Forget You, Ethan

  We have some of the same shirts...

  “I know your father grounded you for throwing Rachel off her bike last week,” my mom said, lowering her voice. “But how about I take the two of you to the movies this weekend while he’s at work?”

  “You can take me by myself,” I said. “I don’t want Rachel anywhere near me.”

  Before she could say another word, I walked out the front door—ready to place my final letter in Rachel’s mailbox.

  It was already too late, though.

  Her family’s yellow moving van was pulling onto the street.

  Sighing, I tucked the letter into my back pocket and looked at the bright side of things. Rachel was leaving.

  Rachel was leaving. Rachel was LEAVING.

  I waved at the van as it began to move faster, rolling my eyes at Rachel as she threw up her middle finger from the back seat. I was tempted to rush out to the street and toss my parting letter to her anyway, but the van suddenly started to slow down.

  Then it turned into the driveway right next to my house.

  Then it stopped.

  What is happening?

  Rachel’s parents parked the truck, and they didn’t back out of the driveway. They just sat there, as if they belonged. As if this was where they were planning to move.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet!” Rachel’s mom stepped out first. “I don’t know why you always give Ethan such a hard time, Rachel. He’s here waiting to help you move into your new room.”

  “What did you say?” My jaw dropped. “Rachel is moving right next door?”

  Her mom didn’t hear me.

  My dad was suddenly at my side, patting my shoulder. “They wanted a house with a pool like ours and the James’ had finally put their house up for sale. Isn’t it funny how life works out sometimes, son?”

  I was speechless, and from the way Rachel’s jaw was hanging open, she was speechless as well.

  “I think we made the right decision by not telling them until move-in day.” Her father laughed and opened the back of the trailer. My traitorous parents laughed as well, and then they began helping them unload their things.

  Rachel remained glued to the back seat, and I stood rooted in the grass. It wasn’t until several minutes later when my mom placed a box marked “Rachel’s new room” in my hand that I realized that this was really happening.

  The dog shit I’d left for Rachel was seeping through the box, onto my shoes.

  I set it down and looked up at Rachel, wondering if I should be the “bigger person” and offer a truce, but I saw my Captain America toy in her hand. Saw her smiling at me as she held it up high.

  I looked around, ready to show my mom how evil Rachel really was, but our parents were all inside.

  “Give me my Captain America, and I won’t burn any more of your stuff,” I said as she rolled down the window.

  “Okay, that sounds fair.” She shrugged and stepped out of the van. She held out the figurine, but she didn’t hand it to me.

  She dropped it, down the sewer drain. “Oops!”

  I knew I was supposed to snitch on her for doing that, that I should run to the house and get her into trouble, but I was sick of her shit.

  I kicked her to the ground, and she quickly pulled me down with her. I didn’t give a damn that she was a girl. She fought harder than any of the boys on this block, and being grounded for hitting her again wasn’t going to kill me.

  Track 5. Gorgeous (3:12)

  Rachel

  THE ETHAN STANDING in front of me was nothing like the Ethan Wyatt I remembered at all. He’d always been tall and muscular, always given off an air of cockiness, but he’d never been remotely attractive. At least, to me.

  And as much as it pained me to admit it, this Ethan Wyatt was fucking gorgeous.

  It was undeniable.

  In place of his slightly chubby cheeks from our high school years, was a well-defined and chiseled jawline, and in place of the “bird chest” that I use to tease him about, was a full set of glistening abs and a black and grey tattoo on the right side of his chest.

  His ocean blue eyes were still the same, but when he smiled, I noticed that they complemented the deep dimples in his cheeks.

  The fact that he was slightly more attractive now didn’t change anything, though. Shortly after his eyes met mine while he was in the hot tub, once the initial shock of attraction faded away, I felt awkward. I silently questioned if we should even consider being roommates, if we were still the hot-headed kids who could be completely cordial one minute and engaged in a fiery argument the next.

  “Okay, we’re going to vote now,” Greg said, setting a stack of blankets on the couch for me. “Ethan, can you join me in the kitchen so we can officially discuss our next roommate?”

  Ethan headed toward Greg without looking my way, and as if I wasn’t standing close by, Greg began to speak.

  “So, let me lay out my reasons why I’m saying yes to Rachel. Then you can say your reasons, and then we can vote.” He held up one finger. “Number one, she’s sexy as hell, but she also has the money according to her dad. I do sense a smart mouth, since when I opened the windows to the deck and said, ‘This is an example of an ocean view,’ she responded with ‘No shit.’ I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.”

  Ethan’s lips curved into a slight smile, revealing his deep dimples again. “That’s pretty mild sarcasm for her. You need to know that it will only get worse.”

  “Okay so, that’s one strike in my book,” he said. “But back to the positives. Once again, she has the money. She also claims to have taken Sociology on the Semester at Sea ship, and she’s willing to share some of her old notes with me.”

  “Greg, Sociology is one of the easiest classes on this campus. Why are you so hell-bent on getting help for that?”

  “Because the only professor I could get is Swanson and he’s failed me in two of his other classes.” He paused. “He clearly has it out for me, and I need at least a C to graduate.”

