by G. , Whitney
Shelby’s eyes met mine, and she immediately turned away from me.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Ethan did the same, so I sucked up what was left of my dignity and headed to the elevator bank.
The doors glided open, and I stepped onto the car.
Just as they were beginning to shut, an arm slipped between them to force them apart.
“Where the hell are you going?” Ethan stepped inside, smiling. “I’m not sure if the guy who pulled the fire alarm would appreciate you bailing on round two of our prom.”
“I’m going home, Ethan.” I hit the ‘door close’ button, and the elevator began to move toward the lobby. “The place where people don’t treat me like a pariah or ignore me for no reason.”
“What?” He hit the emergency stop button, bringing the car to a halt. “That’s what you think is happening in there?”
“That’s exactly what’s happening, Ethan.” I rolled my eyes. “You should probably go back to the party and stop talking to me. Otherwise, I’m sure they’ll start treating you like a pariah, too.”
“I highly doubt that.” He smiled. “No one can treat Mr. Popular like a pariah. That’s one of the main benefits of being me.”
“Thank you for reminding me exactly why I hate you.”
“You’re welcome.” He laughed and dabbed my eyes with his handkerchief. “I think you’re reading this night in the wrong way, Rachel. Like, I can guarantee you that—”
“Can you please just let me go home and be alone?” I felt my voice cracking. “Like, I know you’re trying to pretend like you’re my friend right now, but I’d honestly prefer if you treated me like your enemy. Like you usually do.”
Silence.
With his eyes on mine, I hit the button and the car began to move again.
“Fair enough.” He let out a sigh. “Since you’re leaving and don’t have a car, how are you planning to get home?”
“I’m going to call my Dad. Worst case, I’ll call Stella.”
“No, don’t bother,” he said. “Let me take you.”
“Ha! Like Shelby would ever be okay with you leaving her here.”
“Shelby is quite pissed at me right now, so I’m sure she’ll appreciate a break.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Want me to take you home, or not?”
“Absolutely.”
* * *
The ride in Ethan’s car was a blur, punctuated by him leaning over and wiping away my tears here or there as he drove.
Right when he was supposed to make a right on Fountain Avenue, toward our block, he made a left instead. He didn’t make a quick turn on any of the back routes, though. He just kept driving.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of The Blue Lake Café and rolled down the windows. He turned on his headlights, so they were shining against the dock of the pier, and then he turned on the song I always played whenever I’d twirled around my bedroom in this prom dress.
Walking over to my side, he opened my door and helped me out of the car.
“Alright,” he said. “Your dream about how your prom night is supposed to go is still the dumbest and most unbelievable shit I’ve ever heard, but I can help you with this part. I’ll take a few pictures if you want, before driving you home.”
“You didn’t have to stop here.” I smiled, not wanting to admit that I was happy he’d remembered my ridiculous fantasy. That my night wasn’t a complete bust. “Thank you, Ethan.”
“For what?”
“For this and the small things you do to help me not forget my mom anytime soon,” I said, feeling tears prick my eyes. “It shouldn’t mean anything coming from you, of course, but it kind of does.”
“It kind of does?”
“Yes, kind of.” I smiled. “I didn’t stutter. Anyway, what did Shelby get mad at you for this time?”
“Nothing major,” he said. “I was just too honest with her, that’s all.”
“How is being too honest a bad thing?”
“If it has anything to do with you…”
I shrugged. “What do you mean?”
A slow smile spread across his lips and he took a small step back.
“She asked me if I liked her dress better than yours,” he said. “But before I could answer that, she asked me—verbatim, if I thought that she looked better than Rachel Dawson tonight.”
“Sure, she did.” I laughed. “You told her yes, right?”
“I would’ve,” he said, looking into my eyes. “But she told me to be one hundred percent honest.”
Silence.
My heart suddenly raced in my chest, and I tried to quickly change the subject—to lighten the mood, but I couldn’t get a single word to fall from my lips.
“Can we have a truce for a few minutes, Rachel?” he asked.
I nodded, still speechless.
“Between you and me, pretty much every fucking guy who was at the prom tonight had his eyes on you. You were hands down, the most beautiful girl there. You were also the best dressed.”
“Don’t try to flatter me.” I felt my cheeks heating. “If that’s even halfway true, how do you explain the fact that no guy asked me to dance? Not one.”
He laughed. “Maybe it was too big of a risk to do so. Maybe they didn’t want to get yelled at by their jealous dates. Take my word for it,” he said. “I got numerous text messages the moment you stepped into that ballroom. Everyone was looking at you.”
I shook my head, not wanting to believe him, but the look in his eyes told me that he wasn’t lying.
“What did the text messages say?” I asked. “And don’t you think that if they were looking at me, that at least one guy would’ve offered to dance with me?”
He didn’t answer my questions. Instead, he moved to his car and turned on the speaker system. Within seconds, a slow song began to play.
