Track 32. New Year’s Day

Rachel

**A few weeks after he joined me on ‘Semester at Sea’**

 

 Dear Rachel,

I know exactly what you’re doing right now.

You’re not fooling anyone, and I can see right through your acting. (You’re not sick AT ALL, and you have to stop faking these coughing spells during our master class hours.)

Forget You,

Ethan

PS—Why didn’t you tell me how terrible the water pressure was on this ship? I vividly remember a particular letter you sent me a while ago about how “amazing” and “spa-like” it was. It feels like a goddamn dripping faucet.

 

 

Dear Ethan,

I’m confused. What are you talking about? (I know that I’m not sick. I’m giving you the signal. The ‘I would like to have sex right now’ signal.)

Forget You,

Rachel

 PS—I only told you that to make you jealous since you mentioned taking some girl to “The Four Seasons” for an entire weekend during our junior year. You have to use the showers on deck five. Just go when the administrators are in their midday meeting.

 

Dear Rachel,

You’re a terrible actress. (I’ll meet you in my room in twenty minutes)

Forget You,

Ethan

PS—I made that up. (I was already jealous.) Wait. What? Are you saying that you go into their rooms when they’re not in there? Just to take a decent hot shower?

 

Dear Ethan,

(Okay, I’ll start coughing a little harder in like three minutes and leave class first.)

Forget You,

Rachel

PS—Yeah. Just once a week, though. The water pressure in their rooms is PHENOMENAL. Also, their bathrooms are disconnected from their suites. Technically, I’m not going into their rooms, you know? It’s only a problem if you get caught. I’ll give you all the passcodes later.

 

Dear Ethan AND Rachel,

Can you please stop using our ship’s limited Wi-Fi to send these dumbass notes to each other during master class hours? You do realize that everyone in this room can SEE all of your messages via the class chat system, right? We’ve seen them EVERY DAY since Ethan joined us on this ship!

Forget BOTH of you,

Professor Max

PS—Rachel, I’ll need you to meet me during my office hours tomorrow morning to discuss this ‘stealing showers’ business…

 

Dear Ethan, 

Do you think we can find a way to adjust the privacy settings on this chat, or no?

Forget You,

Rachel

 

 

Track 33. You Belong with Me

Rachel

 

**Several hours later**

 

The ship softly swayed from side to side as Ethan held me in his arms. Tonight was the umpteenth night in a row that I’d stayed in his room as he made love to me—falling asleep against his chest as he whispered promises against my lips.

 

From the moment he’d boarded this ship, we were utterly inseparable.

 

I was happy that I no longer needed to set aside time to pen letters describing my travels or anxiously wait weeks for his response. He was by my side all day, every day, and we experienced all of the foreign cities and sites together.

 

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was living in the pages of a romance novel, but my real-life boyfriend was far more impressive than any of the heroes I’d ever encountered in a book. He knew me inside and out, completed my sentences when I struggled to find the words to say, and even when we were sitting in silence, he could tell what was on my mind.

 

“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 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.

 

PS—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?

 

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 (& 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.” Ashely 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 glittering 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.)

 

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 letting 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 34. 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.

 

“Did you read the whole thing?” She tilted her head to the side. “Like, with the epilogue?”

 

I nodded, and she shook her head.

 

“She definitely didn’t…” She and Greg burst into laughter.

 

“Okay, then,” she said, “We’ll call you tomorrow. Can you try to get online at the same time?”

 

“Sure…” I logged off the call and shook my head. Two pointless phone calls in a row.

 

I need to make them add money to my Skype account for doing this.

 

As I was trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about, Ethan walked into the room. The sight of him dressed in an immaculate suit and tie—with his pearly white smile to match, sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

 

Was there an event onboard today that I forgot about? The business party isn’t until four days from now.

 

“My dad wants you to know that he loves you,” I said, turning off the computer. “Oh, and he seems to think that you need to know that everything is fine, as long as I tell him all about my day later.” I paused. “Do you think he’s losing his memory this early?”

 

He laughed. “Not at all, but thanks for telling me what he said.”

 

“Oh, and Greg and Penelope called. They finished your book and said they liked it.”

