Sincerely, Yours

by G. , Whitney

  “I’m glad you came on board, Ethan,” I said softly. “Like, you have no idea.”

  “You tell me this every night.” He smiled, running his fingers through my hair. “Let me ask you something. If I’d stayed in business school, do you think you would have eventually caved in and sent me a letter?”

  “Not until after I’d exhausted every other option.”

  “Please tell me that you didn’t send any pen pal letters to prisoners.”

  “I was one day away from doing that.” I laughed, and he kissed my forehead.

  Rolling me on top of him, he squinted at the clock on the far side of the room.

  “Why are you still wide-awake right now?” he asked. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  “Get your eyes checked,” I said. “It’s three.”

  “Well, that makes it even worse.” He laughed, caressing my sides. “I need to get up in a few hours to work on something important, so I need you to promise me that you’ll go to sleep within the next twenty minutes. If not, I need you to go to your room, so I won’t be tempted to have sex with you again.”

  I blushed and leaned back. “There’s nothing important going on tomorrow, Ethan. No programs, or country customs seminars. We’re having ‘at sea’ days for the rest of the week. What could you possibly need to work on?”

  “Okay, fine.” He pulled me down for a quick kiss, and then he pointed to the door. “You’ve picked your room for the rest of the night. Out, Rachel.”

  “What? You’re seriously putting me out now?”

  “Unless you can promise me that you’ll go to sleep,” he said, looking serious. “Last night, you didn’t promise, and we ended up talking and having sex until ten in the morning.”

  I knew I couldn’t agree to that promise, so I rolled off him and stepped out of his bed. “I’ll see you later this morning when you wake up.”

  “I thought so.” He smiled, and as if he knew how I was about to spend the next few hours, he grabbed his printed Forget You, Rachel binder from his nightstand and handed it to me. “Have you finished reading it yet?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Are you telling me, that after three weeks of begging you to read this, that you’re about to DNF my novel?”

  “Close, but I’m still holding out hope,” I said, smiling. “I’m not sure if I like this author’s writing style yet. I need a few more chapters to be sure.”

  He laughed and gave me one last kiss—making me want to get back in the bed and return to his arms, but I stuck to my guns. After catching my breath, I hit the lights and stepped into the hallway.

  Right outside his door, he’d taped a coffee ship gift ticket with a note.

  For the next time that you sneak out of my bed just to read in the café.

  —Forget You,

  Ethan

  P.S.—Hurry up and finish reading the damn book, please…”

  I smiled as I pulled the card, then I made my way down the hallway and onto the elevator. Before heading to the café, I stepped into the senior lounge and took in the scene from hours earlier, one last time.

  Shattered champagne glasses and beer bottles littered the floor, the scent of buttercream frosting and vanilla cake still filled the air, and the glittering streamers that celebrated the belated occasion, hung high from the rafters.

  Welcome Aboard SAS, Ethan Wyatt!

  I picked up one of the remaining cupcakes and walked up to the lido deck. As I was handing over my gift card to the overnight barista, someone cleared her throat from behind.

  Turning around, I found myself face to face with the redheaded senior who lived right across from Ethan. “Hey, there, Thea.” I smiled. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “It’s become an unfortunate habit,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “Please tell me that you’re staying up here for the next several hours.”

  “Um…yeah?” I grabbed my coffee. “I have a book to finish reading.”

  “Well, isn’t that lovely?” She looked like she was tempted to strangle me, so I took a step back. “So fucking lovely…”

  “Yeah, it is.” I noticed that her eyes were starting to bulge out of her skull, like she was some type of zombie. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” She snatched my half-eaten cupcake from the counter and stuffed it down her throat. “What could possibly be wrong this early in the morning?”

  I gave her a blank stare, tried to think of how to get the hell away from her sudden bout of crazy. “Well, it was nice chatting with you. I hope you—”

  “You know what I hate the most about living on this ship?” She cut me off.

  “No…”

  “Why don’t you take a few guesses, then?”

  I shrugged, giving her my own list. “The slow satellite internet that’s pretty much dial-up speed, the limited bottles of shampoo in the gift shop, or the lack of phone service? Those stress me out the most from time to time.”

  “No, all of that I can easily deal with.” She stepped closer, glaring at me. “The worst part, for me, is that I can’t seem to get any goddamn sleep.”

  That explains this, then. “Really? The sound of the ocean’s waves hitting the window helps me go to sleep every time.”

  “Well, if I could ever hear those waves over you incessantly screaming, ‘Ethannnnn,’ ‘Oh My Goddd,’ or ‘Ohhhh Right Thereeeee,’ perhaps sleep would actually be possible.”

  I felt my cheeks reddening, felt my jaw dropping. “I am…I am so sorry…He’s always told me that I’m not that loud.”

  “He’s lying.” Her roommate, Kristen, stepped onto the deck and rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t think either of us has slept for more than a few hours a night since he got here. I mean, we’re happy someone on this never-ending voyage is getting laid, but you two take things to an entirely different level.”