  “Any other positives?”

  “Did I mention she was attractive as hell yet?”

  “You did.” Ethan picked up a bottle of beer and sipped it, still not looking my way.

  “Well, let’s put it to a vote.” Greg cleared his throat. “All in favor of Rachel Dawson being our third roommate, say I.”

  “I,” I said, in unison with Greg.

  Ethan turned around to face me. “You don’t live here. You don’t get a vote in this.”

  “Like hell she doesn’t, since it sounds like two to one.” Greg laughed and walked over to me, handing me a beer. “No need for you to sleep on the couch tonight, but we will need your first month of rent by the end of this week.”

  “No problem.”

  He clinked his beer against mine and looked at his phone. “I’ll be back a little later. I’m about to go fuck—I mean...” He paused, clearing his throat. “Rachel, are you seeing anyone? I’m asking for a friend.”

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “Me.”

  I laughed. “No, I just got out of a relationship.”

  “Okay, well, if you ever want to go out with me, I’d be totally up for that.” He headed toward the door. “I mean, after I get done with what I’m doing tonight. Not now.” He said goodbye and rushed out of the door, leaving Ethan and me alone.

  “So, you did break up with Daddy Bear?” Ethan stepped in front of me, smirking. “Did he cry?”

  “First of all, his name was Tate,” I said. “His bedroom name was Big Bear, and he dumped me.”

  “That makes him what? The umpteenth boyfriend that dumped you on that ship?”

  “I’m aware.” I stood up. “Thank you for reminding me. Which of the guest rooms am I getting?”

  “Neither,” he said, walking over to my suitcases and rolling them forward. “Me and Greg have decided that the new roommate should get the master suite.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “It’s the only room that isn’t completely
insulated.” He smiled a perfect set of pearly whites, and I tried to remember if his smile ever looked like that when we were younger. “Oh, and since it was an addition to the existing house, it’s also the only room in the house that doesn’t have central air conditioning.”

  Of course. “Just when I thought you were being generous to me.”

  “Never with you.” He walked me down the hall, rolling my things into the massive suite.

  Sure enough, the air inside felt warmer than the hallway, and I knew that all the fans in the corner and the boxed air conditioner were going to be put to major use every day.

  I opened the doors to the balcony and stepped out on the ledge, smiling as I looked at the bathroom which was five times the size of my entire cabin on the SS World Odyssey.

  “The only thing we don’t have in this house is a washer and dryer,” he said. “So you’ll have to take your stuff to the Super Suds laundry mat down the block.” He opened a closet. “There are plenty of canvas bags in your closet, and the walk is only ten minutes.”

  “Walk? Don’t you have a car?”

  “Yes, I do have a car. But seeing as though you don’t, I don’t understand what that has to do with you.”

  “You’re not going to offer to let me use it when I need to do my laundry? Not even if I go on the same day as you?”

  “If I considered you to be my friend, I would. Seeing as though I don’t?” He shrugged, and I rolled my eyes.

  The second he placed my smallest suitcase onto an ottoman, I unzipped the side pocket and pulled out a framed envelope. I set it at the center of my dresser.

  “You still haven’t opened your mom’s last letter to you?” he asked.

  “No.” I shook my head. “The back of the flap says to open it when and if I’ve run out of people to turn to for advice.”

  “Interesting,” he said, lifting my other suitcase on top of a dresser. As he heaved it, my baby blue “reading companion” fell from the top pocket and fell to the floor, buzzing.

  Gasping, I reached for it, but he grabbed it first, rolling it around in his palm.

  “Hmmm,” he said, smiling. “So, you only need three inches when you’re playing with yourself? Maybe that’s why you always settle so much when it comes to guys.”

  I snatched my toy from him and tucked it into my purse. “Thank you for your help. You can leave my room and return to showing your true hateful colors now.”

  “After we discuss the rules.” He eyed the open flap of my suitcase, and I zipped it up before any of my other vibrators fell out.

  “First rule,” he said, looking serious, “no bonfires or parties. Ever.”

  “Noted.”

  “Second rule, you need to make sure that you close your shutters every night.” He pointed to the massive grey shutters that framed my windows. “They’re connected to the alarm system, so whenever you’re done for the night, make sure they’re shut.”

  “Got it.”

  “Third rule, no male company in your bedroom.”

  “Excuse me?” I crossed my arms. “What type of rule is that?”

  “A brilliant one.” He looked me up and down. “It’s also a non-negotiable one.”

  “Do you plan on having any company in your room? Like, are you and Greg seriously saying that you won’t ever invite any females over?”

  “The only reason I’m instituting that rule for you is because dating on land is different than it is at sea, and the words “Want to come back to my room and talk?” make a completely different impression.

  “Oh...” I cleared my throat. “Right. Well, thanks. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

  “I really don’t.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Greg suddenly barged into my room.

  “Okay, change of plans!” He held up his hands in surrender. “My ex didn’t want to give me any break-up sex for old times’ sake, so I think Ethan should drive us to The Umbrellas to celebrate our new roomie and a senior year we won’t forget. My treat.”