Walking over to me, he extended his hand. “I’ll dance with you. Out of extreme pity, of course.”
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll pass.”
“Okay, not pity. Maybe it’s so my prom night doesn’t end without a dance either.”
“You can go back and dance with Shelby.”
“I’d rather wait a while before even thinking about that.” He held out his hand again. “Are you going to dance with me, or not?”
I hesitated, and he laughed.
He slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, before I could reject his offer. Then he started swaying me to the slow beat of the music, and I followed his lead.
Song after song, we stared at each other—never losing rhythm as we matched step for step. In the middle of my favorite song, he slid his right hand from around me and gently clasped my fingers—allowing me to twirl and spin back into him.
“You know that this dance never happened, right?” I asked, as a new song started.
“Of course.” He smiled. “I have no idea what dance you’re talking about.”
“Good. You should also know that I’m not sleeping with you afterward.”
“I’ve told you that I don’t fuck virgins.” He suddenly dipped me, holding me low for several seconds. “Seeing as though you’ll probably be one until you’re eighty years old, I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about that.”
We both laughed, and he brought me back up.
He held me close for the next two songs, stopping at every chorus to spin me away and bring me back into him. He kept his eyes on mine, and I couldn’t look away from him if I tried.
For some strange reason, I wanted him to kiss me right here and now. To take me down against the pier and own my mouth with his.
Snap out of it, Rachel. It’s Ethan. Just Ethan.
The sounds of the latest song softened, and I cleared my throat. “You know, I’m starting to wonder how Shelby feels about you leaving her at the prom alone. I’m sure she’ll find a way to make a bunch of drama about it the moment you go back.”
He stopped swaying me, completely let
ting me go. “Shelby is literally the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Really? Then what are you thinking about?”
He didn’t answer, he just stared at me.
Before I knew it, his lips were pressed against mine, and my arms were wrapped around his neck.
With our mouths greedily fighting for control, he stumbled backward onto the hood of his car—pulling me right on top of him. He was kissing me like he needed me, like this was the last kiss he’d ever get, and I melted into him.
Letting him take the lead, I moaned as he caressed my hips, as he slowly tugged at the zipper on the side of my dress. I tightened my grip on his hair as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, as he gently bit down on it.
“Ethan…” I whispered.
As he was deepening our kiss, I felt his cock hardening against my thigh. My skin was heating under the command of his delicate touches, and I couldn’t help but moan against his lips.
I felt more turned on than ever, more turned on than when I’d been with anyone else.
I didn’t want him to ever stop kissing me, to ever stop showing me that I had this type of effect on him.
Moving his hand up to my head, he loosened the elastic band from around my bun and let my hair fall to my shoulders.
“Rachel…” he said softly.
“Yes?”
He didn’t answer. He started kissing me again, but it didn’t last as long this time.
It was cut short by an abrupt stop of the music. Then the sound of the most annoying bell chime ringtone I’d ever heard cut through the air. The ringtone he’d selected for Shelby.
Ethan slowly let me go, and I stumbled backward—stunned at what the hell had just happened. At how, in that one moment, if he’d attempted to take things a bit further, I might’ve let him.
What the hell was that? And where the hell did that come from?
Keeping his eyes on mine, he sat up a bit and answered his phone. Then I heard a raspy female voice coming through his speakers.
“Where the hell are you, Ethan?” Shelby shouted. “And why the hell aren’t you running back to apologize for what you said? Like, I’ve given you a full hour to get your shit together, and you have yet to say sorry for making me so fucking mad! Do I need to go home with someone else after tonight’s prom? Is that what you want?”
He stared at me as she continued to rant. Then he slowly moved closer—pressing his forehead against mine and running his fingers through my hair.
I felt my heart racing a mile a minute, felt the sudden urge to press my lips against his again. I was confused and aroused all at once, and I didn’t want to think about any potential consequences; I just wanted to go back to where we were sixty seconds ago.
“Ethan!” Shelby’s voice came through his phone’s speaker again. “Ethan, give me the apology I deserve right now, and tell me when you’re coming back to pick me up. Ethan?”
Without answering any of her questions, he ended the call and turned off his phone.
“Since this night never happened…” he said, still running his fingers through my hair. “Do you want to spend the rest of it with me?”
“Ethan Wyatt…” I swallowed. “Are you seriously insinuating sex right now?”
“No.” His lips curved into a smile. “I’m seriously insinuating dinner.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “That’d be nice. What about letting me drive us there?”
“Hell no,” he said, laughing—breaking whatever spell we were previously under. He stepped back, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
Walking over to my side of the car, he opened the door and waited for me to take a seat. “I’ll let you pick the restaurant. Nothing too nice, though.”
“Why not?” I buckled my seatbelt. “If you were planning to take Shelby to someplace amazing, I think you can afford to take me.”
