25 Sloane
February 2018
I’ve always found peace in traveling alone. I love getting to the airport a little early, even though I breeze through security with PreCheck. My typical routine has been to find a bar and order a glass of sauvignon blanc and a side of fries while I people-watch and catch up on work. I feel inspired watching the planes take off and land, wondering who’s in them, where they’re going, or where they’d rather be.
I pay my bill and make my way through the terminal to find my gate. Somehow, in a sea of people waiting to go to Boston, I manage to snag a seat. I’m scrolling on my phone, waiting for boarding to start, when I see the post—Graham proposed to Emily.
Their story is a sweet one. They met at the Clark family’s company party, where her dad is the head of marketing. The next morning, Graham sent me a text saying he’d met his wife. In the moment I laughed it off, but now I know he was serious. I can’t believe some people just know that easily. I wonder if that was the feeling that jolted through my body the moment that I met Ethan or if that was just my body’s way of telling me to stay far away from him. I’m so happy for them, but I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic and sad. I pictured Graham’s wedding day going so much differently.
Ethan and I would be sharing a hotel room. I’d be putting on my dress while he was just getting in the shower. He’d blast Frank Sinatra and sing at an unreasonable volume because it always made me laugh. He’d try to dance with me, and I’d playfully push him off, careful that he didn’t mess up my hair or makeup. I’d still let him kiss me though. I always let him kiss me. Well, until last weekend that is.
“Now boarding group five,” the gate agent’s voice echoes over the speaker.
I’m thrown back into reality, grab my bag, and head for the line. I scan my boarding pass and find my way to seat 13A. I always choose a window seat, and I used to wonder if that would have to change if I traveled with Ethan. Would I get comfortable in the middle seat? Or would we be that couple that sits across the aisle from each other? Now I’ll never know. How is it that he’s still such a prominent part of memories that I’m not even making with him?
Halfway through the flight, I get bored enough to start clearing out my camera roll, so I click to the top of the album. It shoots me up to my first-ever iCloud photos, which happen to be senior year move-in day. I usually try to avoid looking back at photos of Ethan and me, but sometimes late at night after I’ve had a few glasses of wine, the heartbreak convinces me to scroll through the pictures that I can’t get myself to delete. Today it decides to strike midafternoon.
Swiping through the memories stored on my phone, I watch our story unfold. A blurry shot of the boys sitting on our couch the first night we hung out, playing cards. A selfie of Lauren and Graham while Ethan photobombed in the background. The first picture we ever took of just the two of us on my twenty-second birthday. It’s all here. It’s so easy to look back and romanticize the good. The laughs, the kisses, the dates, the road trips. But what about the fights? The screaming, the crying, the nights he stormed out of the room and retreated to his own bed. Never documented, hardly discussed. It’s like they never existed. It’s easy to remember the good moments when they’re all we want to see.
On this plane, in the weeds of pictures I wish never existed, something in me finally breaks. This wasn’t how we were supposed to be. I was supposed to be flying home to him while we were figuring out long distance. Instead, I am consuming him through old memories. I hate that I have to disturb my seat neighbors as I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and I try not to grip the headrests of other people’s seats as I make my way to the front of the airplane. I lock myself in the bathroom and lay my head in my hands. Good thing it’s a short flight.
***
My alarm goes off earlier than usual, and I lie there for a few minutes before the day starts. I look around the cold modern hotel room and try to remember when I used to dream about having a job like mine and traveling on my own. That thought and the craving for a vanilla latte gets me out of bed and into the shower. I’m still surprised that Annie chose me to present for her at this year’s Boston Writers Workshop, but I’m sure it was because my open letter still holds The Gist title for most read this year.
There’s a Starbucks in the hotel lobby, so I stop there before I head to the conference. If I weren’t running late, I would find a local coffee spot, but this will have to do. Boston in February is even worse than New York, which I didn’t know was possible. I can barely feel my hands even with gloves on while holding my hot coffee. Luckily the conference center is only a block away, so I don’t have to go too far. I feel my phone ringing in the pocket of my trench coat, and I reach for it.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Morning, baby,” Reese says on the other line. “I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you. How are you feeling today?”
