by Whitney G.
Maybe a letter from him would help me get a scholarship?
I glanced at my watch and realized I had three hours to get ready for the college I was actually paying to attend; my graduation ceremony was today.
Track 3. All Too Well (3:42)
Yep…I definitely picked the wrong career path for my life…
I was officially convinced that Reeves University officials had held a secret meeting dedicated to listing the many ways that they could make this year’s ceremony the most boring yet.
Everything from the twenty minute organ prelude to induct the doctorates, to the thirty minute video that recapped the university’s best features, to the fact that they’d booked five different speakers.
I’d sat through nearly all of them, scrolling through social media newsfeeds and twiddling my thumbs, but the fourth speaker of the day had definitely mastered the art of sounding as monotonous as possible. Every other line was “And then I remember,” “I wish I’d known,” or “I’m not making this up, kids…Hahaha.”
There was never any laughter from the audience afterwards. Only silence. And snores.
I covered my mouth so I could yawn yet again, and the girl sitting next to me stretched out her arms and rested her head on my shoulder. Without my permission.
“Um...” I looked at her.
“Yes?” She looked right back at me.
“Um…Do I even know you? Why would you just lay on me?”
She blinked.
“No, really. Why are you laying on me?”
“Shhh!” She adjusted her position and shut her eyes.
I was tempted to jerk away and leave her hanging, but I decided to make the most out of the situation. I looked at the girl to my left—at the vacant shoulder that was calling my name, and leaned onto it.
Several minutes later, and once the speaker said he was “almost done” for the umpteenth time, my phone vibrated with a text from my mom.
I’m sorry, hon, but I can’t sit through another second of this. I got plenty of pictures of you walking across the stage, though! Oh! And I got a lot of you at the department ceremony earlier! I’ll see you at home for your party! I’m making crab-cakes! Be there by seven!
You’re my mother and you’re leaving my college graduation EARLY? Really?
I actually wanted to leave TWO HOURS AGO, but because I’m your mother I stayed a little longer. Love you!
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t blame her. I texted, “Love you too, see you soon,” and looked up into the arena. Some members of the audience were getting the exact same idea.
Hell, even some of the graduates were feeling the same way. The ones that still had the energy to get up, that is.
Before I could figure out what I wanted to do, my phone vibrated once more. Carter.
Are you awake right now?
I am.
I texted back.
I’m finding this speech quite inspiring. If you try to pay attention, you might learn something today.
Bullshit. What is this guy even talking about?
I listened to the speaker for a few minutes, honestly not understanding why he was now talking about a dead goldfish, but I pretended I did anyway.
He’s talking about taking chances, trying scary risks, and learning that just one of them is bound to pay off.
You’re so full of it, Ari. You should leave.
I want to listen to the rest.
Then I hope you have another way to get to your graduation party since I just saw your mom leave…
What? I don’t remember rushing you out of YOUR college graduation. I sat through the entire thing!
I wasn’t depending on you for a ride home . You’ve got five minutes.
I’ll meet you there in ten.
I gently pushed my neighbor off my shoulder and stood up.
“Sometimes, you just have to stay until the end,” the speaker said a little louder, louder than he’d been for his never-ending speech. “I wish I would’ve stayed until the end of a lot of speeches when I was younger…I definitely wished I would’ve listened to the entire speech at my college graduation…”
What? I turned around, looking to see if he was not-so-subtly referring to me.
He was. He nodded and gestured for me to return to my seat.
“You never know what you’ll miss out on…” he said.
I took a step back.
“This could be the most important speech of your life…”
I took another step back.
“And you might regret it for the rest of your—”
I turned around and rushed out of the room, hearing the laughter and applause of my classmates behind me. When I made it to the hallway, I looked back to see other students following my lead and joining the exodus.
College was officially over…
I took off my cap and gown and met Carter in the parking lot. “Since you made me leave early, you have to stop at Gayle’s before we go to my graduation party.”
“Do we have to sit inside?”
“I’m shocked you even have to ask…” I got into the car and he let the top down on his black Camaro—quickly speeding away to the diner.
Gayle’s was the number one waffle house and sweets company on the beach. It was so popular that the company bought mobile-store trucks and drove them around campus during its season.
The menu wasn’t anything special; it was beyond simple with its typical home-style American breakfast fare. What set it apart from anywhere else was the 1950s atmosphere and the undeniable this-shit-is-the-best-I’ve-ever-had-in-my-life waffle recipe. For years, the locals jokingly accused them of using crack in their batter to get people to come back so often, so the owner started boxing the batter in tins with the word “CRACK” written right on front.
Gayle’s was also the only restaurant that had a ten page menu solely dedicated to their desserts, and they added new options and concoctions every week.