  “Yeah. So, if you don’t mind,” Thea said, letting out a breath. “Could you let us get some sleep this weekend, or maybe—just maybe—occasionally, take your late-night romps with him to your room on another floor of the ship?”

  I nodded, unsure of what else I could say to that.

  “Thank you so very much.” She walked away, but her roommate lingered behind for a few seconds.

  “Quick question,” she said, lowering her voice. “Does Ethan make you orgasm every time? I mean, it sounds like he does, so can you like, give me some details? I haven’t had an orgasm with my boyfriend during sex yet—well, unless it’s oral, so I’m curious.”

  I gave her a blank stare.

  “Ohhh, I see.” She smiled. “You can only be super vocal when Ethan is inside of you, huh?”

  “Come on, Kristen!” Thea called from the steps. “Let’s get some sleep while we can.”

  Kristen shrugged and walked away, and I made a mental note to tell Ethan about his lie later.

  I carried my coffee and the book binder over to the bow of the ship, and then I propped my feet on the edge of the pool.

  Opening the binder, I flipped to where my bookmark was and stared at the opening lines of chapter twenty-one. I tried to convince myself that it was time to finally read the next twenty chapters, but I couldn’t do it.

  I was stuck in chapter twenty, but it wasn’t because it was awful. It was perfect, and I never wanted the story to stop. I never wanted to reach the two words at ‘the end’ that broke my heart time and time again, so I’d simply reread the same twenty chapters whenever I had the chance.

  The two main characters were undoubtedly us, and reading his words was like reliving the past few years of my life.

  His writing style was all-consuming, and I already knew that I was his biggest fan. The “can’t eat, can’t sleep” hours before his new book goes live type of fan. And if his next book was even half as good as this one, I was certain that I would harass him for sneak peeks as he wrote it.

  Maybe I’ll just read chapters twenty-one and twenty-two today. Maybe get to twenty-five?

&nb
sp; I still couldn’t do it. I flipped back to the beginning of the binder and started reading the book all over again.

  * * *

  Hours later, the sun rose in the distance, and my fingers flipped the page into familiar territory.

  Sighing, I underlined one of my favorite lines. We had three more port cities on this part of the voyage, and I was now convinced that I could read half a chapter a day to make this novel last a little bit longer.

  I was highlighting another one of my favorite quotes, when I heard a familiar deep voice behind me.

  “It only takes you a day to read a book, Rachel,” Ethan said softly, kissing the back of my neck.

  “It only takes me a day to finish the good ones.”

  He smiled, as he moved in front of me. “What are you trying to say?”

  “That you’re a brand-new author, and this is your first book. Maybe you should lower your expectations.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “How far have you gotten?”

  “I’m in chapter twenty.”

  “Okay…” He crossed his arms, and then he laughed. “How many times have you reread those same twenty chapters?”

  “Maybe fifty.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Is there something that I could’ve written better? A part that’s tripping you up somehow?”

  “No, but there are a few inconsistencies,” I said. “For one, I remember our prom night a little differently than you do.”

  “Well, that chapter is in my point of view, so that makes sense.” He smirked. “What else?”

  “The night of the make-up prom isn’t in here,” I said. “You left that part completely out of the story. I feel like you went out of your way to avoid it, and decided to move on to our graduation.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just smiled.

  “I need an explanation,” I said. “Is there any reason you left out that scene?”

  “Yes.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me up. Then he ran his fingers through my hair. “A certain someone told me to forget it ever happened, to never mention it again.” He looked into my eyes. “Didn’t she?”

  I blushed. “Yeah, but that was before. When I wasn’t sure if—”

  He pressed a kiss against my lips, silencing the rest of my sentence. When he finally pulled away from me, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of folded yellow sheets.

  “I wrote it,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it being included. Especially since reading it might force you to admit some things about us and how we really felt about each other at that point in our lives.”

  “I doubt it. I still hated you that night.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said. “I still hated you that night as well.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” I reached up to grab the sheets, but he held them up a bit higher.

  “I’ll only give these to you, if you promise to finish reading the rest of my novel today.”

  “Today?” I couldn’t fathom that. “You could at least give me until the end of next week.”

  “I’ve seen you read a five-hundred-page book in one day,” he said, still holding those scenes high and hostage. “One day. What’s it going to be?”

  I quietly weighed the pros and cons. Agreeing to finish it today meant the next ‘at sea’ days wouldn’t hold the promise of new words. Not finishing it today meant I wouldn’t get the bonus scene.

  “I think you should be nice to your favorite reader and let her have it anyway.”

  “I don’t think so.” He started to step back and place the sheets into his pocket.

  “Ugh, okay. Okay,” I said. “I’ll finish the rest of the book today.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” I nodded, and he handed the sheets to me. Instead of staying still and reading it on the deck, I gave him a quick kiss before rushing back to a private lounge, so I could read it in peace.

  Shutting the door, I cleared a space to devour more of his words.

  I made it through the first lines and was suddenly transported to my high school prom again. Even though it was written in his point of view, I felt like I was reading it in mine…

  Back then: 18 years old

  Rachel

  Whenever I dreamed about my senior prom, I always saw it unfolding in one long, this-is-unrealistic-but-it-can-totally-happen, type of scene.

