Sincerely, Carter

by Whitney G.

  “Stop being so nice about telling me I’m a terrible friend.” There was a smile in her voice. “I’ll be over around eight, okay?”

  “Okay…”

  “Wait a minute. Why do you sound like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…Like you’re sad or depressed or something. Are you okay?”

  I slept with Carter…Say it…I. Slept. With. Carter.

  I couldn’t get the words to come out. I wanted to tell her, but a part of me—a very strong part, was telling me to hold back.

  “Arizona?” she asked. “Arizona, are you there?”

  “I’m here. Nothing’s wrong. I just had a long day in culinary class.”

  “Bummer. I forgot about that…Have you seen Carter today?”

  “Yeah, earlier. Why?”

  “Well, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but do you think you could tell him I’m interested and just see what he says?”

  “Um…”

  “Um yes, or um no?”

  Um hell no. “Sure. I’ll tell him that the next time we talk.”

  “Well, in that case I guess I’ll have an answer within twenty four hours!” She laughed. “Oh! Just got a customer. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight!”

  “See you tomorrow at—” The phone beeped before I could finish my sentence.

  I dipped my toes into the ocean a few minutes before deciding to take a trolley straight to Gayle’s. I figured one of their waffles would make me feel ten times better right about now, and maybe even help me think about this situation a little more.

  Especially since Carter won’t be there…

  No, Carter was there.

  As soon as I stepped inside, I spotted him sitting in the back. I debated whether or not I should leave and just wave down one of their mobile trucks, but he suddenly looked up at me.

  I could literally feel myself being pulled toward him, as if I wasn’t in control of my own functions. I took one step, I took two, and before I knew it, I was sitting in front of him.

  Neither of us said a word.

  “I put in your order as soon as I saw you walk through the door!” Our regular waitress walked over with a tray.

  “A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips.” She smiled at me as she set down my usual. “And a waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and gummy bears on the side for you.” She set a plate in front of Carter. “Could you two do me a huge favor and mix it up every now and then? Don’t you get tired of ordering the exact same thing every time?”

  “Could I have an extra waffle today?” Carter smiled. “For free? Will that help?”

  “You’re lucky I actually like you, kid.” She laughed. “I’ll bring it out after I get my next two tables.” She winked at us before walking away.

  “So….” I said, stopping. My first question was always what he did the night before, but I already knew the answer to the question. Me.

  Seemingly picking up on that, he intervened. “Has Nicole sent you her usual, ‘I can’t hang out with you this weekend, but I’ll definitely make it up to you’ text yet?”

  “Not yet. I think she’s going to follow through this time. She said she’s going to buy me lightweight-safe drinks all night tomorrow, and then she wants to hang out at my place afterwards.”

  “You believe her?”

  “I do.” I nodded. “The only thing that shocked me text message wise today was Chris. He asked if we could meet up again this weekend…”

  “I think he really likes you. Are you going to give him a chance and maybe just have sex since that’s all it was supposed to be anyway?”

  “No.” I picked up my fork. “I don’t think I’m capable of having casual sex like you are.”

  He raised his eyebrow.

  “I mean…His strange sex sounds aside, all we had was attraction and sweet kisses, but I need more than that to form a connection. Even if it is only for temporary sex. Besides, it’s not worth starting anything anyway since I’ll be leaving eventually, you know?”

  “Not necessarily. Long distance relationships can work under certain circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “None.” He laughed. “I was just trying to give you a false sense of hope.”

  I smiled and cut my waffle, and for the next hour it was as if things were absolutely normal between us. I was actually convinced that us having sex last night wasn’t going to change us at all.

  When it was time for the bill, Carter covered it as usual and boxed up my leftovers. Unlike usual, he pressed his hand against the small of my back when we stood up, and he left it there until we got to his car—sending my nerves into a frenzy with a simple touch.

  We didn’t talk on the way to my house, and I noticed that he’d neglected to turn on the radio. The only noise between us was the wind and rushing traffic.

  Two stoplights from my block, he finally spoke. “After all these months of stealing classes from the culinary school, they still don’t care that you’ve never paid a dime of tuition?”

  “Shockingly, no. It hit me a few weeks ago that they only call security on me when it’s exam day, and the professors really like me. My passion, anyway. Did I tell you that one of them wrote me a recommendation letter for a few other schools?”

  “No.” He laughed as he pulled over to the curb. “Please tell me that you actually read it and made sure he didn’t say that you’re a thief anywhere inside.”

  “He did not!” I laughed with him, opening my door. “He said I was brilliant and possessed some of the most fervent passion he’d seen in years…He did mention my “creative means” to learn, but there’s no way they’ll equate that to me stealing classes.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “Thanks for the ride.” I shut the door. “I’ll hit you up tomorrow if Nicole bails on me.”

  “She will.”

