by Jillian Dodd
I grab his shirt and start sobbing.
Sobbing like I did the second I got in the car. Where he couldn't see me. I cried harder than I ever have in my life.
Riley holds me tighter, and when I feel his chest heave, I know he's crying too.
After a few minutes he kisses the top of my head then pushes up my chin.
“You know what you need, Ariela Ross? A trip down memory lane. Come with me and let’s remember the good stuff.”
“Then what?”
“Then, we're going to party at Stockton’s like old times. Keatyn wants me to see our class gifts.”
“Gifts?”
“I guess they decided to do two years since technically we had it for that long.”
Eastbrooke Academy - Connecticut
RILEY
I grab her hand and lead her up the hill. When we get to the soccer pitch, I say, “Remember when we won our playoff game?”
“I remember the whole team taking their shirts off. I remember thinking you looked so cute. I always loved your shoulders. They seemed so strong. Like nothing bad could happen if I was with you.”
“I remember you running down the bleachers, jumping into my arms, and kissing me.”
“I remember that too. You were sweaty.”
“What about after?”
“We partied at Stockton’s, of course, but then we snuck off. I brought you down here on the field.”
“And had your way with me,” I laugh.
“Yes, I did. You seemed to like it,” she says.
“I always liked it with you, Ariela.” I drag her away from the soccer field and toward the field house.
“Do you remember sneaking me into the cheerleading locker room?”
She swats me. “I still can’t believe you talked me into it. We could have gotten expelled.”
“The things we did surrounded by pompoms,” I joke.
“This trip down memory lane seems to be us remembering all the sex we had.”
I squeeze her hand. “You and I both know it was more than just sex. We had fun, Ariela. I remember you laying all the pompoms on the floor giggling at the thought of us doing it there. I remember the way your bangs would hang over your right eye and you’d always be pushing it back behind your ear. I remember how soft your skin was. The way your laughter was like music. That shy smile you’d give me when we were about to do something risky.”
“Speaking of risky,” she says, pointing toward Hawthorne House. “Thank goodness you got a first floor room your senior year and I could just sneak in the window. I used to be so nervous sneaking in there at night. Of course, that just added to the excitement. Being with you always felt a little dangerous.”
“I will forever be the boy who ruined Ariela Ross’ reputation for perfection.”
“You did make me get a B on a test once. You were a bad study partner.”
“Me?” I ask, holding my hand to my chest. “I kissed you for every right answer.”
“Which meant we only got through about a quarter of the flashcards before those kisses turned into more.”
“I loved your cheerleading skirt.”
“What’s that got to do with studying?” she asks.
“I was supposed to be studying with Dallas one night in the library, but I knew you were in the gym working on posters for the pep rally. So we skipped studying and came to help you. You had on your practice skirt and kept bending over to pick stuff up. It was the perfect tease.”
“Do you remember when I came and helped you and Keatyn make signs, before we were dating? You wrote your name on my arm in glue then covered it in glitter. I didn’t wash my arm for days.”
Our phones buzz at the same time.
“Text from Keatyn,” I say, pulling it out of my pocket and looking at it.
“Me too,” she says. “Maggie must have told her I was here.”
“It says we’re supposed to go to Stockton’s now.”
“But it’s still early,” she says.
“Probably pre-partying.”
“Do you still have a key?”
Our phones buzz again.
I look at mine. “Another text from Keatyn. It says they will meet us there, but if we get there first to just use our thumbs.”
“Thumbs?”
I shrug. “No idea.”
We head to the chapel. “I used to come to church all hungover on Sunday mornings just to hear you sing.”
“You were sweet,” she says, taking my hand and pulling me down the back hall, down the stone steps, then down a narrow hall filled with meeting rooms and crypts of those long since passed.
When we get to the familiar one of Mary Jane Stockton, we pass it, continuing toward what appears to be a dead end in front of us. We slip behind an unseen narrow gap between the dead end and the stone wall, take twenty steps around a corner, then I shine my phone toward what appears to be the side of a crypt. I flip open the seventh fleur-de-lis.
“The keyhole is gone,” Ariela says.
I examine it closer, moving my flashlight across it. “Look, it’s been replaced with glass and underneath the glass is a small etching that says Class of 2004.”
“Keatyn said to use our thumb. Put your thumb on the glass.”
“Biometrics? Wow. That was a cool class gift.”
“Beats using a key. Especially when you’re trying to hurry.”
I open the door and look at Eastbrooke’s elite’s party place, Stockton’s. Each year, one student is given a key and a great responsibility. The key is passed down to those who are deemed worthy. My older brother, Camden, gave it to me in our junior year.
“Look!” Ariela says. “There’s a furry rug!”
Our phones buzz again.
Keatyn: You have a half hour alone. Use it wisely.
“I almost broke up with you over a furry rug,” she says. “Remember when Dallas asked Kassidy to formal with the furry rug from your room because they'd had sex on it?”
