Sincerely, Yours

by G. , Whitney

“Girlfriends?”

  “Yeah.” I realized we still weren’t attempting to address what we were. “What about that nice grove where you took Sarah? Oh! And didn’t you take Emily to that old train station? I remembered you telling me you loved that, so maybe there? Or what about where you took—”

  “Stop.” He leaned over and pressed his finger against my lips. “You know how we’ve somehow adopted the unspoken rule that we’re not telling anyone that we’re having sex, how we’re continuing to hang out with our other friends—pretending like we’re not fucking each other recklessly every night?”

  I nodded, unable to keep the redness on my cheeks from forming.

  “Okay,” he said, lowering his voice. “Well, even though I tell you everything—and I do mean everything, I have a new, unspoken rule of my own: the last thing I honestly want to do when I’m out with you is talk about what I did with someone else. So, whenever we’re together, from here on out, we’re not going to talk about anyone outside of us. Okay?”

  I blushed again. “Okay.”

  He drove out of my neighborhood and onto the main streets, holding my hand in his lap.

  “What time does the docking section of the pier normally close?”

  “Midnight, sometimes one o’clock, if the employees feel like it.”

  As we approached a red-light, he looked over at me. “Well, since you work at the marina—”

  “Worked.” I cut him off. “I think I got fired today.”

  “What? How do you ‘think’ you got fired?”

  “It was my turn to take a break first for a change and I took it. I just never went back.”

  Laughing, he squeezed my hand. “Good for you. I was actually going to ask if you’d ever been on one of your company’s boat tours.”

  “No,” I said. “Ironic, huh?”

  “Very, and I think we should fix that. Would you like to go on one?”

  I nodded and he made a U-turn—speeding off into the night toward the other side of town. When we got there, we had to rush to the box office to buy tickets before they closed.

  I silently thanked God that neither my manager nor Ashley were working tonight. Instead, it was the tour guide himself, and since it was raining, he said we would be the only people aboard.

  Undaunted by the small audience, he recited the trivia enthusiastically as the boat sailed across the dark Atlantic. He even gave us free drinks during the lags when there wasn’t much to say, acknowledging that most of his jokes were terrible, but we laughed anyway.

  Carter’s arm went around my shoulder halfway through the tour and remained there for the rest of the ride. And every now and then, for no reason at all, he would tilt my chin up and kiss my lips for several minutes at a time.

  “And now …” The tour guide said, as the captain steered the boat near a small island of lights. “This is Infinity Island. In the daytime, you’d normally be able to see people out and about and lounging on the sand, but it’s too dark now.” He looked at his watch. “I usually pause the tour here and let the tourists get up and take pictures for about twenty minutes before the next stop.”

  Carter and I exchanged confused glances.

  “So, for my OCD purposes, I’m still going to have the captain stop here.” He laughed. “Feel free to tour the boat and be back in twenty for the rest.” He put down his mic and took out an e-reader, speaking into the small radio that was attached to his jacket. “Twenty-minute stop, Barney. Three more stops and then we’re done for the night.” He held the reader up to his face and ignored us.

  “Okay.” Carter took my hand and stood up. “Maybe you can give me a tour of the boat?”

  “You’d probably know more than I do. I have no idea where anything is.”

  “They didn’t teach you anything about the boat itself in your orientation?”

  “They probably did, but I’m pretty sure I was reading a cooking magazine instead of the information manual that day.”

  Laughing, he pressed his hand against the small of my back, and we walked up to the top level where there was no covering. The rain was still falling—drizzling slightly, and we couldn’t see anything in the distance.

  I took out my phone and handed it to him. “Would you mind taking a picture of me? I want to remember this.” I stepped in front of the railing.

  “Night vision?”

  “Yep.” I smiled, holding it for the camera, but his finger didn’t press the button. He was staring at me, looking confused. “Um …” I said. “Do I need to explain how a cell phone works? Have you forgotten?”

  “No.” He walked over to me and pulled me against his side. Then he held the camera above us. “Let me know when to press the button. I want to remember this, too.”

  “Oh …” I smiled. “On three. One … Two … Thr—”

  He kissed my lips and snapped the photo at the same time.

  “Is that good enough?” he asked, handing my phone back to me.

  “No.” I was still smiling. “I think I need a few more of those before we go back.”

  “Photos or kisses?”

  “Both.”

  He pulled me close again and took three more, and then he led me toward the other side of the ship—where there was an antique style café. I thought he was going to open the door, so we could take pictures inside, but he didn’t.

  Instead he grabbed my hands and held them above my head, pushing me against the door with his hips.

  “We have ten minutes before we have to get back.” He dipped his head to my neck and gently bit my skin. “Do you think they’ll mind if we take a little longer?”

  I murmured “No …” as he looked into my eyes, as he slowly hiked up my dress and made love to me against the door. Softly. Gently. Less reckless than before.

  I screamed his name across the darkness, coming apart in his arms, and he took his time kissing me again and again, until I felt like going back for the rest of the tour.

