind in the hour leading up to this moment. The hike hadn’t gone smoothly. They circled the same tree a dozen times. Their cargos were soaked and caked in shit after tumbling into a creek. Kendra had slipped on a wet rock and grabbed Elijah’s backpack and took him down with her. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, until they flung themselves into a fit of laughter.

They had trekked through and scrambled up steep paths just to find this spot: a giant rock on a giant hill, overlooking the trees and the city beyond them, with paper plates of pecan pie in their laps. Somehow, of all the things affected by their fall in the creek, the pie stayed miraculously intact within the cooler.

Elijah could only stare for so long. His dark eyes fell back to the pie. He poked at it with his plastic fork, then shrugged.

“Nevermind,” he said as Kendra blurted, “I do like you.”

They looked at each other and laughed sheepishly.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said back, breaking the pie into squares with her fork. “Sorry. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“No, yeah. I didn’t really expect to say it either.”

“It’s very on brand for you,” Kendra said as she chewed.

Elijah laughed, and they sat there in silence, letting nature fill in the gaps of quiet with a chittering of bugs and critters and leaves calling for attention in the wind. Elijah reached into the cooler and cracked open two beers. The duo clinked cans and smiled at each other, and for once, Kendra felt it perfectly fine that she didn’t know what to do or say next. She just scooted closer to him until their arms touched, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” she said, setting down the pie to hold his hand.

“It is,” he said. “I didn’t know how you’d react. For a second I thought you might kick me off this hill.”

“Oh my god, I’m not an asshole.” She laughed. “But yeah, I do feel the same. I have for a while now, actually.”

Confessions usually went one of three ways for Kendra: Either the guy doesn’t feel the same, she doesn’t feel the same, or shit just doesn’t work out. She’d been in a dozen situationships, only really dating longterm twice in her 23 years of life. She wanted to hold on to this moment, this confession, for as long as she could.

“When we first met, I honestly didn’t expect much,” he said, and she gently punched his thigh with their clasped hands. “I mean, you were attractive of course. But the kind of relationship we had, what we developed, meant so much more.”

Kendra sat up straight and washed down the last square of pie with beer. “So why say something now?”

Elijah took a swig of his own beer. “I don’t know. It just felt right. Like if I didn’t do it now, I would chicken out and ruin a good thing.”

She nodded slowly, staring at the beer in her hands. The first time they met, Elijah was a little more than tipsy. He was the friend of a mutual friend in the Outing Club, and he had already been at the lounge for hours.

“I want you to meet someone,” their friend, Beck, whispered to Kendra. They walked over to Elijah. He was howling in conversation with the bartender, and Kendra couldn’t help but notice his sneakers, a pair of pristine white Air Forces with a sharpie signature on the tongue. He stood next to Milo, a guy Kendra also knew from the Outing Club at their college.

“Oh, what’s up Kendra!” Milo dapped her up and slapped his buddy’s shoulder. “Hey, we’ve got company. Sober up.”

“Sober up? Man, you’re one to talk.” Elijah turned around with a drink half-empty in his hand. “Oh, hey. What was your name?”

“Kendra,” Beck answered, a little too eagerly.

“Kendra,” Elijah said, tilting his head. “Where’s your drink? I think we gotta make a toast to another successful outing.”

“Oh, I—”

“Say less. It’s on me,” he said, and waved the bartender back over. “What do you drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Kendra said, smiling.

He grinned in return and, god, did he have a nice smile.

The four of them clinked glasses and drank up. Milo and Beck were already invested in their own conversation when Kendra turned to Elijah.

“So you’re in the Outing Club too?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Elijah said. “Getting everyone together like this is nice. I guess we can be a bunch of outdoor nerds who get drunk every once in a while, too.”

“Once in a while?” Kendra said as she stirred the ice around with her cocktail skewer. “I don’t know how long you’ve been a member, but they do this nearly every weekend. They kinda need that extra—outlet, if you know what I mean.”

“I see. Well, you caught me,” Elijah said. “I literally joined two weeks ago. Milo forced me, basically. I usually hike or camp alone.”

“Really. Why is that?”

He glanced at her, and for a split second that grin of his fell to a straight line. He shrugged. “Well, I’m sure you know how it is. Going solo takes the complexities out of life. I used to hike a lot with my ex, so I’d rather start up with a group this time around.”

