Sincerely, Yours

by Whitney G.

Panting, we stared at each other—remaining entwined.

  He trailed his fingers against my collarbone after my breathing steadied, smiling at me and making my heart race. “You okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” He slowly pulled out of me and I gripped the edge of the table to keep my balance.

  Tossing the condom into the trash, he looked at me again—making me wish we’d had each other years ago.

  He lifted me off the pool table and set me on the floor. Then he kissed my lips again and whispered, “Come to my room, so we can finish this.”

  “Okay …” I said, breathless. “What about Ryan and Teresa?”

  “What about them?” He trailed his finger against my lips. “They’ve never mattered to either of us.”

  Track 14. Dress (2:14)

  Rachel

  Ethan led me through the emergency exit doors of the pool room and across the snow-covered yard that led to the back entrance of the lodge. He held me against his side as the harsh winds and snow smacked against us, and when we finally made it to his room, he pulled me to his fireplace and sat in front of me.

  Slowly peeling my costume off my body, he kept his gaze locked on mine. He slid his hand up my back and unclasped my bra—pushing it off my shoulders and down to the floor.

  “Take off your heels,” he said, once he tossed my dress to the floor.

  I obliged and he placed them closer to the fire.

  He took off his shirt and jeans, placing them near my costume to dry, and then he clasped my hand and walked me over to the bed.

  Without a word, he pushed me onto the mattress, so my back was against the sheets.

  He climbed on top of me, kissing his way up from my thighs, to my stomach, to my breasts—taking his time to caress every inch of my skin with his tongue. Then he set every nerve in my body on fire as he repeated the route with his lips one more time.

  “I have a question,” he whispered, once he made it up to my neck. “And I need you to give me an honest answer instead of one of your creative lies …”

  He covered my mouth with his before I could respond. Controlling my lips, he rubbed his hands against my legs and spread them a bit.

  “In one of your letters, you wrote that there was an older art major guy you dated during your junior year,” he said, whispering. “You said he ate your pussy for hours and it was so good, that he ruined you for all others …” He briefly bit my bottom lip and looked right into my eyes. “Was that true?”

  “Part of it …”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Which part?”

  “The part about him being an older art major guy,” I paused. “That’s it.”

  He let out a low laugh and shook his head. Then he moved back and pressed kisses against my thighs, rendering me absolutely useless.

  Moving to the floor, he got on his knees and stared at me for several seconds. Then he grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me forward in one smooth motion, draping my legs over his shoulders.

  Without giving me a chance to react, he buried his head in my pussy and sucked my swollen clit into his mouth.

  “Fuck, Ethan …” I immediately sat up and grabbed at his hair. “Wait, slow down a bit …”

  He didn’t.

  He continued swirling his tongue against me, using his own rhythm to devour me. Each time I called for him to slow down, he paused and slid two deep fingers inside of me—all while letting his tongue kiss my lips the way he wanted to.

  “Ahhh …” I cried out as my pussy began to throb against his tongue, as my hips writhed against his face.

  I couldn’t hold back if I tried, and I fell back against the bed as an intense orgasm overpowered me and made me scream his name at the top of my lungs.

  Shutting my eyes, I still felt him kissing my thighs. Then my stomach.

  When he stopped, I lay still for several minutes.

  I heard the sound of water running in the bathroom and rolled over on my stomach.

  Minutes later, I felt a warm cloth between my legs, felt him kissing the small of my back.

  “We’re not finished, Rachel …” he whispered. “Not even close.”

  “What?” I could barely hear my own voice. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.” He slid his hands against my sides, positioning me on all fours. “We’re just getting started …”

  Gripping my hips, he slowly slid his cock inside of me—making me cry out as he pushed himself in inch by inch. Making me remember just how fucking good he felt when he was inside of me the first time.

  He whispered, “You feel so fucking good …” against the back of my neck when he was completely buried inside of me. Then he slapped my ass. “Grab the headboard ...”

  We didn’t leave his room for the entire weekend.

  Track 14A. Reputation (2:18)

  Rachel

  On Sunday morning, I rolled over in Ethan’s bed—feeling soreness in every single muscle. I couldn’t believe I’d slept with him after all these years. Couldn’t believe I desperately wanted to do it again.

  As I forced myself to sit up, I spotted several empty condom wrappers on his floor.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven … Oh my god …

  I picked up my phone and saw that it was Sunday and we needed to board the bus in a little under two hours.

  “Ethan?” I called out.

  No answer.

  “Ethan?”

  Still no answer.

  Shit.

  I walked over to the fireplace and put on my costume and heels again. I grabbed one of the robes from his bathroom, and checked the hallway before rushing to my room.

  When I made it, I immediately slipped into the shower—holding back groans as the hot water stung and revealed every one of my sore muscles.

  With a little over an hour to go, I made sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, and then I tried to rush toward the bus. It took me all of one minute to realize that I wasn’t going to be able to “rush” anywhere. My legs were too damn weak.