  The boat had already started to move, and the tour guide didn’t seem to mind how late we were when we rejoined him downstairs. By the way Carter pulled me into his lap and kissed me for the rest of it, I was sure that he knew what we’d been up to.

  When we arrived back to the pier, we walked along the beach and talked for hours about absolutely nothing. I didn’t want our conversation to end, but as the sun rose, I could feel myself getting tired, so he picked me up (tossed me over his shoulder) and took me home.

  As if that date sealed it, the next few nights weren’t even a question. He texted me and told me what time he was picking me up, and we went out together. Still uncomfortable showing affection in front of people we knew, we saved those moments for when we were alone, and our friends never knew anything different.

  The things we normally did together felt new and exciting, no matter how hard we tried to pretend like they were the same. Those “you can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch” courtesies were now completely invalid; even though we always ended up in each other’s arms at some point in the night, we never discussed it in the morning.

  I was pretty sure I loved him, and not in the way I loved him before.

  This was different. This was “I needed to have him every hour of the day,” “be around him whenever I could”, and “do whatever I could to have him” type of way.

  From the way he looked at me, I could tell he felt the same.

  Track 18. Crazier (3:08)

  Carter

  Subject: OMG! GREAT NEWS!

  Meet me at the pier at noon today. At that new sub place. I have something to show you.

  Prepare your eyes!

  Ari

  Subject: Re: OMG! GREAT NEWS!

  I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen it. Several times, last night, the night before, last week …

  Sincerely, Carter

  SUBJECT: Re: Re: OMG! GREAT NEWS!

  This isn’t related to sex, thank you very much.

  Hurry up.

  Ari.

  An hour later
, I spotted Ari in front of the sub shop, waiting for her to turn around and notice me. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and her brown eyes were gleaming against the bright sunlight.

  “Took you long enough.” She looked me over. “I see you decided to actually wear a shirt today.”

  “Only because you told me this meeting wasn’t related to sex.” I almost pulled her into my arms for a kiss, but I held back. I still wasn’t sure what the hell was happening between us, and even though we were more than intimate now, we had yet to show any public displays of affection; wasn’t sure what that would mean, if I initiated it.

  “Do you want me to tell you the news out here or over lunch?” she asked.

  “Over lunch.” I motioned for her to follow me inside the sub shop and we took a seat in the back.

  The waitress quickly took our orders, and promised to be back in less than ten minutes.

  “So …” Ari said, smiling. “I actually have three sets of news, and I’m going to let you pick which one—”

  “You look really fucking beautiful today.” I cut her off, looking at her and wondering why I’d never seen just how stunning she was before. “Really fucking beautiful.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.” She was silent for a while before speaking again. “You want the good news, the bad news, or the great news first?”

  “Bad news.”

  “I ran into your ex, Emily, about half an hour ago and she yelled at me in front of everyone at the supermarket.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That she hates me, she hates you, she hates your tiny little cock.”

  “Is it tiny to you?”

  Her cheeks reddened, but she ignored my question. “She said that if we ever end up together, that she will personally crash our wedding. With a personal army of cats, I’m sure.”

  I laughed. “What about the good news?”

  “She tried to punch me and I took her down.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Of course not.” She scoffed. “Security took her down, but I did try.” She smiled at the waitress as she set down our sandwiches.

  “Do I even want the great news?”

  “The phenomenal news, excuse me.” She pulled a folded envelope from her pocket and slid it across the table. “Open it.”

  I set down my napkin and pulled out the paper—reading a brief letter from Collège Culinaire de France.

  “They are deeply sorry for the enormous error in the processing of your previous application and would be delighted and honored to have you in their newest cohort of classically trained chefs,” I read, genuinely happy for her.

  “Read the rest.” She beamed. “That’s not even the best part.”

  I looked over it and summarized it aloud. “Since there was a mistake and this is short notice, based on your talent and recommendation letters, they’re offering you a full scholarship, if you confirm.

  She practically squealed.

  “Congratulations. I’m very happy for you.” I started to hand the paper back to her until my eyes caught the bolded line at the bottom. “It says you’ll need to arrive there June 16th, though. Is that right?”

  She nodded, still smiling.

  “That’s two weeks from now, Ari.”

  “What?” Her smile slowly faded and she snatched her letter back. “No, it’s not. It’s …” She read the letter again and again. “I was reading it so fast when I got it this morning. I could’ve sworn it said July.”

  “And it’s an eighteen-month program with no extended breaks?” I read more of the fine print. “You only get five approved holidays. The first approved holiday is in six months.”

  Her eyes met mine and neither of us said anything for a while.

  I stood up and moved to her side of the booth. Her fingers effortlessly entwined with mine under the table, and I looked into her eyes.

  “We’ll make the most of it.”

  Track 19. I’m Only Me When I’m With You (2:22)

  Arizona

  Two weeks might as well have been two seconds, and I was starting to wish that I hadn’t emailed the French school with an all caps “YES” before meeting with Carter. I’d been so caught up in the moment, so elated that my dream of studying under the best was coming true, that I hadn’t thought of what that would mean for us.