“I was planning to take her to a cheap pancake spot,” he said. “That, or a fast food place. Even though she’s throwing a fit right now, you know damn well that we really don’t care about each other like that. She just wants me to play along and act like I do.”
“Of course.” I laughed. “I don’t think you really care about anyone.”
“I do care about someone.” He shut my door and walked over to his side. Putting the car in gear, he drove onto the road.
“Oh yeah?” I said, not wanting to let that subject go. “Who is this ‘anyone’ you care about all of a sudden?”
He looked over at me and shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Are you sure?” I playfully punched his shoulder. “Try me.”
“I just tried to…” he said under his breath, and then he turned up the radio. “Which restaurant are we going to?”
Track 33. Forget You, Rachel
Rachel
“I just tried to…”
I couldn’t stop crying. I wiped tears away for what felt like forever, feeling my heart race as memories of that night flooded my brain. Then I raced through the remaining fourteen chapters, reading them faster than I’d ever read anything before. When I reached the epilogue, I had to force myself to stop.
He didn’t say that I had to read the epilogue. I need to save something for myself.
I returned to a section that I wanted to reread once more, paying special attention to lines I never knew. It was the last paragraph in the chapter about our senior year in high school, and I couldn’t help but stare at it for a very long time.
I never told Rachel why I did what I did in that bathroom—why I told that guy that she was a slut, while she was in earshot. I tried to convince myself that it was because she wouldn’t believe me.
To this day, it’s my biggest regret. I should’ve gone to her house later, sat her down, and told her the entire story. Because even then, I had feelings for her. I just didn’t think I was ready for them.
“Um, Rachel?” The sound of someone saying my name made me shut the binder and look up, right into a spotlight.
How the hell is it this late already?
“Are you okay? You look distraught,” the voice spoke again, and I blinked a few times. Then I looked to my left and saw one of the ship’s female supervisors.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I was just reading.”
“Well, when you get done ‘just reading,’ you can write your professor a letter about why you decided to skip her class today.” She shook her head and thrust a yellow post-it in my face. “After you deal with this, of course. The lead counselor received this for you a few minutes ago.”
A woman named Stella has an emergency message for you. Wants you to video/Skype her ASAP.
Feel free to use extra satellite minutes, if need be.
I immediately stood to my feet. Grabbing the binder and the extra sheets, I rushed down the hall and took the elevator to the eighth deck. With my mind racing a mile a minute, I tried not to panic, but all types of thoughts crossed my mind.
Please don’t let anything happen to my dad. Please, please, please.
I took a seat at a computer and typed in the passcode, nervously tapping my fingers as the internet connection slowly dialed.
Once it was set, I opened Skype and dialed Stella’s number.
It rang once. It rang twice.
The screen blurred, and she and my father appeared.
“Hey, there, Rachel!” they said in unison, waving.
“Hey.” I let out a sigh of relief. “What’s going on? Are you sick, Dad? Are you losing the house? Filing for bankruptcy?”
The two of them exchanged glances and burst into loud laughter.
“Oh god, Rachel.” He held a hand against his chest. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“This note,” I said, holding it up. “It said you had an emergency message for me.”
“We said it was urgent, not an emergency.” He wiped away a few stray tears. “No one is dying, and no one is losing anything.”
“Then what’s the message?”
“We just want you to know that we’ve talked to Ethan,” he said, smiling.
“I’m aware of that.” I blinked. “We were skyping the two of you like five days ago, remember?”
“Right.” He smiled even wider, looking like a little kid. “Well, we were planning to meet you two at the next port, but they’ve grounded outgoing flights to our layover city for the rest of the weekend. We’ll have to figure out where we can meet you next. Just know that everything is fine, as long as you tell us everything later. Oh, and make sure you tell him that we love him.”
I said nothing. I just stared at them. If there was ever an award for the most pointless phone call, this was definitely in the running for a spot in the top five.
“Was there anything in this call for me, Dad?” I tilted my head to the side. “You know, your daughter?”
“We love you, too.” He laughed. “Oh, and I’m still putting your next care package together. It should meet you within two ports.”
“Thank you,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Remind me to sit you and Stella down when I get home, so we can talk about what the word ‘urgent’ means.”
He laughed louder and blew me a kiss before ending the call.
Before I could even begin to process what the hell that was about, my Skype account beeped with a new call from Penelope.
Answering it, I smiled as her face appeared on the screen.
“Hey there, Rach!” She placed her hand against her chest. “I’m so glad I caught you! Did I miss it? Give me all the details!”
“Miss what?” I shrugged. “What details?”
“We haven’t missed it.” Greg appeared onscreen next to her and kissed her cheek. “I told you she would call you when it happened.”
I gave them a blank stare.
“We’re talking about um—Forget You, Rachel,” Penelope said. “We loved it, but we wanted to get your reaction. He emailed us about finally making you finish it.”
“It’s good,” I said.