  “She won’t!” I quickly walked away and rushed inside my house.

  I put my hand over my heart and exhaled; it was racing all over again.

  This was so not good…

  Track 14. Speak Now (3:42)

  I slept late the next day. All day.

  I even called in sick to my part time job at the marina, and let my manager berate me for the umpteenth time. (Something about if I was ever late again or called in sick one more day I would be fired. I didn’t care about the fired part, it was more about losing my boat access pass that I sometimes needed to use when the chefs held classes on Parker Island; private boat fares weren’t cheap.)

  When I’d finally found the motivation to drag myself up, it was six o’clock and I figured I should start getting ready for a night with Nicole. I went downstairs to see what she’d dropped off earlier and found myself standing in a sea of plastic bags—bags full of all types of junk food: Cheetos, chocolate bars, twenty different types of fruity candy, and lots of vodka and beer.

  It was just like Nicole to literally drop something off without thinking about putting it away. By the time I finished stuffing everything into the pantry, it was seven o’clock and she’d sent me a text:

  Soooo don’t kill me for this, but I have to cancel on you tonight! I have a really, really good reason though! It has an eight pack and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise!

  WHAT THE HELL?

  Holding back a frustrated scream, I typed a text:

  This is the tenth-plus time you’ve stood me up for a fucking guy, Nicole. A non-boyfriend guy at that and I’m beyond tired of it! You have no idea what it means to be a good friend, so the second you decide that you want to be one, let me know.

  My finger hovered over the send button, but I didn’t press it.

  She wasn’t worth it anymore.

  I grabbed some of the snacks she’d bought and headed upstairs to my room.

  I flipped through a few cooking channels and settled on a chef that was making a specialty crème br
ûlée. I changed into a different set of pajamas and got into bed, grabbing my binder to take notes.

  As the chef was testing the custard’s temperature, my phone vibrated. Carter.

  My mind immediately pictured him kissing my lips and holding my body taut against him, so I knew I didn’t need to talk to him right now.

  I hit ignore.

  He called again.

  I hit ignore again.

  He sent me a text:

  Are you hitting ignore because you don’t want to admit that I was right about Nicole?

  You were wrong about her actually. We’re at my place taking shots and eating pizza. I’ll call you later.

  I’m looking at her right now, so unless you’ve grown a beard and a mustache within the past six hours, I take it that she did, in fact, bail on you?

  Unfortunately…The guy she’s with has a beard and a mustache?

  Yes. He also looks like he’s at least ten to twelve years older than her.

  You’re kidding.

  Not at all. What are you really doing?

  Moping about what pitiful friends I have. (You included.) You?

  Getting ready to head home. I was trying to help Josh find a “just friend” friend at the bar tonight.

  Did it work?

  No. He decided to go for the one night stand option instead. You want some company?

  Not really…

  I lied.

  Well, I do. Be ready in twenty. I’ll pick you up and we’ll come to my place.

  What’s wrong with my place?

  I would answer that, but it never happened…

  I blushed.

  Okay. See you in twenty.

  I didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas. I put on a pair of old worn sneakers and took a duffle bag out of my closet.

  I walked downstairs and stuffed most of the things Nicole had bought inside of the bag.

  “You going to a slumber party, Ari?” Heather looked up at me from the counter, smiling. “Aren’t we a little too old for those?”

  “No, Nicole stood me up again so I’m going to hang out with Carter for a while.”

  “Oh. Well, sorry to hear that about Nicole, again. At least Carter was free tonight, right?”

  “Right.” I paused. “I slept with him the other night.”

  “You slept with who?” She tilted her head to the side.

  “Carter. I slept with him. We had sex.”

  “Right…” She put her hand over her chest and laughed loudly. “Like I’d ever believe that! You two are like the cutest non-couple/best friends ever.” She looked down at her work again. “Have fun.”

  “I’ll try...” I slung the duffel bag over my shoulder and stepped onto the porch. I was certain that most people wouldn’t believe we’d had sex either; hell, even though I had the memory to prove it, a part of me was still in disbelief.

  Carter pulled up just as I was sitting down. Instead of waiting on me to make a move for the car, he walked up the pathway and reached for the duffle bag.

  “Are you planning on asking me to move in?” He held it up. “What the hell is in this?”

  “Snacks and alcohol, courtesy of Nicole.”

  “Well, at least something good came out of her standing you up this time.” He slipped his hand around my waist—sending those familiar, palpable tremors down my spine, as we walked to his car.

  We made the short drive to his place without saying much of anything to each other and like always, I adjusted his music from indie rock to soft pop.

  I wanted to say something, to laugh and joke about something insignificant, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted to feel his lips on mine again.

  “Arizona?” His voice broke me out of my thoughts and I realized he was holding my door open. “Are you going to get out of the car? Why do you always stare into space when the car is parked?”