  Whatever “us” was anyway.

  We’d spent every waking moment together for the past several days. He helped me shop and get what I needed for the trip—even buying me a new suitcase and volunteering to ship whatever couldn’t fit. We’d taken advantage of each other’s bodies too many times to count, and most of our mornings were spent walking alongside the shore.

  For years, I’d never understood what it meant when people said they felt like laughing and crying at the same time, until now.

  * * *

  I was standing in Margaritaville, waiting on Carter to return with our drinks and I was trying to hide the fact that I was a cesspool of emotions.

  “Something wrong?” Carter handed me a beer.

  “No. Just wondering why we always promise to come here last, yet we always end up here first.”

  “Bad habit.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What’s really wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I lied. “Nothing at all.”

  “Carter! Arizona!” Josh walked over, clearly buzzed within an inch of his life. “What are you two doing here? No, wait. Don’t answer that.”

  “You guys want to bar hop with us?” the girl hanging on his shoulder asked. “We’re going to head down to 13th Street and try to make it back down here within two hours.”

  “All cover charges are on me!” Josh made an offer we couldn’t refuse.

  We left the bar, walking through the city’s balmy night air. I shivered when we made it several blocks down and immediately felt Carter placing his blazer over my shoulders.

  “You know what’s going to be funny five to six years from now?” Josh asked as we stood in line at Club Red.”

  “What?”

  “When one of you gets married. If it’s you, Carter, you’re going to have to explain to your wife that wherever Ari goes, you go. And I’m not sure if she’s going to take that very well.”

  “Okay.” Carter shook his head. “Just how many drinks have you had tonight?”

  “I’m practically sober.” Josh laughed. “But seriously though. Now that we’re done with college and out in the real world, just think about that. I seriously don’t think you two going to singles clubs together is going to be a good move anymore.”

  “You two aren’t a couple?” His date spoke up. “Didn’t I see you two at the EPIC house party together?”

  “No, no, no,” Josh said. “They’re together wherever they go. Don’t even try to question anything. It’s the weirdest friendship I’ve ever seen, so just roll with it like I do. Guess what the best part about it is, though?”

  “What?” She looked utterly intrigued.

  “They’ve never even thought about crossing the line,” he said. “Known each other since fifth grade—”

  “Fourth grade,” I corrected him.

  “Okay, fourth grade,” he said. “Yet they’ve never even so much as kissed each other. If I was a sap and they weren’t my friends, I’d actually think the idea is kind of sweet.”

  “It is!” She laughed. “Okay, I must have seen two other people all over each other at the party. That’s cool. Strictly friends, minus the attraction? I like that.”

  “I like it, too.” Josh said. “Let me know if one of your spouses ever tries to claim you’re cheating via a divorce. I’d be more than happy to volunteer to be your lawyer.”

  “Thanks.” We managed in unison.

  Josh handed the bouncer a twenty, and after the man checked all of our IDs, we headed straight for the bar. Josh started a tab and encouraged us to “live it up,” and I realized why he was being so generous: 1) He’d been accepted to intern at the number one law firm in t
he city; 2) He was trying to get laid. ASAP.

  From the looks of things, it was definitely going to happen.

  The four of us moved from club to club—drinking, laughing, dancing recklessly. Every now and then, I felt Carter’s not-so-subtle touches in public: His hand on my hips whenever I danced, his fingers brushing against mine whenever we walked. And each time our eyes met, I felt my heart flip, felt it beat at a faster pace.

  By the time we reached the seventh bar, Josh and his date had long abandoned us, and we were tossing back weak shots alone.

  “You have to tilt your head back, Ari.” Carter tilted my chin up. “Otherwise you won’t get the full effect of the liquor.”

  “I’m knocking back cranberry juice.” I laughed. “There is no effect.”

  “All of those are cranberry juice?”

  “Yeah. Someone has to drive.” I pointed to the three large drinks in front of him. “We can’t both be inebriated.”

  He looked at me a long time, slowly shaking his head. “They’re all cranberry juice as well.”

  “You’re not drunk? Not tipsy in the slightest?”

  “No.”

  “Then, since Josh left us, are you ready to go?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He stood up and took my hand, leading me out and down the street. “My place or yours?”

  “Yours.” I clasped his hand behind the gear shift and we rode to his place in silence.

  When he pulled into the driveway, he looked over at me. “What time is your flight Friday?”

  “Ten in the morning,” I said, knowing he already knew the answer to that question.

  “What day are you unpacking everything and repacking it with a spreadsheet?”

  I smiled. “Tomorrow.”

  “Will you need help?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay.” He cut off the engine. “I’ll be there.”

  Silence.

  He got out of the car and opened my door, leading me inside his house for what was probably the last time this summer. When we made it to his room, I took off the blazer he’d given me and opened my purse.