  “Did you have a good weekend?” I asked Ryan, trying not to wince as I sat next to him.

  “Really, though?” He rolled his eyes and stood up, moving to another seat.

  My phone buzzed with a text from him.

  Ryan: You fucking ghosted me after the first night and never came back … Saw you tiptoeing back to your room this morning, though. Go talk to whoever you’ve been fucking.

  I sucked in a breath and put my phone away.

  “I didn’t see Ethan that much this weekend,” someone behind me whispered. “Was he sick or something?” Someone else offered.

  Teresa boarded the bus minutes later. She glared at me as she put away her bag and made her way to the back. Before I could process that, Ethan stepped onto the bus, looking sexy as ever. His eyes met mine and he placed his bag in a bin at the front. Then he made his way down the aisle, but I stood up before he could sit down.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, moving with me.

  “I just want a better view.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “Hmmm.” He smiled, making my stomach flip. “Are you still sore?”

  I blushed. “Can we talk about what happened when we get home?”

  “I don’t see what we need to talk about.”

  “Us.” I looked at him and lowered my voice. “And people thinking that we’re fucking.”

  “We are fucking.” He smiled. “Well, we were up until an hour ago.”

  “You know what I mean, Ethan.”

  “I don’t. Did you not enjoy it?”

  I didn’t answer, and he raised his eyebrow.

  “Tell me if you enjoyed it before you make your next flawed point.”

  “Yes, I enjoyed it, Ethan,” I lowered my voice. “Happy?”

  “I am. Now, what’s the problem?”

  “We’re not together, you’re not looking for anything serious, and I have no interest in dealing with speculation from anyone about—”


  He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me long and hard in front of everyone—silencing every excuse I had. There was a chorus of gasps when he pulled away from me, a few approving utterances from the guys.

  “There,” he said, whispering against my mouth. “Now, there’s no speculation about anything at all.”

  Track 15. Delicate (3:27)

  Ethan

  A few days after the lodge trip …

  Unknown number: So much for Rachel Dawson being “an old neighbor [you] can’t stand” huh?

  Unknown number: I knew you two were fucking and you were using me as a way to fill your time until she got back.

  Unknown number: I still miss you … Let me know if you ever want to make up. (I’ll drop everything, if you just say the word.)

  I deleted Lisa’s latest string of desperate text messages and considered finally texting her the “Fuck off” she deserved, but she wasn’t worth my energy.

  Didn’t I see her with a new boyfriend?

  Restless, I slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to Rachel’s room. I knocked on her door, and like the nights before, there was no answer. Since we’d come back from the trip, she’d gone out of her way to avoid me, and we had yet to cross paths again.

  I knocked on her door one last time before slowly opening it. Her bed was empty, and her cell phone and purse were long gone.

  Confused, I sent her a text message.

  Me: Hey. You up?

  She didn’t text me back.

  I headed to Greg’s room, stopping when I saw him plopping onto the living room couch. “Have you seen Rachel tonight?”

  “Maybe.” He crossed his arms. “Before we can discuss that, there’s something important we need to discuss. We need some new rules around here.”

  I braced myself for bullshit.

  “If you and Rachel are going to date under my roof—and yes, this is my roof, just as much as it’s your roof, there will be no sex on the living-room couch.”

  “You had sex on the living room couch last week.”

  “Oh, yeah …” He laughed. “Speaking of which, if a sex-tape comes out this semester and our house happens to be in the background, and you think that the guy in question looks like me … It’s not me. It’s someone else.”

  “Are you really this dense, or are you pretending today?”

  “Well, I am pursuing a minor in Theater Arts, so maybe I’m pretending.”

  “I hope so.” I shook my head. “Where did Rachel go?”

  “There’s one last rule,” he said. “You must put a sock on your bedroom door whenever the two of you want alone time, so me and my company won’t walk in, and you need to ask Rachel to hook me up with her newest friend. End of discussion.” He looked at me as if he’d just closed the deal of a lifetime. “Anyway, Rachel’s probably at the same place she was last night.”

  “Which is?”

  He shrugged. “Like I know. The only thing she said was that she wanted to get away from ‘all the mother-daughter week bullshit’ on campus. She also stole your bag of quarters and told me not to tell you.”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  “What? She didn’t share the quarters with me, so I’m under no obligation to keep her secret.”

  I laughed and grabbed my car keys, realizing where Rachel was. “I’ll be back.” I headed outside and slipped into my car, heading straight for Super Suds.

  When I arrived, the shades for all the windows were drawn shut, and there were no cars outside. I opened the door and made my way through the maze of washers and dryers, stopping once I spotted Rachel in the corner.

  Dressed in a set of gray flannel pajamas with several pink rollers in her hair, she smiled as she sketched in her notepad.

  “Is this where you plan on sleeping tonight?” I asked, sitting across from her.

  “No.” She looked up at me. “I’m pulling an all-nighter and getting my laundry done at the same time.”

