Sincerely, Yours

by G. , Whitney

  “Hey …” I said.

  “Hey …” She didn’t look up as I sat next to her. “I hope you didn’t cut your date short because of this.”

  “There were a few other reasons …”

  “Oh?” She looked at me and I noticed that her eyes were red and puffy, that there were tears falling down her face.

  “Yeah …” I untied the silk headband she was wearing and pressed it against her cheeks. “Turns out she wanted a whirlwind date, too. She also thought I was a complete gentleman, so she wore a sweater.”

  “Bahahaha!” She burst into laughter and I caught the popcorn bucket before it could fall to the concrete. “Oh god! I am … I am … Bahahahaha! That’s what you get for trying to sleep with every girl possible.”

  “Glad my night of epic failure could make you laugh.” I waited for her to stop. “What happened to yours?”

  “Turns out, you were right …”

  “About?”

  “Guys our age are really only interested in sex …” She paused, looking at me.

  “Okay …” I said. “Are you going to tell me the rest of the story, or are you waiting for something?”

  “I’m waiting for you to say what you’re supposed to say. You know, that’s not true, Ari. All guys our age aren’t only interested in sex.”

  I blinked.

  “Ugh.” She shook her head. “He tried to put a move on me in the theater and I mean … I went along with it at first because he’s a really good kisser. I mean a really, really good kisser. He does this thing with his tongue where he kind of—”

  “Can we bypass all the flattery parts for the asshole who left you in the middle of nowhere, please?”

  “Right …” She snapped out of it. “As we were kissing, he started slipping his hands under my dress and you know …”

  “Fingering you?”

  “Yes … Fingering me, and um …”

  I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to finish.

  “It felt good, but awkward, you know? So, I asked him to stop and he did. We watched the rest of the movie and he just kissed me here or there. After the movie, we got into his car and I started to ask him if he wanted to get dinner, since we had a few hours before the fireworks, but he started kissing and fingering me again and um …”

  I pressed the scarf against her cheeks again.

  “When I told him to stop this time, he got mad. He said he was tired of spending so much money on me without getting anything in return. He said he would only continue our date, if I promised he would finally get to fuck me by the end of the night.”

  I sighed.

  “So, I told him I couldn’t promise him that, and he said he couldn’t promise to finish our date either. Then he made me get out of his car and sped off, but not before saying, ‘Thanks for wasting six months of my life …” Tears fell down her face again. “I should’ve believed you … I should’ve known.”

  “No, that’s not it,” I said. “He’s just an asshole.” I sent a quick text to my newest friend, Josh, regarding Elliot and tried to calm Ari down again. “I actually think it’s kind of cool that you want to hold on to your virginity until you’re ready.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “No.” I couldn’t keep a straight face with that lie. “But it’s honorable. Lame as hell, but honorable.”

  “Have I mentioned that you’re a dickhead this week already?”

  “You just did.” I smiled and pulled her up—walking her to my car.

  “On the plus side, at least I’ll get some sleep tonight and have energy to last through tomorrow’s bake sale.”

  “Like hell you will.” I cranked the engine. “I’m not letting a Saturday night go to waste, especially since I have blue balls already. We’re both going to do something so this night won’t be a complete bust.” I veered onto the highway. “Where was lover-boy supposed to take you after the movie?”

  “Sandcastle for fireworks.”

  “Ugh. And after that?”

  “Gourmet ice cream.”

  “Jesus … And after that?”

  “Tattoos.”

  “Okay, we can do all of that, but only if we get tattoos first. I’ll need some pain to focus on to get through the rest of that shit.”

  “Deal,” she said. “Now, tell me more about Monica’s sweater. That was a joke, right?”

  “I wish, my friend. I fucking wish …” I gave her the play by play of my night—every moment in detail, and by the time I was done, we’d arrived at Hot Needle.

  “Were you planning on getting ‘Ari and Elliott forever’?” I looked over at her. “I hope you now know that would’ve been a terrible idea.”

  “I was going to get a key and a pen.”

  “Yes, to the key. No, to the pen.”

  “Okay, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “What are you getting?”

  “I don’t know.” I pulled a box of beer from underneath my seat. “Ask me after I’ve had four or five of these. You can have two.”

  “How very generous of you.”

  “I am, since you’re a lightweight.”

  “If you drink all of those, I’m not letting you drive back.” She took my keys and put them in her purse. “We’ll call a cab to get home, and I’ll take the bus with you tomorrow to get your car back.”

  “Deal,” I said. “So, seeing as though we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here, we can get your dreamy ice cream at a parlor after the tattoos. Wait a minute. I’ve never seen you eat any ice cream. I thought you only ate yogurt?”

  “I do.” She shrugged. “Elliot is the one who loves ice cream.”

  “Okay, forget that.” I opened a beer. “Yogurt it is. I don’t like ice cream that much either, you know.”

  “Unless you’re after a girl who likes it?”

  “Exactly. That changes my ‘likes and non-likes’ list instantly.”

  She laughed. “Why am I friends with you again?”

