Sincerely, Yours

by Whitney G.

  “There was no Prom King because we never got to that point,” he said. “Prom was canceled.”

  “What?”

  “Well, more like postponed on the account of a certain incident.”

  “Oh … Was the incident something awful? Like, did something fall from the ceiling?”

  “Not necessarily.” He shrugged. “Halfway through the nineties hour, the fire sprinklers came on and everyone got drenched within seconds.”

  “Right … I don’t believe that at all, Ethan,” I said. “You’re just making that up to make me feel better. How was the prom, really?”

  “You honestly think I would concoct a story to make you feel better about anything? After you got me grounded for most of my senior year?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Exactly.” He leaned back. “The night was overrated to begin with. For starters, the DJ we all wanted called in sick at the last moment, so they brought in the guy from Boomer FM.”

  “The oldies station?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “The caterer only brought enough food for half our class, so the only thing that was left after an hour was crackers and caramel popcorn. Oh, and the photographer bailed after he realized that the class president didn’t have a check for his services. For me, though, these weren’t even the most annoying parts.”

  I leaned forward. “What were the most annoying parts?”

  “Well, for one, your asshole date was going around the ballroom bragging to me and the rest of his teammates about how he had “that frizzy loser Rachel” going for weeks, and how you were sending him tons of mean text messages. He said he almost felt bad about it.”

  “Almost?”

  “Yeah, almost.” He let out a breath. “Anyway, I got tired of hearing about that, and I also got tired of Shelby begging me to compliment her every few minutes, so I stepped outside. Next thing I knew, everyone was rushing out of the ballroom and to the parking lot since the sprinklers went off.”

  He was silent for several seconds. “There’s going to be a make-up prom next weekend and the dry cleaners are offering free presses and cleaning for every wet dress.”

  “What about the guy’s tuxedos, though? And all the money people spent on cars and stuff?”

  “Mr. Walsh said he’ll try to work some discounts out with all the rental companies. So, looks like you’ll get to go to prom and wear your red dress for everyone to see after all. Maybe this time, you should go to the prom by yourself.”

  “I will.” I looked down at his soaking wet pants and shook my head. “You were outside the building when it happened and you still got wet?”

  “There are fire sprinklers outside as well, Rachel,” he said. “Unfortunately.”

  “I never noticed,” I said, shrugging. “Who the hell would pull the fire alarm and ruin the prom for everyone? I mean, I’m sure the DJ wasn’t who everyone wanted and the night wasn’t perfect, but why would anyone—” I stopped talking and looked at him, my eyes widening with each second that passed.

  There aren’t any sprinklers outside that building at all … And he shouldn’t be wet unless …

  “Do you think that the someone who triggered the alarm will eventually get caught?”

  “I doubt it.” He smiled. “I heard he disabled the cameras before turning on the sprinkler system. Something tells me he has plenty of experience doing that when he sneaks dates into the school’s pool overnight”

  “That’s what you heard?”

  “Verbatim.” He looked at me. “Funny how life works out sometimes, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, very funny …”

  We stared at each other in the darkness, not saying a word.

  I cleared my throat and broke the silence. “So, did you and Shelby Hannah fuck in your backseat, or are you going back there tonight?”

  “No.” He laughed. “We didn’t get a chance to do anything. She was pissed about the night being ruined—on top of me looking like I wasn’t focused on her, so she thought it was a sign from the universe that she shouldn’t sleep with me anymore.”

  “Maybe you should go by yourself to the next prom, too.”

  “I will.”

  Silence.

  He stood up and handed me a white rose corsage. “It’s a satin one, so it won’t die. I bought it at a floral shop on my way home tonight. I figured you’d need it since you won’t have a date to give you one next time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yep.” He started to walk off my porch.

  “Hey, Ethan?” I called, making him look over his shoulder.

  “Yeah?”

  “I still hate you.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “I still hate you, too.”

  Track 19. Call It What You Want (3:22)

  Rachel

  Whenever my professors asked me to create a painting about love in the past, I kindly refused and asked for another assignment. In turn, they threatened to fail me, so I always had to flip through the pages of a local magazine or a fictional book to get inspired. I’d have to listen to a long playlist of love songs until I heard the right note.

  Unfortunately, those pieces were never my best work, and each time my professors said something along the lines of, “Surely, you’ve felt passion for someone in your life, Miss Dawson. Surely you can bring out that love in your work.”

  For years, that topic was my biggest weakness, but after dating Ethan—even for such a short time so far, I knew I would never have that problem again. That no matter how long we lasted, I could always look back and remember our recent nights of spending hours in the hot tub, our mornings making loud love in the kitchen, and the weekends of never-ending dates that made me feel like this was definitely my first real romance. My first true love.

  “Rachel?” Ethan waved his hand in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Rachel?”

  “Yeah?” I looked to my right and realized he was standing in the pier’s parking lot.