“I’m good. Pretty nervous, but I’m excited. I’ve been reciting everything basically since the moment I left the city. I’m running late though, and I’m just walking up, so I might have to go,” I explain, the words tumbling out in a frantic stream.
“I know,” he says, his voice a calm contrast to mine.
“What do you mean, you know?” I adjust the bag on my shoulder and look up to make sure I’m about to enter the right building.
“I’m here,” Reese reveals over the phone, and as my eyes lift to verify his claim, there he is, standing in the lobby right in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” The question comes out in a startled gasp, while his arms wrap around me in a grounding embrace.
“I got on the first flight out this morning. I told my boss I’d work from our Boston office tomorrow and meet some clients for him if he gave me the morning to travel. I have some calls, but I blocked my calendar during your session so I could sit in. Think of it as an early birthday gift.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, touched by his thoughtfulness and feeling even more guilty for not admitting the full truth about Ethan.
“I wanted to. I feel bad about the way I handled things over the weekend, and I know how much this means to you, so I wanted to come and cheer you on. Plus, picturing you giving a presentation onstage turned me on a bit.” His words are playful.
“Oh, stop it.” I blush. “I have to go check in and prepare. Will you be okay on your own until I’m done?”
“Yeah, I’ll work from the coffee shop across the street and make my way back over around ten thirty. Your portion will be about an hour, right? Do you have to stay for the others, or will you have time to get lunch after? I haven’t been to Boston in years, but I have some spots I want to show you.”
“I’m yours for lunch and dinner,” I promise before kissing him on the cheek and heading toward the front desk.
You know those little moments you long for in relationships? This was one of those. I always wanted someone to surprise me. Whether it was knocking on my door unannounced, sending flowers to my office just because, or showing up at a special event I wasn’t expecting them at. Reese showing up makes me feel important.
A few hours later, I present Annie’s slides on the importance of storytelling, which I helped her create, and make sure to put my own personality into them. In college, I never understood a lot of what was taught to me in class, so I made sure to make the presentation relatable and easy to understand. I used my article “An Open Letter to the Guy Who Didn’t Want to Date Me” as an example. The reason it gained so much momentum almost overnight wasn’t just that it’s a topic that was often written or talked about, but because I was vulnerable. I told my story and left the rest up to fate.
I walk back into the lobby to find Reese on a bench right outside of the doors.
“Baby, you crushed it.” He grabs my face and kisses me. “Seriously, what a boss.”
I’m surprised he’s so supportive of a piece of content that’s about someone he despises.
“Okay, okay. Calm down,” I say in a giggly tone, even though I don’t want him to stop.
“Just saying, I’m proud of you. It’s cool to see how passionate you are about work.” He nudges me. “Now, let’s explore. And celebrate of course.”
“What about your meetings?”
“I pushed them. We’re here; let’s take advantage of it.” He grins.
I don’t consider myself a spontaneous person. I’m a planner, and I like to be able to prepare for whatever lies ahead, but something comes over me. Before we find a place for lunch, we drop off his suitcase in my hotel room. I chose to stay in Seaport because that’s where the panel is being held, but I knew Reese would want to show me around downtown and take me to his favorite spots. I’m not as much of a foodie as he is, so I usually just follow along and trust that whatever reservations he makes are good.
We get to the door of my hotel room, and a wave of spontaneity washes over me. I unlock the door as Reese follows me in and sets his things near the closet. I come up from behind him and wrap my arms around his stomach.
“Someone’s in a good mood.” He turns around, and I stare up at him with a look in my eye that I hope says, Kiss me.
He towers over me, and in this moment, I realize that I love how tall he is. His lips come down over mine, and I completely lose my train of thought.