  “Because no one else will put up with you.”

  An hour later, after we’d chugged nearly all of the beers, we stumbled into the tattoo parlor, trying our best to play sober. Laughing at nothing at all, we happily handed them our fake IDs and design ideas.

  She stuck to her key and pen, and I decided to let the designer have free reign on my right arm.

  I didn’t even realize what exactly he’d drawn until the next morning, when a snooty kid walked up to me on the bus and asked me why I had the State of Arizona on my arm …

  Track 16. Love Story (3:27)

  Carter

  “Hello?” Josh waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello?”

  “What?”

  “Are you going to be my wingman tonight or what?” He sipped his drink. “I get the blonde and you get the brunette.” He pointed his head toward the girls in the booth across from us.

  “Not interested,” I said. “But I’ll stick around for another hour or so.”

  “Not interested?” He looked dumbfounded. “Do you see the brunette? Do you see her body?”

  I looked over again and she waved at me, blushing.

  “I do see her,” I said.

  “So, what’s the problem? Has your mission to get laid as much as possible this summer changed between last week and now?”

  An image from last night, one of Ari straddling me in my car, crossed my mind. “Not really …”

  “Good.” He finished his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the table. “Then be my wingman.” He stood up and I followed suit, walking over to the other booth.

  “Good evening, ladies.” Josh signaled to the waiter as he sat down. “I’m Josh, and this is my good friend, Carter. Do you mind if we join you?”

  They both agreed and I smiled my way through the first round of drinks and pointless topics, not paying any of them much attention. My mind was elsewhere, mainly on Arizona.

  Ever since that day at the marina, we’d spent the last few nights at my place—watching her cooking shows and discussing ra
ndom things like normal, but slipping in a brand new abnormal state of sex at the end of the night. Each and every time with her was more memorable than the last, and I’d never yearned to have someone so many times in a single night before.

  Besides a few random messages she’d sent me this morning, we hadn’t spoken much at all. She had an all-day cooking exam at the culinary school, and they’d told her that they wouldn’t kick her out for a change.

  Looking at my watch, I figured she should be home by now, so in the middle of the brunette telling me that she’d have her apartment all to herself tonight, I texted Ari.

  How did your test go?

  I think I aced it.

  Her response was instant.

  Really f-ing aced it.

  Good for you. Did you celebrate with your classmates yet?

  Ha! You know everyone in the class hates me. LOL (I’m a “thief,” remember?) I just came home and decided to bake myself an éclair.

  You only baked one?

  Yes. Only ONE. What are you up to?

  Out with Josh, role-playing wingman.

  Okay.

  Okay, what?

  Nothing. How is it going?

  You know you don’t really care how it’s going.

  If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked … How. Is. It. Going?

  It’s going so well that I’d rather leave and come to your house to celebrate your exam with you.

  Well, you can’t.

  And why is that?

  Because I don’t want company right now, especially not from some guy I slept with last night, some guy who is now being a wingman, so he can sleep with someone else!

  Ari …

  CARTER …

  Does the all caps mean you’re upset?

  NO. NOT AT ALL.

  I smiled.

  In that case … First of all, I’m not “some guy,” I’m your best friend. Second of all, did you not catch what I typed previously … “role-playing”? Pretty sure I would tell you if I was seriously looking for someone else … I always have, have I not?

  …

  If I can’t celebrate with you in person, can you at least pick up when I call you after this? I’d like to have at least one intelligent conversation today.

  …

  What does the “…” mean?

  They mean yes.

  But no to me coming over tonight?

  HELL NO to you coming over tonight. :-)

  “Carter?” Josh suddenly cleared his throat to get my attention. “Can I talk to you by the bar for a minute?”

  “Sure.” I followed him out of the booth and into a small hallway. “What do want to talk about?”

  “Two things: One, tonight you’ve been a terrible wingman. Absolutely fucking terrible.”

  “I told you hours ago that I didn’t feel like doing this tonight.”

  “Two…” He ignored my comment. “It’s actually a good thing. Now that the brunette is convinced that you’re as fun as a dead fish—”

  “Her name is Farrah.”

  “Same thing.” He shrugged. “They both want to come home with me … Just me.” He stood there smiling, nodding his head slowly.

  “Are you waiting for some applause?” I asked.

  “No.” He held back a laugh. “I just need you to hold off on coming home until later—a lot later. You know, so we can use the living room, and those floor to ceiling windows. I’ve always wanted to do something with those.”

  “Why can’t I just go home first? Like, right now?”

  “Because I just paid the check and they’re more than ready to leave now.” He gave me a pointed look. “More than ready.”

  “Whatever, Josh. Go.”

  “I knew you’d understand.” He gave me a high five and returned to the booth.

  A part of me was actually grateful that I wouldn’t have to stay another second, but without being able to go straight home, I needed something to do.

  Restless, I decided to drive around for a while, so I slid behind the wheel and hit the highway. When I veered onto a familiar exit, I pulled out my phone and called Arizona.