“Yeah, that asshole. I almost killed him for that. That was our rug.”
“You know, it wasn't until I saw the movie that I realized why you even had a girly green furry rug in your room. It was sweet of you to sleep on Keatyn's floor during Homecoming because you were afraid she was in danger.”
“I told her I was having a hot affair with her rug, so she gave it to me. And then one night you and I made out on it and, from that point on, all I could think about was doing you on it. Do you remember our first time?” I grab her hand and pull her toward the rug.
“Yeah, I was so nervous. It's not like I hadn't done it before but—”
“It was the first time it really meant something,” I say, finishing her sentence.
“I made you wait a long time.”
“Fifty-four days.”
“You remember how many days?” she says, a surprised smile forming on her face.
“Yeah. It was torture.”
“I suppose I was sort of purposely torturing you.” She grins. “You had a reputation for loving them and leaving them.”
“Still do,” I say with a laugh.
“Was there ever anyone serious?”
“I didn't sleep with anyone for six months after our graduation.”
“Really?” She closes her eyes. “Oh, Riley. Is it bad that makes me feel good?”
“Why does it make you feel good?”
“My dad said I was a passing fancy.”
“You weren't. Obviously. Now, I have a strict seventy-two hour rule. Once I hit that with the same girl, it’s time to move on. No feelings. No pain. You didn't tell me you married Collin. Remember when I punched him? Your parents were pissed. That's when they started on you, isn't it?”
She nods. “They said you were impulsive.”
“I was! Still am, actually.” I grab her face and kiss her, laying her back on the rug.
When she opens her eyes, she says, “Oh, Riley! Look at the twinkle lights on the ceiling! Aiden and Keatyn always had a thing for stars
.”
“Makes you feel like you’re at The Cave when you are inside and warm.”
“Look, in the corner. Spelled out with stars. Class of 2004. That’s us too.”
I get up and pull her to her feet. “Let’s look at our names. Remember when we wrote them here? We used Keatyn’s Thanksgiving toast, which started a trend of putting our names together on the wall. Like the founders did.”
“Here are the founder’s names!” she says, running her hand across the top of the inscription as I read it.
“All who enter Stockton’s grotto
Swear to uphold our ultimate motto
Never speak of its location
Or risk a life of eternal damnation
For this is a place of legend and lore,
So, party on, friends,
Evermore.
Stanford Thacker III
Olivia Carder
Karoline Talbot
Oliver Nasbith
Class of 1972.”
“And here are ours!” she says.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments
when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.
(Thorton Wilder)
Riley Johnson
Ariela Ross
Aiden Arrington
Keatyn Douglas
Dallas McMahon
Logan Pedersen
Maggie Morgan
Class of 2004.”
While she’s reading, I’m remembering the day we signed it.
“I’m first! I’m the one who got the key,” I say, grabbing the marker from Keatyn after she writes our class quote on the wall.
I sign my name and then joke with Ariela as she writes her name in hot pink.
“You should just write Ariela Johnson, since that’s what it will be soon.”
“The L in your name overlaps the Y in mine. I remember thinking when we signed it that we’d be tied together forever. It’s weird coming back here and not being together.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.
“I remember exactly what you looked like that day. Your smile was bright. There was a bounce in your step. You were wearing my Eastbrooke athletics sweatshirt that was way too big on you. Sometimes you’d wear it without a bra and I couldn’t wait to sneak my hands up it.”
“You snuck your hands up it regardless of what was underneath, Riley.” She pauses and just looks into my eyes. “Thanks for tonight. I think I pushed all the memories of us deep down inside because they were painful. Now, they don’t feel that way. They’re just good memories. I know everyone will be here soon, so I just want to tell you that I remember what you said to me that night on the balcony. I don’t want to cause you anymore pain, Riley. The wedding is next week. If you still want me gone, I'll leave after it and stay out of all your lives.”
“I have a really busy week coming up,” I tell her.
“And I'll be onsite at the vineyard.”
“That’s probably good. It will give us both time to think about what we really want. So, at the wedding. We'll decide. Together.”
“Either way, you have to promise you'll dance with me,” she says.
“I’ll dance with you right now.”
I dim the lights, hook up my iPhone to the wall speaker from the Class of 2013 and hit a playlist I've transferred to every iPod and phone I've owned in the past ten years.
“Riley,” she says, facing me, standing under the twinkle lights. “That’s . . . That’s our song.”
“Actually, it's our playlist.”
“You still have it?” She puts her hand over her heart.
“I do, but I haven't listened to it since the last time we danced together. Remember, in my room, the night before graduation? You cried. The whole time. I could feel your tears on my shoulder. I just thought you were sad because it was our last night in my dorm. Had I known it would be our last time ever—”
“Our last time ripped my heart out,” she says, tears filling her eyes again as I sweep her into my arms and dance with her.
“You held me so tight. How did you end up back with Collin?”