I’d pulled countless all-nighters, hosted several dates, and even held a birthday party there before. But no matter what, it was where me and Carter met up whenever life veered left and we needed to talk, or whenever there was nothing else better to do.
We met there so often that sometimes his other friends would simply show up if they needed him instead of calling him on the phone.
“Let me guess,” the waitress rolled in front of us on her white skates as soon as we entered. “A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips for one order, and a waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and candy on the side for the second order?”
We both nodded. We ordered the exact same thing every time we came here.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be right with you.”
We took a seat in a booth by the bay windows—in perfect view of the tourists who were starting their annual takeover of the beach.
“I’m going to miss this so much…” I said. “If I don’t get into anywhere else soon, I’ll have to accept the offer from that culinary school in Cleveland. I don’t think they have a beach, though…Or a restaurant that’s similar to this one.”
“They don’t have much of anything. It’s Cleveland.”
I laughed. “Just try not to rub it in since you’re lucky enough to be staying here for law school.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you ocean-view pictures every day.”
“Here you two are.” The waitress set down our orders and I swiped a spoonful of yogurt from Carter’s plate.
“Ugh!” I swallowed it. “How can you eat that? The words ‘chocolate’ and ‘yogurt’ should never be allowed anywhere near each other.”
He swiped a spoonful of my vanilla yogurt in return. “It’s not like vanilla is that much better. There’s no flavor in that whatsoever.”
I shrugged and picked a few Oreos from his toppings cup while he picked a few strawberry chips from mine.
As I was stealin
g one of his peanut butter swirls, a few members of his college basketball team walked inside—super loud and obnoxious. Spotting Carter, they immediately walked over and shook his hand—asking a few brief questions, leaving Carter plenty of room to congratulate them on a hard fought season. Plenty of time for them to reminisce on his short-lived, yet high-profile freshman season.
The team had actually been quite terrible this year, posting the worst record in all of college basketball. And although his former teammates would never say it to his face, I’m sure they wondered if he’d lied about his diagnosis years ago, if he used his sudden ACL injury as an excuse to walk away from everything.
“Do you miss it?” I asked, after they’d said their goodbyes.
“I miss the groupies.”
“You still have groupies. Just a different type.”
“Well, in that case…” His eyes followed the team out of the store. “I never did appreciate other people unloading their expectations onto me when I had my own. So, no. I don’t miss being a part of that at all.”
“Totally understand. Speaking of which, when it comes to things we miss and don’t miss…” I took out my phone and pulled up my secret “Long-term Relationship Compatibility” spreadsheet. I never told Carter it actually existed because I was sure he’d find a way to get me to delete it.
“What is one thing you wish you could’ve done differently in regards to your relationship with Emily?” I asked.
“I wish I’d never met her.”
“Come on…” I started to type. “This always helps me know what not to do in my next relationship, so I’ll go first. In me and Scott’s case, I could’ve tried to talk to him about my reservations about intimacy a lot sooner.”
“No, you could’ve tried fucking.”
“And you could’ve tried barking.” I snapped. “Maybe then Emily’s meowing wouldn’t have seemed so weird if you’d given it a chance.”
“Oh?” He laughed. “Did I just touch a nerve? Are you that sexually frustrated?”
“No.” I tossed a gummy bear at his face. “Although, it would be nice to have some amazing sex before I leave for culinary school.”
“Then have some. I can help you with that.”
“What?” I gave him a death stare. “Not with you. Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m definitely not talking about sex with me.” He stole my last bite of waffle and stood up. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me…”
I rolled my eyes. “Please!”
“Seriously though, I don’t have much to do outside of work for the next few months,” he said, “so I’ll help you find a guy—or two or three, just for sex. As a matter of fact, we’ll start the search tonight right after your graduation party.”
“Are you sure you won’t try to convince me to leave that early, too?”
“Not unless you somehow manage to make me fall asleep.” He laughed and pulled me up, leading me out of the store.
As we sped back across the pier with the sun setting behind us in the distance, I realized I was already starting to miss this part of my life.
Later that night…
I stuffed one last piece of a cupcake into my mouth and gave my mom a hug. “Thank you for throwing me this party tonight.”
“Anything for you.” She hugged me back. “Wait a minute. Where is Scott? Is he coming by later?”
“Yeah, um…We didn’t work out.”
“Aw, sorry, hon.” She gave me a look of sympathy. “You’ll find someone better.”
“I can only hope.” I looked outside the window where the rest of my family was busy taking down lights and table settings. “What do you need me to clean up?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she said. “I threw this party for you, so you don’t have to help at all. Go out with your friends and enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my real mother? The one who has OCD and insists that everything be cleaned within half an hour or less?”
“Hurry up and get out of here before I change my mind.” She laughed and shooed me into the living room, where a few of my classmates were gathering their things and leaving.
