Sincerely, Carter
Page 42
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Ten minutes later, when her mom had managed to snap a photo of her at every angle, Ari gave us both a hug.
“Take care, you two,” she said. “I love you both…Very, very much…”
“Love you, too,” we said.
“They’re going to start boarding in about thirty minutes…” She looked at her watch. “I need to get through security.” Her eyes met mine. “Talk to you later?”
“Talk to you later.”
She walked away and I kept my eyes on her until she disappeared. I walked her mom—who started to cry, back to her car, and when I was sure she wasn’t too emotional to drive, I headed to my car.
As I was starting the engine, I felt my phone vibrating. A text from Ari.
How much did you spend on upgrading me to first class?
I didn’t upgrade you to first class.
Someone did…I didn’t pay for this.
You did. Your seat was always 2A.
Ha! I knew it. Thank you very much…
No problem. I figured ten-plus hours in economy class would’ve brought out the worst in you and your anxiety. Be safe.
Okay.
Okay.
I drove off and when I stopped at a red-light, I saw that she’d sent me another text.
Okay so…Just to be clear because well…I don’t know. Sometimes you push people away when you don’t want to show emotions…When we were having sex…You felt nothing? It was just sex?
You putting it that way makes me sound like an asshole, Ari…
I didn’t say you were an asshole. Just tell me.
Yes. It was just sex.
Okay. Talk to you later.
Talk to you later.
Track 21. Should’ve Said No (2:44)
I couldn’t stop crying.
My heart felt heavy, and no matter how many times I wiped away my tears, more of them fell down my face. A part of me wished that I was sitting in coach and not first class so it would be easier to hide my pain, so flight attendants wouldn’t be so accessible and could stop offering me endless drinks and looks of sympathy.
I started to wonder if the heartbreak was written all over my face, if the other passengers in my cabin could see it.
Carter’s words, “I’m sorry…I love you, but not in that way,” wouldn’t stop replaying themselves in my head, and I couldn’t stop staring at his last text:
Yes. It was just sex.
I was hoping that the words were playing a cruel joke on me, because I still couldn’t believe he felt differently than I did…
I’d thought the way he looked at me when we made love meant something, that the way he treated me (better than anyone he’d ever dated) was indicative of something more. Something much more between us.
“Here you go…” A flight attendant set another packet of Kleenex in my lap. “Would you like another cup of juice?”
“No…” I sniffled. “I’m…” I paused. I would probably never see her or any of the people on this plane again in my life. “Can I have two glasses of your hardest liquor? Actually, can you make that four?”
She looked as if she was going to recite some company line, but she smiled instead. “Be right back.”
Turning to face the window, I stared at the wing of the plane as it cruised through clouds. I hoped that four glasses of alcohol would be enough for me to sleep through the remaining hours of this flight without dreaming.
Then again, if I did, I hoped that the images would show me going back in time and not talking to Carter as much. Maybe if we’d never had the opportunity to cross the line, this never would have happened.
I scrolled through my memories with him, pinpointing one that would’ve definitely prevented my heartbreak. It wasn’t erasing any of our nightly phone calls or the emails, or hanging around him when we were in high school; it was making the decision to go to a college near his.
I should’ve never done that…
Freshman Year
Subject: Star Status
Dare I ask how many women you’ve attempted to sleep with since you’ve started the semester? If I see another commenter on Facebook talk about how “sexy” you are on your profile picture, I will scream. (Why are you using that picture of us anyway? And what the hell is up with that CAPTION???!!)
Arizona
Subject: Re: Star Status
The word “attempt” implies that I actually have to try to sleep with someone here. I don’t. You’re only upset because none of the commenters are leaving compliments about you. (I like that picture of us in eleventh grade. No one will ever know what “Beat her to it…Best twenty dollars I ever won” means…)
Sincerely,
Carter
I put my phone away and focused on the girl who was sitting at my table.
Earlier today, she’d claimed to have no idea who I was, but the first question out of her mouth was, “Do you think you’ll go pro after college?”
Hell no… “Anything is possible,” I’d responded. “I’m only focusing on the present.”
Now, our main conversation points were all used up, and I was just waiting for her to get to the inevitable ending for our night.
“So…” she said. “When you’re not hanging out with your basketball friends, who do you hang out with?”
“Myself, really,” I said. “I don’t really have time for much else.”
She frowned and stood up, moving so she could sit right next to me. “That’s so sad…You don’t have any real friends? People outside of your teammates?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll make some eventually.”
“Why not start with me?” She bit her lip and rubbed my thigh under the table. “As a matter of fact, I think you and me can be best friends.”
“Becoming best friends takes a lot of time.” My cock hardened as she caressed it through my pants. “I’m not sure I’ll have much of that when the season starts.”
“You have to sleep somewhere at night, right?” She bit her lip again. “I’ll be there for you whenever you need me…Want me to show you how good it could be, future best friend?”
“I would.” I smiled. “Tell me when.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight works.”
“Okay.” Satisfied with my answer, she smiled wider and got up. “I’m going to tell my friends I’m leaving. You think you’ll be ready to go by the time I get back?”
“Most definitely.”
She blushed and walked away, and I signaled to the waitress for the check. Then I pulled out my phone, noticing another email from Arizona.
Subject: Scheduling Time.
Now that you’re going to be a huge basketball star, I guess I’ll have to start making appointments to come see you. How far out into the year are you booked with groupies? Or do I need to go through your “people” for things like this?
Rolling my eyes,
Arizona
Subject: Re: Scheduling Time.
You wouldn’t have to make appointments to see me at all if you’d chosen to go to a closer school. You hate snow and rain, so you should’ve never agreed to go the University of Pittsburgh.