“He was there when I was upset. Princeton was . . . Complicated for me. My parents were thrilled I was there. When my dad helped me move into my dorm, he said it was the proudest day of his life. For me, it felt empty. I felt empty without you. And you never called me. I thought that you would, but I understand why you didn’t. Anyway, Collin got me out of my dorm, talked me into getting involved on campus. It was easier to just do it than explain my feelings. He was nice, but he was never you.”
“You married him.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before the wedding, I called you. I was having a panic attack and didn’t think I could go through with it. I had decided that if you answered I wouldn't marry Collin and that if you didn't it was a sign that I should.”
“I didn't answer.”
“You didn't answer,” she says sadly.
“It was six years ago. A Saturday afternoon in June,” I tell her. “I had just finished golfing. When your name flashed across the screen my heart stopped. I froze.”
“Do you remember in the movie how Keatyn's grandpa told her to flip a coin and she'd know what she wanted? I knew what I wanted and it wasn't Collin. But you didn't answer, so I thought fate was telling me something. And my dad told me it was just cold feet. That Collin was perfect for me. And I felt bad because they had spent so much on the wedding.”
“After I made my first million, I used to imagine going to your house and telling your dad he was wrong about me. When you came back into my life, I imagined a similar scenario. But then I went to pick you up and saw you kissing him . . .”
“I didn’t know he was coming. When I opened the door, I was expecting you.”
“Why did you kiss him?”
“He kissed me. I’m assuming you didn’t stay long enough to see me push him away?”
I hang my head. “No, I didn’t. I was . . .”
“Understandably upset,” she says. “I’m sorry. And thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.”
“Your favorite. Remember when I promised to be a good husband?”
“You told me you’d bring me flowers every week. We thought it was so simple then, Riley. I’ve got to be honest with you. I’m not the same girl anymore. Life has left me feeling jaded and unhappy. I’ve been weak. I’ve let my life play out instead of living it. I’ve been going through the motions. And I take full responsibility for my actions. I’m ready to move on. Or start over. I didn’t know if I was just romanticizing the past when I went to California. I just knew I had to go. For the first time in my life, I truly felt like I knew what I was supposed to do. Where I was supposed to be. I can’t tell you how both freeing and terrifying it felt. But then the other night when we made love, all those feelings I had been pushing deep down resurfaced and I knew I made the right choice. We know the chemistry is still there between us. We know the feelings are still there. We need to see if the love is still there. And if we like the people we’ve become.”
“So we need to start over. Sort of.”
“I think so. I also need to tell you something else. Something I should have told you long before now. On graduation day, when we ran into each other outside the auditorium and I told you, I was going to put a note on your car. I wasn't going to tell you in person. But there you were.”
She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a worn looking folded up piece of paper. She lays it in my hand just as there's a knock on the door.
“I think our time is up.” I hand the note back to her.
“You keep it, Riley. Maybe read it sometime. It says everything I wanted you to know that day but couldn’t say.”
I give her a sad smile and shove the note in my pocket as the door opens and about thirty former Stockton’s members stroll in.
Keatyn and Dallas are the last ones to enter.
“We held them off
as long as we could.” She looks at me tentatively.
I wrap one arm around Ariela and the other around her and, just like I used to, say, “It’s time to party.”
Dallas joins our group hug. “You girls getting up on the bar to dance, for old times sake?”
“Hell yes,” both Keatyn and Ariela say then go running up to the bar.
As Dallas and I watch them dance with some other girls they’ve coaxed up with them, he says, “Why did she come? Did she know you were here?”
“She came for the same reason I did. To put the past behind her.”
Sunday, October 12th
Hotel Suite - Connecticut
GRACIE
“You made Homecoming amazing,” Baylor tells me as he drops me off at the hotel suite. “I’m so glad you surprised me.”
“Even though it caused you some girl trouble?” I tease. My back is against the door, my chin raised. I’ve been hoping all night that he’d kiss me already.
He touches my cheek. “You have a little bruise.”
“I have a magazine cover shoot tomorrow.”
“What will you tell them?”
“That I got in a wicked cat fight over an adorable boy.”
“You think I’m adorable?” he asks, his lips moving closer. “Girls don’t usually say that about me.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that. What do they usually say?”
He shrugs, looks shy. “I don’t know.”
“I know what they say, Baylor. They say you’re hot. You’re a Hawthorne. You’re an amazing quarterback. You drive an expensive car. I hear the same things. She’s hot. She’s Tommy Steven’s and Abby Johnston’s daughter. She’s rich. She was nominated for an Academy Award. She blah blah blah. They say things that aren’t so nice too. I think you’re adorable because you were a gentleman who offered me his seat. Because you send me texts that actually have substance and not just ask me what’s up. Because you opened the car door for me. Because you asked my sister what my favorite color was and then went out and bought me flowers. And because I loved the way you held me when we danced.”