  “Bad habit.” I got out and followed him inside. As we walked down the hallway, we could hear soft moans and groans coming from Josh’s bedroom.

  I tried my best to tune them out as Carter led me into his room and shut the door.

  “Are you actually going to talk to Nicole about flaking on you this time, or are you just going to let it go like you normally do?” he asked, setting the duffle bag on the floor.

  “Honestly? I think I’m just going to stop agreeing to go out with her…She’ll get the point eventually, and maybe then, when she realizes what’s happened, we can talk.”

  “Makes sense.” He popped open a drink and handed it to me. “Were you two really planning on watching any of these movies?”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re all terrible…” He shuffled through the DVDs. “I know I’m the one who wanted company, but can we bypass the chick-flick thing?”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “I’ll watch one of your cooking shows in exchange for any of these…When Harry Met Sally? Maid in Manhattan? The Breakfast Club?”

  “The Breakfast Club isn’t a chick flick.” I snatched that DVD from him. “I doubt she and I were going to make it through any of these.”

  “Good.” He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping it to the cooking channel I was watching before.

  The chef had moved on from crème brûlée and was now getting ready to prepare a seven course meal.

  Carter handed me the remote and a handful of snacks. “Need anything else?”

  “Would you like to take turns painting our nails when the shows goes off?”

  “Not at all. Is this a re-run?”

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “I’m just wondering,” he said, getting in bed behind me. “I wanted to know if I would be able to talk to you during the show.”

  “You’re the one who was lonely and needed company. I was just fine.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.” I turned up the volume. “And even though it is a re-run, and you claim you hate cooking shows, I know deep down you love watching them with me.”

  He laughed, but he didn’t say anything else. He pulled me back by my shoulders until I was leaning against his chest.

  I swallowed, ignoring the sudden tension between us and kept my eyes glued to the TV.

  “Make sure you have the oven preset to 375 degrees. Not 350, not 400. 375…” The chef took out another set of ingredients.

  Carter blew a soft breath against my neck and my breathing slowed. I tried to ignore the fact that my heart was now racing, that I could literally feel myself getting wet.

  “This is how you want to season the vegetables…” The chef was smiling at the camera, showing off his different brushes, but I wasn’t paying any attention. I couldn’t.

  Carter was kissing my neck every few seconds—letting his teeth softly graze my skin, and my body was betraying me by reacting to his every move.

  “Could you get us some ice from the kitchen?” I broke away from him once his hands began to massage my shoulders. “And some glasses, please?”

  “Sure.” He smiled and stood up, leaving the room.

  Shaking my head, I took several deep breaths and tried not to think too much. Then I moved to the other side of the bed, at the end, by his dresser.

  Carter returned to the room and looked at me, holding back a laugh as he set the ice on his desk. He filled one of the glasses with juice and walked over, handing it to me.

  “Any reason why you moved down here?” he asked.

  “The view is better from here. Much better.”

  “Do you mind if I join you and see for myself?”

  “Yes.” My cheeks were on fire. “Yes, I do mind…You seemed to enjoy the view from where you were on the bed before, so…” I stopped talking once I realized he was ignoring me and moving behind me anyway.

  He pulled me against him again and began to run his fingers through my hair.

  I tried to zone in on what the chef was saying again, but it was no use. I’d seen this episode hundreds of times, cooked the meal a
longside him quite a few times, and I could probably recite his recipe and instructions by memory.

  Feeling Carter tug at my hair again, I turned around to face him. “Why aren’t you paying attention to the show?”

  “Because I’d rather pay attention to something far more interesting.”

  “Something like my hair?” I smiled. “Interested in the type of conditioner I used today?”

  A smile formed on his lips and he looked like he was about to say something smart in return, but I beat him to it.

  “Are you trying to have sex with me?” I asked.

  “By running my fingers through your hair?” He smirked. “If that was the case, I think I would do something far more deliberate than that...”

  “Like attempting to kiss me?”

  “Attempting?” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. “No. I would just kiss you... ” He didn’t let go of my mouth until I was breathless, and then he pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him.

  Without saying another word, he ran his fingers through my hair, kissing my lips again and again.

  “Do you…” I paused as he planted a kiss against my forehead. “Do you remember how I said we should forget how that night between us happened?” I asked.

  “I have no idea what night you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Is it in reference to when I ‘fucked’ you?” He smiled.

  “Yes…” I pushed his shoulder. “Well…”

  “Well?”

  “Technically, we had sex in the early hours of the morning that day. It wasn’t at night so…We still have the hours of today, which are included in the hours of the weekend, so…I think that we should have sex again but not past today. Because that way…”

  “That way, what?” He pulled me close.

  “That way we get to use the full weekend of um…sex, to our full advantage…And our friendship won’t get messed up still because I think we can put this behind us when it’s over…What do you say?”

  “I didn’t catch anything after you said, I think we should have sex.”