On the couch, my former study partner for Logistics, Tina, was running her hand up and down Carter’s arm. Not being subtle at all, she was blushing every other second and smiling the next.
“I’d love to talk to you sometime…” she said to him, biting her cherry red lip.
“I’d love to talk to you, too.” He gave her that stupid, charming grin that apparently had an effect on every woman except me.
I walked around the room and individually thanked all of my classmates for coming, taking a few last selfies with them before they disappeared. I was about to thank Tina, but she suddenly leapt up from the couch and grabbed my hand—pulling me into the guest bathroom.
“Are you in need of a tampon or something?” I asked, confused. “They’re in the bottom left drawer.”
“No.” She smiled. “I wanted to ask you something about your friend.”
“Carter?”
“Yeah.” She lowered her voice as if he was actually in earshot. “Would you be mad if I went out with him?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because, I mean…I personally think you two have probably done stuff in the past and there are some hidden emotions on your part, so—”
“There are no hidden emotions on my part.” I cut her off. “And we have never even so much as kissed. We’ve barely even hugged…How long exactly have you thought that about me?”
“That’s not the point.” She waved off the topic. “The point is, I want to go out with him and I want to make sure it isokay with you since we’re friends.”
We were not friends. We were study partners.
“It’s more than okay with me,” I said. “You don’t really need my permission. How about asking him out and not me?”
“I heard he has a huge cock.” She lowered her voice again. “And that he’s into really dirty and intense sex…Is that true?”
“How the hell would I know?”
“Oh, come on...” She gave me a pointed look. “There’s no way you’ve never copped a feel of his dick or given it a second look…”
“I haven’t.”
Trying to catch me in a lie, she tried the example approach. “He doesn’t even go to our school, Arizona. Yet, I see him on our campus all the time.”
“Are you aware that he’s dated quite a few girls from our school before? That’s another very good reason for that…”
“So, just to be one hundred percent sure, you’re telling me that you two have never sampled each other?”
“Did you really just use the word ‘sampled’ in a sexual context?” I couldn’t believe this. “Look, he and I have never had sex, let alone sampled each other, and you can trust me on this. You can also trust me saying that we never, ever will.”
She looked at me for a few moments, as if she were trying to determine if I was going to somehow take everything back, and then she smiled. “You are too cute!” She hugged me—literally wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me so hard I started to cough. “Quick question, though…I figured you would know. What’s his favorite color?”
“Blue, sea blue.”
“Good to know.” She winked at me as she opened the door. “I’ll keep that in mind for what color thong to wear under my dress whenever he takes me out.”’
There wasn’t an eye roll worthy enough to use for that so I simply smiled and followed her back out to the living room, waiting for her to say a few last words to Carter. She gave him her phone number, whispered something that sounded like, “I can’t wait to fuck you…” into his ear, and gave him one last sultry look before leaving.
“Good party,” Carter said, shutting the door behind her. “What part of the house do you have to clean up before you can leave?”
“None. My mom said I didn’t have to help. She said I should just enjoy my night.”
“There’s no way she said that.” He leaned against the wall. “Tell me so I can help you clean whatever it is. If we hurry up and get it done we can start your sex victim search long before last call.”
“I was being serious, Carter!” My mom called from the kitchen. “You both can get out now!”
He didn’t question it any further. “Bar crawl?”
“Absolutely.” I walked outside and hopped into his car, changing the radio station and answering a few of his questions about Tina.
As we searched for a parking spot near the pier, I prayed to the Best-Friend-Gods that if he changed his mind and decided to get serious with Tina (or anyone else this summer, for that matter) that she wouldn’t turn out to be another Emily. I couldn’t handle another one of those…
Being his best friend was already tricky territory. All of his girlfriends automatically became suspicious when he introduced us. They smiled at me when he was looking, and glared at me behind his back. And, whenever he was on the phone with me, he always had to go out of his way to say, “No, really. She’s just my best friend…” halfway through the conversation. Usually more than once.
There was almost always an ultimatum in his relationships, too: “Are you dating Arizona or ME?!”
Yet, since we’re indeed “just friends”—just goddamn friends (why couldn’t people see this?!), I had no issues with him falling back or not talking to me as much, because months later, the results were always the same: Another breakup. Another late night phone call to discuss what did or didn’t go wrong. Another brief break until he found the next crazy.
In fact, sometimes I wished I could sit with his next girlfriend and say, “Hey, before you start thinking about doing anything stupid and accusing him of something that has never, and will never happen, here are a few facts that will probably ease your mind:
1) I’m not attracted to him. AT ALL. I don’t get what all the hype is about, sorry.
2) I’m not interested in “fucking him.” AT ALL. I’ve had enough great sex to keep me satisfied, and when I’m not with someone, my vibrator serves me just fine with fantasies of celebrities. NOT HIM. #Truestory. And