Reese gently pushes me up against the wardrobe doors and continues to kiss me but with more force this time. I push against him, and my mouth follows his motions until he pulls away and leads me toward the bed.
We simultaneously undress, and I motion for Reese to lie on the bed as I make my way on top of him. At this moment, I need to feel in control.
After, I kiss him, and then we lie next to each other, breathing heavily in silence.
I pick up my pants off the floor and fold them as I try to remember what other clothes I packed for this trip so I don’t have to wear slacks for the rest of day. I sort through my suitcase and pull out my favorite pair of jeans and a chunky neutral turtleneck—the perfect cold-weather outfit.
“Your phone’s been going off.” Reese hands it to me as he slides his belt through a loop on the waistband of his dark blue slacks. I swipe it from him to see I have four missed calls from Lauren.
“What the fuck!” she shouts into the phone.
Reese looks at me with an Are you okay? expression on his face, and I nod as I brace myself for the conversation that I know is about to unfold.
“You saw the post?” I assume.
“You knew? Why didn’t you call me? Or even text?” Lauren’s slightly angrier than I would’ve expected.
“I saw it when I was turning my phone on airplane mode and then had two glasses of wine on the flight, so by the time I landed, I think I forgot it happened. I’m so sorry, Laur.”
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but I get it. I can’t believe this! They’ve been dating, what, a little over a year? We’re only twenty-three; what’s the rush in getting engaged?” she spirals. “Oh my god, do you think she’s pregnant?”
“I doubt she’s pregnant. I think he’s just ready to settle down. Plus, you know his family. They’re so by the book that if they can’t live together until marriage, this was probably the next step.”
“Did you know it was happening?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“That makes me feel better.” I hear her sigh. I can’t imagine how she feels, and I hope I never have to. “How’d today go? When are you coming home? I miss you.”
“It was great! I just got back to the room, and I’m about to go grab something to eat, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s go out?” I suggest.
I hold off on mentioning Reese surprising me in Boston because it doesn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.
“A bestie date? I’m in. I’ll make us a dinner res, and then we can hit the bars. Love you. Hopefully, tonight isn’t too miserable. Try somewhere besides the hotel restaurant!”
Lauren knows I hate going out to eat by myself; it just makes me feel so alone. I look across the room at Reese, who’s patiently waiting for me with no complaints.
“I will. Love you too.” I hang up and let out a sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.
“Time for lunch now?” Reese asks, heading for the door.
As I follow him down the hall, I can’t help but wonder what Ethan thinks about Graham getting engaged. Is he thinking about me, the same way that I’m thinking about him?
***
I get back to the city the next day still not knowing what it’s like to travel with a significant other, since Reese stayed in Boston for work. In a way, I’m kind of glad. The Uber driver pulls my suitcase out of the trunk, and I thank him for the ride before greeting Phillip at our door.
“You’ve got some out-of-town guests this week, I hear?” he says.
“Do we?” I wonder if Lauren invited the girls from her nanny group out with us. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“Have a good night, Sloane.” He nods, leaving my question hanging in the air.
I continue through the lobby and up the elevator. As the doors open and I step out onto the third floor, I hear loud music and laughter coming from our side of the hallway. At least Lauren’s in a better mood than when I last talked to her. I unlock our front door and see a pair of shoes under our entryway table that I don’t recognize.
“I’m home!” I announce myself.
“Is that Sloane?” a familiar female voice says from around the corner. It takes me a second to recognize who it is.
“Jordan!” I drop my bags and run into the kitchen. “Holy shit, what are you doing here?”
“Someone had to come to pick up the pieces, am I right?” She motions over toward Lauren as we all laugh. “But also, I’m here for your early birthday celebration!”
“It’s a roomie reunion!” Lauren chimes in, grinning from ear to ear.