  “When do you plan on getting out of the car?” He smiled and unbuckled my seatbelt for me. “Tonight would be nice, but I can wait until tomorrow, if you like. If we wait that long, I won’t be able to take you to Blue Falls in the afternoon, though.”

  I laughed and stepped out, shutting the door behind me. “I didn’t know you were serious about bringing me to the carnival. We came here all the time when we were young, remember?”

  “I only remember leaving with bruises because we fought the whole damn time.” He pressed his hand against the small of my back. “They’ve changed a lot of this since you’ve been gone.”

  He purchased our tickets at the entrance, and we walked down the boardwalk hand in hand. The only things that remained the same were the Ferris Wheel and the paddle boats that lined the dock. All of the former snack machines were now replaced by full-blown food stands that featured funnel cakes, cotton candy, and fried sweets.

  I could still remember all the times we chased each other across the pier as kids, and I was wondering how the hell I’d never managed to guess that the guy who would become my first real boyfriend was my enemy next door.

  Leading me toward the rides, Ethan stopped in front of a bright blue food truck that read, Gayle’s: New Specialty Sweets. Inspired by Carter & Arizona James. The menu on the side door was full of waffles and breakfast themed-desserts, and for some reason, the word “Crack” was posted on all the tins of waffle batter.

  “Before we get on any rides, I need you to finally try this, so I can make sure that you’ve had it at least once.” He held out a few bills for the attendant. “Can I get two hot chocolates, please?”

  The attendant began making our cups, and I stared at the menu.

  “Isn’t there a café near our campus named Gayle’s?” I asked.

  “There is, but you have to wait for at least an hour to get a seat. They have the best breakfast and desserts in the country.”

  “Better than the waffle place we used to stop at before school?”

  “A mill
ion times better.” He smiled and handed me a cup, motioning for me to take a sip.

  I braced myself to hate it, to feel justified in rolling my eyes each time he insisted on ordering this instead of coffee when we were growing up, but it was love at first sip.

  “It’s okay,” I said, taking an even longer sip. “It’s still not as good as my coffee.”

  “Would you like another one before we get in line for the rides?”

  “Yes, please.” I downed the rest of it as he laughed and ordered me another one. “Can I ask you something, Ethan?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “In your letters, you said that you took ‘plenty’ of girls out on dates,” I said. “You said you brought quite a few of them here, especially during your junior year.”

  “And?” He raised his eyebrow.

  “Well, earlier today, when we were in the pool, you said I was about to be your first date to the pier. You said you never brought another girl here because you didn’t want to give her the wrong impression … Which one is it?”

  His lips curved into a smirk. “It’s the latter.”

  “So, you purposely lied in some of your letters to me, too?”

  “I might’ve lied about the locations, but the dates were real.” He handed me a fresh cup of hot chocolate and looked into my eyes. “I was trying to compete with all the places you said you got to see with the guys on your ship. Somehow the pier was as close as I could get in comparison to places like Japan, Morocco, Portugal, and Italy.”

  “So, you were jealous?”

  He smiled. “I didn’t know I was jealous …”

  “Do you know that now?”

  “I know that you’re mine now.” He kissed me, making me blush all over. “Nothing else matters.”

  His lips met mine one more time, for so long, that I knew everyone around us was staring, and by the time he pulled away from me, the night-lights on the pier were aglow.

  We walked to the Ferris wheel and stood in line for half an hour, not saying anything—just letting the laughter from everyone around us fill the air. When it was our turn to get onto the ride, he motioned for me to slide onto the seat first, and then he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

  The cart slowly rose into the air, and I felt my heart racing a mile a minute. From the top of the wheel, I looked out over the pier—at all the twinkling lights and soft rolling waves below.

  “Rachel?” Ethan gently threaded his fingers through my hair.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Rachel?” He placed his hand under my chin and turned my head to face him. “You’ve barely said anything over the past hour. Why?”

  “Because I’m still trying to process what the hell has been happening over the past couple of weeks. That, and I can’t believe I’m dating the guy who burned my collectible Wonder Woman.”

  He smirked. “It’s way past time for you to get over that.”

  “Are you over what I did to your Captain America?”

  “I’ll never be over what you did to my Captain America.”

  “Well, then we’re even.” I leaned against his chest, smiling. “And Ethan?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop running your fingers through my hair.”

  He smiled and ran his fingers through my hair for several more seconds, locking his eyes on mine. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Not at all.”

  He tilted my chin up and kissed my lips. “I thought so.”

  Track 20. I Know Places (1:13)

  Ethan

  Subject: Your Work + A Unique Offer

  Mr. Wyatt,

  I don’t say this too often (and I’ll deny ever saying it if you repeat it), but your work thus far on my wife’s floral shop has been nothing short of incredible. The suggestions on how to better streamline the service and products are far beyond the scope of what I was expecting, and you’ve proved that the last place you belong is in my classroom.