“I get it,” Kendra said, and leaned on the counter. They were so close that their forearms nearly touched. “I take trips by myself all the time now. My uncle was my hiking partner. He was—he taught me all I know.”

Elijah looked down at her for a moment, nodding before gulping a good portion of his drink. Their forearms touched as he leaned back into the counter.

“So that’s why you like the Club so much?”

Kendra downed her drink completely. The orange bitters and sweet sting of whiskey burned her throat.

“Bingo. And, I get to meet cool people like you,” she said, raising her glass to him and setting it on the counter.

Kendra blinked at the beer can in her hands, and suddenly felt a chill brush her cheek, until she realized it wasn’t the wind or the cold, but a hand. Before she could think, she felt lips on hers, the taste of malt and pecans hot on her tongue. Kendra set the beer down and melted into him, the man she never planned to entertain with a confession.

“Hey, K,” Elijah said breathlessly, giving her another kiss before leaning back. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Kendra laughed. “No. You’ve only teased me.”

“Right. Sorry. You’re beautiful,” he said, and he went to grab her waist before hesitating. “Wait. Is this okay? We don’t have to—”

“Yes,” Kendra said, and swung into him again. For an absurd moment, she thought about the family-sized pecan pie sitting in their cooler.

They went to a diner one night with a few friends from the Outing Club, and everyone ordered some normal plate of food. For whatever reason, Kendra scoffed at the thought of a real meal.

“I’ll take a pecan pie, please.”

“What?” Elijah said. “How did you know I was ordering that?”

“In-sync minds, I guess. I hope you know I’m stealing some of yours.”

He gasped. “How could you?”

“Damn, y’all aren’t gonna get like a burger or something?” Milo shook his head.

“Hey, hey, this is between me and pecan pie princess.”

“Uncalled for,” Kendra said, pointing her fork at him.

“I said ‘princess.’ Take it as a compliment.”

When the food came out, Kendra resisted the urge to steal a bite of his pie. He ordered coffee, too, and it was an ungodly hour. The group talked and ate, but eventually Milo, Becka, and the others left to check out a new bar in town. It was just Kendra and Elijah at the table, and the young woman could only hear her heartbeat thumping a little louder.

She cleared her throat. “You don’t wanna go out with them?”

Elijah shrugged. “Nah. If I’m being honest, I’d rather stay here and share a pie with you.”

“Are you implying we order another slice?” she asked, masking her eagerness.

Elijah grinned. They did, in fact, order another pie. The two sat across from each other, and on the tiny clock on the wall in the back, the time ticked closer to midnight. The chatter died down along with the lights. Kendra hated how much she wanted Elijah.

“What’s with your love of pecan pie?” she asked, ignoring her thoughts.

“Oh, what’s not to love about it?” Elijah held a giant forkful of it in front of her. “It’s gooey, it’s crunchy. You’ve got the crust, the pecans. It’s the perfect dessert. My mother made a mean pie, too.”

Kendra watched him. They’d been friends for over a year now, trekking on countless trips with the rest of the Outing Club. Laughing about bug bites and camping mishaps. The bond, the friendship, far exceeding Kendra’s desire to force something more between them. Still, she didn’t think it was her place to ask about the past.

“She is around,” Elijah said. Kendra looked up at the young man, and he was staring at the plate between them, poking his fork around the corners of the dessert.

“She’s funny. She’ll come around and say ‘hi’ every once in a while, but I just don’t see her, you know? God, out of everything, I miss her pecan pie. Best damn dessert in Jersey.”

Kendra kept her eyes on him. He ate another piece and glanced at her, then waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway. Mommy issues aside—”

“I don’t mind if you talk to me, Eli.” The words just came out, tumbled onto the plate between them.

“I am talking to you.”

“You know what I mean,” she said.

Elijah looked at her for a moment longer. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, K.”

They razed through forkfuls of pie until it was gone, until the memory was gone—the warmth of their bodies creeping in, the dirt and rocks pressing into their thighs, their backs. The wet cargo pants lay discarded by the cooler. They didn’t notice the scrapes on their skin. The open air. The possibility that any other hiker could find them like this, could catch them and scream in disgust—god, they didn’t care.

“Eli,” Kendra said hours later.

No one had come. A breeze kicked in, but a chill did not prickle against their skin. There was only skin on skin, and the wonderful notion that this could be the start of something real.