I take off down the hall to get ready and catch up to their level of drunk. In my bedroom, I throw open the suitcase and pull out my favorite pair of jeans, which probably need a wash, but I decide they can make it one more night without one. I stare into the small abyss that is my closet and try to decide on a top to wear before I settle on a black bodysuit. Another go-to. I pull the outfit together with a pair of black ankle boots and touch up my makeup before heading back to the kitchen to pregame.
A weekend with Lauren and Jordan brings me a cocktail of emotions—mostly excitement and anxiety. I’ve been trying so hard to move on from the person I was in college. I want to make new memories, fall in love, and stop comparing everything to Ethan. With Jordan here, that feels impossible.
“Are you okay?” Jordan whispers to me.
“Just exhausted from traveling,” I lie. “I’m so excited you’re here though!”
“I’ve missed you guys so much. Wilmington isn’t the same without you,” she replies.
“Move to the city, J! Haven’t you seen those people who fit like five roommates into a two-bedroom apartment using flex walls? We could totally do that.” I can’t tell if Lauren’s being serious or not.
“Maybe I’ll consider it next year. I’d rather not have a flex wall for a bedroom and hear both of you having sex all the time. Speaking of which, Lauren sort of filled me in. Ethan? Living in this building? So bizarre.” Jordan turns to me.
I run them both through the awkward elevator encounter between Reese and Ethan, how mad Reese was after, and then his surprising me on my work trip. When I say it out loud, my life doesn’t really sound that bad. I’ll admit, it isn’t. Bad, I mean. If only they knew what I am actually feeling. Usually I’d tell them, but tonight doesn’t seem like the right time. Tonight is about Lauren.
“Second date says that him and some friends will meet us out!” Lauren announces. The look on Jordan’s face says she’s more than confused. “Anywhere in particular you want to try, J? If not, the early-birthday girl can choose.”
“Second date is his nickname,” I explain, while shaking my head no to her question. “He’s the only guy in the city who’s made it to a second date. What’s his real name again?”
“Miles, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Jordan and I shoot each other wide eyes and a smile. I have a feeling this is more than a second date to Lauren, and I think Jordan does too.
***
The line at Flying Cock isn’t long, so we breeze through. Miles orders a round of tequila shots with orange slices, and I can tell why Lauren likes him so much. Not only is he tall, built, and good looking, but he takes care of her and her friends. To Lauren, that is nonnegotiable.
“Let’s get another shot.” Jordan links her arm with mine and pulls me towards the bar. “What’s the deal with Miles’s friend?”
“Which one? I don’t really know any of them, but I can try to find out,” I reply.
“The shorter one,” she says. “You don’t know them? Haven’t you all been out together?”
Now I’m in my head. Have I been a shitty friend to Lauren? I don’t know Miles, I wasn’t there for her when Graham announced his proposal, and I can’t even name any of the people she’s been spending time with the last few weeks.
I’ve been so caught up in the Ethan and Reese saga that I’ve been putting everyone else on the back burner. I told myself that once I got into a relationship this was something I’d never do.
Yet here I am, doing just that.
“Honestly, I haven’t spent much time with them. Let’s go mingle! We can introduce ourselves, and I’m sure Lauren will set you up.” Jordan follows as I walk through the crowd.
Three hours, two drinks, and one more shot later, I find myself in line for the bathroom checking my phone for any new messages. None. I walk back to the corner where we’ve been stationed all night and notice the group has dwindled.
“We’re gonna head back to his,” Lauren whispers. “I think J is hitting it off with Miles’s friend, so we’ll offer to take them back with us. Do you want to come?”
“I think I’m good. I’m getting tired, so I’ll get a ride home and save myself for tomorrow. Brunch?”
“Definitely brunch.”
Soon enough, I’m the last person from our group at the bar. I head to the bathroom one last time before walking home. I pull out the pair of gloves I always keep in my coat pocket and shove my hands into them. As I walk down 3rd Avenue, I can’t help but think about the time Ethan came to visit. He was so overwhelmed by the city, I thought he hated it. Now he lives here. How is that possible? I know I shouldn’t, but I dial his number.