  After speaking to a few of the other professors in the department and realizing that your core business credits will be fulfilled after this semester, we’ve agreed to recommend you for an accelerated MBA program. (It’s the top program in the country.)

  Please let me know if you’re interested.

  Hope to hear back,

  Professor Hughes

  Subject: Re: Your Work + A Unique Offer

  Professor Hughes,

  Thank you for the compliments on my work. I’ll bring the final parts of my project to you this week.

  I would definitely like to hear more about the MBA program. I do have a few offers from other top schools for next fall.

  Ethan Wyatt

  Subject: Re: Re: Your Work + A Unique Offer

  The key word is “accelerated,” Mr. Wyatt.

  This particular program starts this coming winter/spring.) It’s super intense and the classes are six days a week, but we’re confident that you’re a great fit.

  We’ll talk about it when you stop by,

  Professor Hughes

  Track 21. I Did Something Bad (4:09)

  Rachel

  “Would you like another cup of coffee, Miss Dawson?” My academic advisor, Mr. Hinton, sat across from me Friday morning. “What about some tea?”

  “I’ve already had two cups.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He stared at me. “Would you like some extra cream, then?”

  I held back a sigh. I’d been sitting in his office for twenty minutes and he’d filled the time with questions about beverages instead of explaining what his “urgent” and “important” email from weeks ago was about.

  “I have someone I need to meet in an hour,” I said. “Is this just a regular check-in meeting?”

  “Not exactly.” He shook his head. “This is about your credits here at the university.”

  “Okay.” I smiled, knowing where he was going with this. “I’m aware that I’m still missing the required writing classes, but I plan on taking them both next semester, since spelling and written analysis are still my weaknesses.”

  “The writing classes aren’t the problem …” He pulled out a spreadsheet and handed it to me. “Right now, you’re technically classified as a junior at this university.”

  “No, I’ve already taken three years of classes and I’m currently on year four. That makes me a senior.”

  “Yeah, well …” He cleared his throat. "Turns out, I forgot to tell you a little about how the credits work under the adjusted Semester at Sea policy. It was changed during your sophomore year, and it completely slipped my mind, since you opted to do multiple years.” He had the audacity to smile. “But not to worry. It’s rather simple.”

  He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to smile in return.

  I didn’t.

  “Okay, then," he said. "So, here on campus, every class is worth a total of three credit hours. On the ship, the same holds true for the core classes in your major, but your electives are only worth one and a half credits, as SAS partners teach those classes and not official university staff … You are awarded an additional half credit per course in the summer months, though, and the courses you took during the four-week stays in Thailand and Australia did result in two full credits, so good for you.”

  “Mr. Hinton, what are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that if you want to graduate from this university, you have two options. Option number one, you can take three more semesters of courses here. That would mean this upcoming spring, this upcoming summer, and this upcoming fall. Or you can attend a spring and part-summer session aboard the next Semester at Sea sailing. There's a repositioning voyage this winter as well if you want to get a super head start.”

  My heart dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  His eyes widened. "Miss Dawson, there's no need to use foul language. I'm just the messenger."

  "You're the messenger who has just fucked up my plans." I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm planning to pursue a graduate degree next fall."<
br />
  "And you can still do that ... You just, you know, will have to pick the option that allows you to do so." He shook his head and looked down, not making eye contact. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Why didn't anyone tell me about this policy change before?" I was seconds away from screaming. “Surely someone on the ship could’ve let me know. I would’ve gotten the hell off and completed the rest of my work here.”

  Still refusing to make eye contact, he leaned back in his chair.

  With every second that passed, all I could think about was how a little over three years ago, he'd sold me on this “once in a lifetime” program and assured me that the courses were the same as they were on campus. He’d said it was “better than regular college,” and I wouldn't have to make up any credits when I returned. He took my dad and me out to dinner every week to discuss it, wooed me with all new brochures, and made it his business to stay in contact with me as I made my decision.

  I remembered writing his words verbatim in my letters to Ethan, insisting that I was the one who was doing college “the right way.”

  I had no desire to complete another term at sea, and I didn’t want to spend the next year and a half taking pointless, fluff courses.

  “Is there a way I can talk to the dean, Mr. Hinton?” I asked, feeling tears prick my eyes.

  “You can,” he said. “But you need to know that he’s the one who instituted the policy. He wanted to be sure that students weren't trying to take the easy way out.”

  “There’s nothing easy about living on a ship with no Wi-Fi and strangers for three years.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, I truly understand that you’re upset but—”

  “You don't understand anything.” I cut him off and stood to my feet. “You're telling me that I completed three years of college on a boat for shits and giggles.”

  “I wouldn't necessarily say ‘shits and giggles’, per se. I’m sure you learned a hell of a lot while you were away, and I’m sure you’ll treasure those experiences for a lifetime.”