Sincerely,
Carter
Subject: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
“Take care, you two,” she said. “I love you both…Very, very much…”
“Love you, too,” we said.
“They’re going to start boarding in about thirty minutes…” She looked at her watch. “I need to get through security.” Her eyes met mine. “Talk to you later?”
“Talk to you later.”
She walked away and I kept my eyes on her until she disappeared. I walked her mom—who started to cry, back to her car, and when I was sure she wasn’t too emotional to drive, I headed to my car.
As I was starting the engine, I felt my phone vibrating. A text from Ari.
How much did you spend on upgrading me to first class?
I didn’t upgrade you to first class.
Someone did…I didn’t pay for this.
You did. Your seat was always 2A.
Ha! I knew it. Thank you very much…
No problem. I figured ten-plus hours in economy class would’ve brought out the worst in you and your anxiety. Be safe.
Okay.
Okay.
I drove off and when I stopped at a red-light, I saw that she’d sent me another text.
Okay so…Just to be clear because well…I don’t know. Sometimes you push people away when you don’t want to show emotions…When we were having sex…You felt nothing? It was just sex?
You putting it that way makes me sound like an asshole, Ari…
I didn’t say you were an asshole. Just tell me.
Yes. It was just sex.
Okay. Talk to you later.
Talk to you later.
Track 21. Should’ve Said No (2:44)
I couldn’t stop crying.
My heart felt heavy, and no matter how many times I wiped away my tears, more of them fell down my face. A part of me wished that I was sitting in coach and not first class so it would be easier to hide my pain, so flight attendants wouldn’t be so accessible and could stop offering me endless drinks and looks of sympathy.
I started to wonder if the heartbreak was written all over my face, if the other passengers in my cabin could see it.
Carter’s words, “I’m sorry…I love you, but not in that way,” wouldn’t stop replaying themselves in my head, and I couldn’t stop staring at his last text:
Yes. It was just sex.
I was hoping that the words were playing a cruel joke on me, because I still couldn’t believe he felt differently than I did…
I’d thought the way he looked at me when we made love meant something, that the way he treated me (better than anyone he’d ever dated) was indicative of something more. Something much more between us.
“Here you go…” A flight attendant set another packet of Kleenex in my lap. “Would you like another cup of juice?”
“No…” I sniffled. “I’m…” I paused. I would probably never see her or any of the people on this plane again in my life. “Can I have two glasses of your hardest liquor? Actually, can you make that four?”
She looked as if she was going to recite some company line, but she smiled instead. “Be right back.”
Turning to face the window, I stared at the wing of the plane as it cruised through clouds. I hoped that four glasses of alcohol would be enough for me to sleep through the remaining hours of this flight without dreaming.
Then again, if I did, I hoped that the images would show me going back in time and not talking to Carter as much. Maybe if we’d never had the opportunity to cross the line, this never would have happened.
I scrolled through my memories with him, pinpointing one that would’ve definitely prevented my heartbreak. It wasn’t erasing any of our nightly phone calls or the emails, or hanging around him when we were in high school; it was making the decision to go to a college near his.
I should’ve never done that…
Freshman Year
Subject: Star Status
Dare I ask how many women you’ve attempted to sleep with since you’ve started the semester? If I see another commenter on Facebook talk about how “sexy” you are on your profile picture, I will scream. (Why are you using that picture of us anyway? And what the hell is up with that CAPTION???!!)
Arizona
Subject: Re: Star Status
The word “attempt” implies that I actually have to try to sleep with someone here. I don’t. You’re only upset because none of the commenters are leaving compliments about you. (I like that picture of us in eleventh grade. No one will ever know what “Beat her to it…Best twenty dollars I ever won” means…)
Sincerely,
Carter
I put my phone away and focused on the girl who was sitting at my table.
Earlier today, she’d claimed to have no idea who I was, but the first question out of her mouth was, “Do you think you’ll go pro after college?”
Hell no… “Anything is possible,” I’d responded. “I’m only focusing on the present.”
Now, our main conversation points were all used up, and I was just waiting for her to get to the inevitable ending for our night.
“So…” she said. “When you’re not hanging out with your basketball friends, who do you hang out with?”
“Myself, really,” I said. “I don’t really have time for much else.”
She frowned and stood up, moving so she could sit right next to me. “That’s so sad…You don’t have any real friends? People outside of your teammates?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll make some eventually.”
“Why not start with me?” She bit her lip and rubbed my thigh under the table. “As a matter of fact, I think you and me can be best friends.”
“Becoming best friends takes a lot of time.” My cock hardened as she caressed it through my pants. “I’m not sure I’ll have much of that when the season starts.”
“You have to sleep somewhere at night, right?” She bit her lip again. “I’ll be there for you whenever you need me…Want me to show you how good it could be, future best friend?”
“I would.” I smiled. “Tell me when.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight works.”
“Okay.” Satisfied with my answer, she smiled wider and got up. “I’m going to tell my friends I’m leaving. You think you’ll be ready to go by the time I get back?”
“Most definitely.”
She blushed and walked away, and I signaled to the waitress for the check. Then I pulled out my phone, noticing another email from Arizona.
Subject: Scheduling Time.
Now that you’re going to be a huge basketball star, I guess I’ll have to start making appointments to come see you. How far out into the year are you booked with groupies? Or do I need to go through your “people” for things like this?
Rolling my eyes,
Arizona
Subject: Re: Scheduling Time.
You wouldn’t have to make appointments to see me at all if you’d chosen to go to a closer school. You hate snow and rain, so you should’ve never agreed to go the University of Pittsburgh.
Sincerely,
Carter
Subject: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