 

“No, they loved it.” He laughed, moving closer and reaching for my hand. “I need to talk to you about something.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes, right now.” He helped me to my feet and clasped my hand, leading me out of the room. “How’d you feel about the remaining chapters of the book?”

 

“They were pretty good for a debut, I guess.” I tried not to feed his ego.

 

“That’s all it was? Pretty good?”

 

“It may get a reread once a year.” More like once a week.

 

“What about the extra chapter of us at the make-up prom?” He led me into the main lounge, where the wall of panoramic windows gave a sweeping view of the sea.

 

“I think you should include it in the book,” I said. “But after reading the entire thing, I’m wondering what might’ve happened if the characters hadn’t agreed to erase that night from their memories.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Maybe they wouldn’t have fallen out right before college if they just admitted their feelings for each other,” I said, feeling a bit of regret. “Maybe if the heroine knew certain things the hero had done on her behalf instead of assuming that—Well, you know.”

 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “How’d you feel about the epilogue?”

 

“It was good. Great.” I shrugged.

 

“What happened in it?”

 

“They lived happily ever after.”

 

“Give me the details like you normally do, Rachel.”

 

“Um…” I searched for an answer. “Well, they um…”

 

That familiar sexy smile spread across his face. “You’re still attempting to hold off on reading some of it, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes.” I felt my cheeks reddening. “But it’s not because I don’t want to. It’s so I can have something to savor later…It’s more than ‘pretty good,’ Ethan. It’s fucking perfect. And I think you may have ruined me from reading other books for a while, because I can honestly tell you that I’m just going to reread yours for the next several weeks.”

 

“I’m honored that you feel that way, Rachel,” he said, brushing a few stray hairs from my face. “Unfortunately, I have to spoil the ending for you right now.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you do, you know that will put you at the top of my shit list until—”

 

“We fuck again,” he said, kissing me. “I have to, though. You clearly can’t be trusted to finish it any time soon, and I’ve attempted to pull this off several different times. If you keep refusing to finish, we’ll never get to the best part.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

He let out a sigh and pulled a black box from his pocket, then he got down on one knee and looked up at me.

 

“Rachel Marie Dawson…” he said, and I immediately felt tears pricking my eyes. “I’ve previously told you that I loved you since I was seven and a half years old. But over the years, I honestly can’t deny that while you’ve definitely been my number one enemy at times, you’ve always been my best friend.” He looked into my eyes. “I never told you this, but your mother wrote me a letter right before she passed, and I…I didn’t open it until you stopped talking to me when we broke up, when you decided to return to Semester at Sea. She said that she always thought that we should end up together. If we weren’t already, she said that I should immediately take you out. Of course, I was already fucking miserable since you weren’t talking to me at that point, and I never want to feel that way, or be without you, for that long again.”

 

I tried to hold it together, but it was no use. My heart was pounding against my chest, and tears were falling down my face.

 

“I know we’re only twenty-two and a half right now, but I want you to be by my side from now until we’re one hundred and a half, too. I don’t want to go another day without knowing that you’ll be mine forever, because I know that I’ve always been yours…”

 

I cried a little harder as he squeezed my hand.

 

“I know we’ve always signed off on all our letters with ‘Forget You’, but I’ve never been able to truly forget you, Rachel. I never will…”

 

He took the ring from the box and gently placed it at the tip of my finger. “Rachel Marie Dawson, will you marry me?”

 

“Yes.” I barely managed as he stood up to kiss me. “Well, wait. Under one small condition.”

 

“What condition is that?”

 

“Since you’ve somewhat spoiled it, I want you to tell me exactly how you wrote this part in your book.”

 

He smiled and kissed me again. “Honestly? It’s written in the exact same way…”

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you to everyone who has read Forget You, Ethan & Sincerely, Carter. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for taking a chance on these characters.

 

If you missed me personally addressing this epilogue, you can find it here.

 

If you’re interested in reserving a signed copy of either book, they’ll be available in the F.L.Y. store this spring. If you’d prefer to have them in one complete set, a la Sincerely, Yours, those will be available, too.

 

Thank you for everything.

F.L.Y.

Whitney G.