  “Hello?” she answered on the first ring. “Is this Josh’s wingman?”

  “It isn’t.” I laughed. “Seeing as though he got both of the girls in the end, I don’t think that’s an appropriate title for me at all.”

  “He’s going home with two girls?” She scoffed. “Are you sure he’s the best option for a roommate for when the two of you start law school? You sure you don’t want to find another one?”

  “Not unless you plan on withdrawing from Cleveland and staying here to go to culinary school. I’d definitely pick you over Josh for a live-in roommate.”

  “Ummm.” She was smiling; I could tell. “I very much appreciate the offer, but Cleveland is where I belong. How was your day?”

  “Uneventful. Read a few early articles for the fall, fixed a few things on my car, and apparently made my best friend upset.”

  “Somewhat upset … She’s not the psycho-jealous type.”

  “Hmmm.” I suddenly didn’t feel like driving anymore, so I tried to find a parking spot. “What do I have to do to make it up to you?”

  “You can give me a foot massage.” She laughed. “That seems like something you wouldn’t enjoy.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “Open the door.”

  “What?”

  “I’m outside your house. Open the door.”

  “What part of ‘Hell no to you coming over tonight’ didn’t you understand?” There were papers rustling in the background.

  “I must’ve misinterpreted that text … Open the door.”

  She hung up and the door opened seconds later.

  “Yes?” Arizona narrowed her eyes at me, trying to look upset but failing at it. “Something I can help you with tonight, Carter James?”

  “Letting me inside would be a good start.” I stepped forward. “Or I can force you to, if you’d like.”

  “I’d like to see you try …”

  She stood there, not moving, so I picked her up—tossing her over my shoulder and made my way inside. I carried her over to the couch and tossed her onto it, and then I shut the door.

  “You really only made one éclair to celebrate?” I asked.

  “No.” She grinned. “Yours is on the counter.”

  “Thank you.” I walked over and picked it up—devouring it before joining her on the couch.

  “That was very good,” I said, smiling at her.

  “Thank you …” She started to lean against me, as if I was going to wrap my arm around her shoulders, but I prevented her from doing that. Instead, I pulled her into my lap, so she was facing me, so I could look into her eyes and taste her lips a few times.

  “This doesn’t seem like you’re getting ready to prep for a foot massage,” she whispered. “Do you know how those work?”

  “I know exactly how they work.”

  “So why are your hands cupping my ass instead of my heels?”

  “Because, while I will definitely be giving you a foot massage to make up for my completely minor offense tonight, I’m going to fuck you senseless first.”

  Her cheeks turned red.

  “That is the point you were trying to get across when you sent me all those evasive texts before your exam this morning, correct?”

  “Maybe …” She blushed again and I kissed her lips, slowly pushing her out of my lap.

  “Bend over the couch …”

  Track 17. Come in With the Rain (5:12)

  Arizona

  I lay in bed on Friday night—anxious and unable to fall asleep. There was a light rain falling outside my window, and rounds of thunder were roaring in the distance.

  My heart was begging me to text Carter, to ask what he was up to and if he wanted to come over, but my brain overruled it. Mostly because he’d just left my house a few hours ago.

  God, I can’t be this infatuated with him.

  I rolled over and grabbed my headp
hones, thinking that maybe music would be all I needed to fall asleep, but then my phone vibrated. A text message from Carter.

  Hey. What are you up to?

  Attempting to fall asleep. You?

  Same. Would you like to go somewhere tonight?

  Absolutely.

  I’ll pick you up in twenty.

  Practically jumping out of bed, I slipped into an old summer dress and flats. I pulled my hair into a low ponytail and decided to put on a little makeup. I brushed some shimmery pink eyeshadow over my eyelids and accented my eyes with mascara.

  Just as I was putting on lipstick, Carter sent me a text—letting me know he was outside.

  I looked myself over one last time and grabbed my purse before running downstairs.

  “You’re meeting me at the door now?” I stepped back once I opened it, shocked to see him standing there. “You normally wait in the car.”

  “You’re putting on makeup now?” He smirked, lightly tracing the crease of my left eyelid with his fingertips. “You usually don’t wear any, if it’s just you and me.”

  “I was already wearing makeup. I was trying a few different looks in the mirror.”

  “I thought you were attempting to go to sleep.”

  I blushed and looked away, caught in an easy lie.

  He let up an umbrella and held it over my head. “You want to walk along the beach?”

  “No,” I said, dodging puddles as he led me to his car. “Even if it wasn’t raining, hell no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you and late night strolls on the beach never end well for the girl.”

  “Fair enough.” He laughed. “What about the movies?”

  “We did that yesterday.”

  “Yes, but we didn’t actually watch the movie. Maybe we can actually try to pay attention to it this time.”

  I fastened my seatbelt, now remembering how one second, we’d been sharing popcorn in an empty theater, and the next, he’d had me in his lap—saying his name until the credits rolled.

  “No to the movies,” I said. “I don’t trust you. What’s the best place you think you’ve ever taken one of your um …”