  “How did you get here?” I asked.

  “Uber. Since my roommate said I can’t use his car.”

  “Is this where you were last night?”

  “Maybe.” She set down her pencil. “Is doing my laundry at night going to be a problem?”

  “It is, if you’re avoiding me.”

  “I’m not.” She blushed. “I’m studying for a test and doing my laundry.”

  “Rachel, it’s one o’clock in the morning. You don’t have any upcoming exams.”

  “I just wanted to get out of the house for a few nights, you know? For a change of scenery … and celibacy.”

  “So, you think I’ve been stopping by your room in the middle of the night?” I smiled. “For sex?”

  “Have you?”

  “I’ve stopped by and noticed you weren’t there,” I said.

  “And you weren’t hoping for sex?”

  “I definitely was.” I pulled one of the rollers from her hair, forcing curls to fall to her shoulders. “Seeing as though sex with you is the best I’ve ever had, I think it would be normal to want it again.”

  Her cheeks reddened again. “It was just okay for me.”

  “Once you hit five orgasms in a night, it becomes more than just okay.” I trailed my finger against her lips. “Tell me the truth. Why are you avoiding me?”

  “I don’t want sex to affect our relationship—the fake one or the enemy one,” she said finally. “I don’t want it to change anything.”

  “You know, I’m starting to think that our friendship was never fake.” I looked into her eyes. “I’m also starting to think that we’ve never really been enemies.”

  “I started Semester at Sea because I wanted to get the hell away from you after high school, and I vividly remember fighting all the time before that. We even fought in the first series of letters we sent. We’ve always been enemies, Ethan. Always.”

  “So, the times you came through my bedroom window at night and slept in my bed under a ‘temporary truce’ don’t count for anything?”

  “Not when part of the truce was to act like it never happened.”

  “We both know it did.”

  “So? Anytime I climbed through your window to talk about something, I was only using you because I didn’t have anyone else.”

  “I didn’t have anyone else either, Rachel.”

  “You had plenty of friends.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I thought I did.”

  Silence.

  I pulled another roller from her hair, keeping my eyes on hers. “True enemies don’t look out for each other, and they damn sure don’t care about each other’s personal lives.”

  “Exactly. We never have. So, what’s your point?”

  “I can’t think of a single milestone or important moment in your life when I wasn’t right there with you.”

  “I know. You were there to ruin all of them.”

  “No.” I laughed. “I mean, I was there when you needed me, and you were there when I needed you. And it was never by default, Rachel. It was always by choice.”

  She shook her head. “What are you trying to say, Ethan? We should fuck again because we have a history?”

  “We should fuck again because sex with you is incredible,” I said, watching her blush. “That said, I think we should take the ‘temporary’ tag off our friendship for the long term. And because I know you—” I paused, letting her say the seven words she always said whenever I mentioned that.

  “You don’t know me at all, Ethan.”

  “Exactly.” I smiled. “Anyway, I can promise you that sex won’t ruin anything between us. Since every other guy has failed at it, you should give me a chance to be the one thing you’ve wanted since I’ve known you.”

  “You want to try being my best friend?”

  “I’m already your best friend,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I’m talking about being your boyfriend.”

  Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. She was still blushing, but she wasn’t saying anything.

 
“Is that a yes?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you know what being a boyfriend requires.”

  “I’m sure you have a list,” I said. “Would you like me to take a look at it?”

  “I don’t have a list, Ethan.” Her eyes gave that lie away. “But if I did have a list—hypothetically speakingmy number one says that real boyfriends don’t cheat.”

  “I’ve never cheated.”

  “Number two says that real boyfriends insist on making sure that there are romantic outings every week.”

  “You have another list about the requirements for real dates as well, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely not.” Her cheeks reddened again. “Number three would say that there’s no sex, but lots of intimate moments.”

  “I’d be fine with that, if I wasn’t already addicted to our sex.” I pulled a few more rollers from her hair. “But I’m looking forward to these intimate moments.”

  “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  “Only because you want to hold out and make this shit dramatic.” I smiled. “That’s what all your favorite heroines do, correct?”

  She smiled, not answering.

  “I can deal with that.” I moved her sketch pad to the side and stood up. “I’ll give you a few hours to give me a yes.”

  “I think it’s going to take me more than a few hours to think about this.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “In that case, I’ll have an answer for you in a few weeks.”

  I laughed and kissed her, gently biting her bottom lip. Then I gripped her waist and lifted her up, setting her on top of a dryer.

  Unbuttoning her pajama top, I whispered against her mouth, “I think you’ll have the answer I’m looking for the second I’m done with you tonight.”

  Back Then: 17 Years Old

  Ethan

  Dear Rachel,

  (This is a truce message.)

  Your AP Art teacher asked me why you’ve missed class for the past two weeks. I don’t know if you want me to tell him that you’ve been spending it at the hospital with your mom, so I made up a lie. I also asked him for your homework assignments. (I asked all your other teachers, too.)