Power

by Jillian Dodd

  If there’s one moment in my life I wish I could take back and do over, it’s the moment I told him I was going to Princeton.

  I tried to forget Riley.

  I tried to move on, but spent most of my summer in tears.

  If it weren't for Collin, I don't know that I would have made it. He was there. Told me everything I needed to hear and made me believe I did the right thing.

  But I'd still cry myself to sleep. The ache in my heart so deep.

  About six months later, I looked up Riley’s profile. His cover photo was all of them on the beach. Aiden and Keatyn, Brooklyn and his girlfriend, Maggie and Logan, Dallas and RiAnne, and Riley with his arm wrapped around a gorgeous blonde in a skimpy bikini. His profile picture was him under the Hollywood sign, wearing sunglasses and holding his arms out wide—like he had made it. He looked happy. He was fine without me. I started to wonder if my dad was right. If we wouldn’t have lasted anyway.

  The next day I told Collin we could make it official. I would be his girlfriend.

  But then when my wedding came . . .

  “Ariela? Is that you?” I hear Riley’s voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” he asks me.

  “I’m remembering, Riley.”

  “Me too,” he says somberly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You're sorry?”

  “Yeah. Looking back, there are a lot of things I should have done differently. I shouldn't have expected you to give up your dream of going to Princeton. I shouldn't have assumed you could just ditch your family —go against their wishes—to come with me. I was cocky and selfish. But god, Ariela, I loved you. All I could think about was being with you. Always. I thought we'd get married and live happily ever after. It all caught me so off guard. If you would've just talked to me.”

  “I tried.”

  “That’s the thing, Ariela. I don’t remember you trying. Did I just not want to hear it? Did I dismiss it?”

  “No, I couldn’t do it. Couldn't even bring myself to say it.”

  “I knew something was bothering you. I asked you if you were okay. You weren't eating.”

  “I was a wreck inside. I was overwhelmed.”

  “And I thought I had everything figured out.”

  I smile at him and chuckle. “You've never lacked for confidence, Riley.”

  “I didn’t tell you the complete truth before when you asked why I’m here. I’m not just remembering, Ariela. I think I'm healing.”

  “You are? How? I thought I'd come here and get closure, but I'm not. It's not closing anything. It’s like it’s opening me back up. My heart. My mistakes. It all feels so fresh here.”

  “And painful,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  He opens his arms and I fall into them.

  He holds me close and whispers, “How long have you been here?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Where else have you been?”

  “Just here, Riley. This is the first place I came. It’s where we'd dream. Remember how we’d lay on a blanket, look at the stars, and plan our future? The future I ruined.”

  “I got here last night. The first place I went was the spot under the tree outside the auditorium.”

  Tears fill my eyes. “Oh, Riley.”

  “Yeah. But then we went to the game. And there was this cheerleader who had the number twelve on her face. And then, I don't know, something changed. I started remembering all the fun we had. Not just you and me, but all of us. At Stockton’s. At lunch. At The Cave. Dances. I had turned off all the good memories because they were too painful. But here, I was overloaded with them. Everywhere I turned, a memory. And tonight I realized something. It wasn't just your fault. So I’m letting it all go. I forgive you, Ariela.”

  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 th
ere, 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 wer
e 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.”