  It starts with me stepping into a brightly lit ballroom with a gorgeous tuxedoed guy at my side—the type of guy who is capable of making every girl jealous. While everyone stares at us in utter awe, he kisses me like his life depends on it. Within mere seconds, all of the attention in the room is owned by us.

  Seizing the moment, we take to the dance floor and earn a rousing round of applause when he dips me low and brings me up for one final, breathtaking spin.

  And for the rest of the night (and the first time in my high school career), I’m not invisible. I’m more than ‘that girl who lives next door to Ethan.’ More than a nobody.

  At the end of this dream, my date always helps me into his sleek black car and drives me to The Blue Lake Café, where we dance one final time under the twinkling lights. Right when I least expect it, he kisses the hell out of me and leaves me utterly breathless. (In the exact way that my mom always said a ‘perfect prom kiss’ should be.) And the moment my perfect date drops me off at home, I throw my amazing night in Ethan’s face, since I know his sense of a ‘date’ will never compare.

  Welp. So much for that fucking dream…

  At the rate that my reality was going tonight, I was slowly accepting that my dream of an ideal prom was too far-fetched. “Make-up” prom or not, I was starting to wish that ‘someone’ had never pulled the fire alarm at the previous prom, that I’d stayed at home.

  “You’re still standing on the wall?” Ashley Chambers, one of the popular minions, stepped in front of me with a smirk on her lips. “I mean, it’s been over an hour at this point. I just can’t believe that no guy here has asked to dance with you…” She looked me up and down. “It’s almost like your pretty red dress isn’t enough to hide the fact that you’re still one of the biggest losers at this school. How sad.”

  “Is it?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Because I think the fact that your date has no idea that you’ve slept with half the football team is far sadder.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, as her jaw dropped to the floor.

  “Something wrong, babe?” Her date grabbed her waist from behind, and then his eyes met mine.

  “Well, hello…” He let her go and extended his hand to me. “I’m Tyler.”

  “And she’s nobody.” Ashley swatted his hand and shot a look at me. “That’s why she’s here alone.” She led him away, and he glanced over his shoulder, looking me up and down one last time.

  Sighing, I stepped away from the wall and made my way toward the long table of ice sculptures and drinks on the far wall. For whatever reason, the senior class had voted to have all of the ice sculptures carved into the shapes of old school cars and record players.

  “I think this was a cool idea,” I said to the attendant, my former history classmate who was wearing a pretty pink dress. “Don’t you?”

  She rolled her eyes and stamped my wristband, motioning for me to get away from her.

  As I approached the punch bowl and picked up a cup, the group of girls who were in line ahead of me set down their drinks and walked away. Seconds later, the other students walked away as well, leaving me alone. Freezing me out all over again.

  I couldn’t get a single person here to talk to me, and even though I never really fit in, I’d honestly never felt like a pariah.

  Refusing to let anyone see that they were getting the best of me, I tossed back a few cups of punch. I started to make my way to the dance floor, but with every step forward I took, a few couples stepped back and off of the floor. A part of me wanted to believe that this was all in my head, but by the time I was under the gl
ittering banner that hung at the midway point, most of the couples were making their way off the floor.

  What did I do?

  I took a few steps back, and as they all stared at me with their angry faces, I gave the hell up. I rushed off the dance floor and into the hotel’s hallway. Ducking into the closest bathroom, I swallowed the rising lump in my throat and let the tears roll down my face.

  I couldn’t figure out what I’d done to be treated like this. Especially, when nothing had happened this week at school. Some of the same people who’d always given me a stock, “Hey,” or “Hello,” in the hallways, were refusing to make eye contact with me tonight.

  Slowly twirling in front of the mirror, I tried to see if there was a stain I’d missed. That, or some type of ‘Forget Rachel ever existed tonight’ sign that’d been secretly taped onto my back, but there was nothing. The only new things on me were the tears.

  My dreamy red dress was being wasted on a nightmare, and I was certain that the moment I got home, I would be stuffing it into a bag to give away to someone else.

  The door suddenly opened, and one of my art classmates stepped inside. She took one long look at me and rolled her eyes, then she walked out without a single word.

  What the…

  I walked over to the door and opened it, prepared to yell after her. I wanted to ask what was behind all the hatred toward me, but she was long gone.

  Far ahead, in the ballroom, I could see everyone cheering and clapping. It only took me a few seconds to realize why.

  Mr. Popular, a.k.a. Ethan Wyatt, was walking through the entry doors with Shelby on his arm. He parted through his adoring minions like a God, and I rolled my eyes.

  Still, I forced myself to walk back into the room to get a better look at him.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he looked sexy as hell tonight. I wasn’t sure if it was the way the black suit perfectly fit his muscles, the way the soft lights were hitting his bright blue eyes, or the way he was smiling his perfect set of pearly whites, but he looked way hotter than usual. (Well, “hot” for the first time to me. He was still ‘just Ethan’ in my book.)