Elijah stared up at the sky, one forearm draped over his eyes.

“Hey. You okay?”

He flinched and blinked at her. “Hey, sorry. I’m good.”

“Just good?” She rested a hand on his chest, and there she could feel his heartbeat hasten. He didn’t look at her. Just stared at the sky like it told him something, like up there meant more to him than this very moment. For the first time that day, a pang of anxiety struck her.

He sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He grabbed his cargos and yanked them on, fumbled with the shirt lying next to him.

Kendra could only watch. Then, slowly, she slipped her own pants back on and zipped up her windbreaker. He kept repeating it, apologies tripping over his lips in murmurs and exhales. A frustration settled in the crinkle between his brows, and then he sat on the giant rock and ducked his head into his hands.

“Eli,” Kendra said, and it was all she could say. She stood there, observing him like any other day—breathing in his features, his brown eyes and tan skin, his laugh, that dazzling grin. She admired him and wanted him and hated him all at once. Every time they waved at each other on campus, or said “see you later,” or shared pecan pie. It became tradition. That little diner, the pie, the shared traumas of childhood and relationships gone wrong. Kendra wondered, suddenly, if this would just be another story in his mental library.

“Eli,” she said, and sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”

He ran both hands over his close-cropped hair and finally looked at his friend.

“I really am sorry,” he said. “I don’t—I don’t think I’m over her. It’s not fair to you. I know it isn’t fair. I don’t want to do this to you.”

“Over who—Amber?”

He nodded, unable to look at Kendra again.

“Why? I mean, why even tell me you like me? Like—shit, Eli. Shit.”

“I know,” he said. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” She held the zipper of her jacket and fiddled with it absently. “It just sucks, you know? This sucks.”

“I know.” Elijah clasped his hands together and rested his forearms on his knees. “You’re wonderful, K. You—you deserve better. I didn’t think she affected me like this. I blocked it out. I blocked her out. God, I sound like such an ass.”

“You are an ass,” Kendra said, lightly, all things considered.

“Yeah.” Elijah sighed. “I care about you. I care about our friendship. I thought I was ready. I really did.”

Kendra ran the zipper a few inches up and down. “I wish you figured this out sooner.”

“I—I know. Do you regret it? What we did?”

She wanted to kick him off that cliff. She wanted to crawl under the rock they were sitting on. She wanted him. Still.

“I don’t regret it.” She stood up and walked in front of him so she wouldn’t have to look at his stupid face. “But I do regret knowing how we feel about each other. I almost wish you didn’t say anything at all. Why is she still affecting you, Eli?”

“She was my first love. I know it’s dumb. It’s been half a year since I’ve even seen her.” Elijah sighed at himself. “I want you, K. I can’t think about being in a relationship right now, but I want our friendship. If you’d even be okay with that. I know that’s a hard ask. I just—I don’t want to say goodbye, either.”

Kendra sniffed. The cold was getting to her. Rolling around in the dirt like a dog apparently isn’t a good idea, and her senses sobered up enough to remind her that that is something she was okay with because fuck—she really, really liked this guy. She suddenly felt a wash of shame and horror and sadness sink into her skin, deflating any anger she felt toward the guy.

“This really sucks,” she said, sniffing again. She cleared her throat and brushed a hand across her cheeks. Her eyes betrayed her at the worst times.

Kendra felt a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t brush it away. She turned to tell him she needed a minute, so he nodded and walked back toward the trail. She didn’t think their friendship would be the same. They liked each other this entire time, and yet, they were only more than friends for a few fleeting hours. A spree of intimacy careening into an inevitable dumpster fire. A fire she was forced to extinguish. To forget.

Kendra sniffed for a couple more minutes before gathering herself and walking over to Elijah. He stood up immediately, clearly not feeling any better about himself.

She looked at him almost longingly. “You’re lucky I’m a good friend.”

“I am.”

“And you’re an idiot for even confessing.”

“Yeah.” Elijah smiled sadly. “I am.” He walked up to her, and without hesitating she raised her arms up.

“Come on. You’re alright, dummy.” She embraced him, breathing in the spiced vanilla and burnt oak of his cologne, the scent of his skin in the dirt, on hers, for what felt like would be the last time.

It wasn’t really goodbye. But in a way, she thought, it was.