  “Your treat?” I smiled. “Really?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’ll buy you both one drink.”

  Track 6. Tell Me Why (5:01)

  Rachel

  THE UMBRELLAS WAS A perfect example of something I’d sorely missed out on by being away from a college campus for so long. Set on the edge of Main Street, it was an indoor bar that served discounted drinks in rain-boot shaped glasses. Unlike on the ship, where I could only get two drinks a night—and only on certain days, the bartenders here weren’t counting anything but money. As for the bar’s namesake, the ceiling was comprised of colorful open umbrellas that hung high above the dance floor. That, and every table was carved into a perfect round, canopy shape.

  I was sitting in a “rainforest” booth for a second hour, listening to Greg complain about his ex-girlfriend. He had yet to buy me and Ethan the promised drinks, but several guys were sending me free ones every twenty minutes.

  To my surprise, women were sending Ethan free drinks as well, and he was completely unfazed by their attention. He smiled each time and raised his glass in their direction—turning away at the exact moment that they glared at me.

  What the hell?

  “You know something else I’m going to miss about my ex-girlfriend?” Greg asked. “Even though she was crazy as hell, she gave me the best head of my life. Like, her deep throat game was amazing.”

  “You’re still talking about this?” Ethan laughed and sipped his beer. “Thank you so much for sharing the intimate details with us, Greg.”

  “I mean, the things she could do with her tongue were out of this world.” He was still talking. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find someone else with a special tongue like that.”

  I stifled a groan and pulled out my phone. Needing a distraction from Greg’s words, I sent a mass text message to fifty phone numbers I’d saved from all my voyages.

  Me: Hey everyone! It’s me, Rachel Dawson from the SS World Odyssey/Semester at Sea! Just letting you know I’m back on campus, and I’d love to hang out again. Sea friends are friends forever, right?

  My phone buzzed in seconds with responses.

  555-6754: I think you have the wrong number...

  555-3216: Dude, I did Semester at Sea two and a half years ago. Don’t remember you.

  555-0965: The ‘Rachel Dawson’ who refused to go out with me? Fuck off.

  It didn’t buzz again for hours.

  “Hey, I have a question for you.” Greg waved his hand in front of my face when Ethan stepped away. “How long have you and Ethan really been friends? Just tell me because Ethan has lied to me about this twice tonight already.”

  “We’ve never been friends.” I sipped my drink, refreshing my inbox. “We’re enemies who’ve learned how to tolerate each other.”

  “True enemies can’t be cordial.”

  “You can if you have to be,” I said. “Aren’t you trying to be cordial with your ex?”

  “She blocked my number a few minutes ago.” He tossed back the rest of his shot. “You want to help me find someone to sleep with tonight? That is, unless you’re interested.”

  “I’ll help you when I get back,” I laughed, standing up from the table. “I need to make sure I’m making the most out of my first on-campus drinking experience.”

  I made my way over to the bar, and the bartender smiled, handing me a new orange drink and winking at me.

  “Must feel nice being you tonight,” a familiar voice on my left said.

  I looked over and found myself face to face with Brody Huntington, the guy I had a crush on during my senior year of high school. I’d told Ethan back then that he was untrustworthy, but he never took my advice when it came to his “real friends.”

  “Wow.” Brody looked me up and down, his green eyes gleaming under the dim lights. “You look different.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?”

  “A great way.” He stared at my legs. “I didn’t know you were back on campus. Did you
have fun doing Semester at Sea?”

  “Yeah, probably the same amount of fun that you and Lisa had fucking behind Ethan’s back,” I said. “Is she here with you tonight?”

  He sucked in a breath and his eyes turned to slits.

  “Don’t worry.” I stepped back, needing to sit down again. “You never stood a chance with me anyway. I didn’t like you when we were kids, and I damn sure don’t like you now.”

  “Fuck you, Rachel.” He pushed past me, and I grabbed onto the counter for balance. I collected myself for a few minutes before ordering another drink and returning to the booth.

  Greg was long gone—grinding against some girl on the dance floor, and Ethan was busy swiping his phone’s screen every few seconds.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” I asked him. “Is something wrong with your phone?”

  “No, it’s Tinder,” he said. “Welcome back to the wonderful world of Wi-Fi.”

  “Is Tinder the sex app?”

  “I prefer the term hookup app.”

  “If you’re so popular on campus—supposedly, why do you need to go on a website to find a hookup?”

  He looked up at me, letting a slow smile cross his lips. “Because I’d prefer to sleep with someone I haven’t slept with before.”

  “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes, now remembering all the unnecessary details he gave me in his letters about his sex life during his freshman and sophomore semesters. “I almost forgot how much of a man-whore you are.”

  “Were,” he said, correcting me. “I’m just trying to erase Lisa from my memory for good.”

  “You didn’t even love Lisa, though.” I shrugged. “What’s there to get over? And last time I checked, random sex does nothing for you. At least, that’s what you used to write in your letters all the time.”

  He looked at me for a few seconds, as if he was considering my words. Then he put his phone away. “Good point.”