“Yes, Hart?” He answers quicker than I expect him to.
“Will you come get me? I’m trying to walk home from Flying Cock, and I think I’m going the wrong way. I can never follow the walking directions Apple Maps gives.” My voice wavers, wondering if I should hang up.
“Where are you? What do you see?” His questions come rapid-fire.
“I’m near a laundromat and a Duane Reade.” I clutch the phone a little tighter.
“That’s less than helpful. Drop a pin?” His tone is practical, grounding.
“Alright.” I unlock my phone and follow his directions. “Done.”
“Stay there, I’ll meet you,” he assures me.
Within minutes, I’m face-to-face with Ethan Brady, unsure what to feel and how to act. My entire body lights up when I see him. How is anyone supposed to compete with this feeling? It’s impossible.
“You shouldn’t be walking home alone. Where’s Lauren?” he asks.
“They all left before me.” I continue walking, and he follows.
I pray that he doesn’t bring up Reese, because I already know what I’m doing is wrong. I don’t want to think about hurting him. In this moment, all I want to think about is Ethan. I want to pretend that we’re back where we were the night before he got on a flight back to Wilmington. I want to pick up where we left off like we never ended, because in my mind, we never really did.
“So where’s Reese?”
There it is.
“He’s away for work.” I bite my tongue, wishing we were talking about anything or anyone else.
“How’d that get rekindled anyway?” His question is gentle, yet it unearths a feeling I don’t want to face.
“Do we really have to do this?” I plead, not just for a change in conversation but for a break from my own conscience.
He pauses. “No, I guess we don’t.”
As we approach our building, a knot of anxiety tightens in my stomach. I can’t shake the feeling of Phillip’s silent judgment, even though he’s nowhere to be seen. The anxious feeling disappears as we call for the elevator and the doors open instantly. Saved by the bell.
Ethan and I step inside a space that seems far too intimate for comfort. My heart rate increases as the doors slide shut, sealing us inside. I reach out to press the button for the fourth floor, and Ethan does the same, aiming for the sixth. In a moment that almost feels choreographed, our hands touch.
Then, without warning, Ethan’s hand moves from the button to my wrist, his grip firm but comfortable. In one swift motion, he steps closer, pinning me gently against the cold metal wall of the elevator. Our faces are inches apart, our breath mingling, his eyes searching mine for a sign, any sign to tell him it’s okay. Is it okay? I can’t breathe, let alone think, with him this close.
“Yours or mine, Hart?”
Suddenly, we’re twenty-one again in the parking lot of Ascent, and Ethan is asking me the same question right before we go home together for the first time. I would give anything to go back and tell us how it all plays out. I’m just not sure that would change anything.
The elevator dings, announcing my floor, and I muster up the courage to say exactly what I’m thinking.
“Mine.”
It’s a bold move, fueled by a mix of fear and desire. I pull him with me, my fingers laced with his, leading him out of the elevator and down the hallway to my apartment.
Anticipation runs through me as I fumble with my keys, my hands betraying the casual demeanor I’m trying to maintain. I remind myself that this is my doing, things are on my terms, and I’m in control of this moment—sort of. Ethan Brady still has me wrapped around his finger, and I know that he knows it too.
“This layout is different than ours. You guys have a lot more space,” he comments as soon as we step into the apartment.
“I bet they’re both the same size. You probably just got screwed on living space since you have that third bedroom,” I point out. “Do you want a drink?”
“Not really,” he responds.
“Let’s go to my room,” I suggest. We both know this is wrong, yet he follows me and stands in the doorway surveying the bedroom.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, pointing at the suitcase on the floor, which looks like it’s been ransacked.
“No, I got back today,” I say, brushing off the question.
Settling back on the bed somehow feels too intimate and yet not intimate enough. I invite him to join me with a pat on the comforter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is that why you invited me over? To interrogate me?” He laughs. “Ask away.”
“Why could you never get there with me?” The question hangs in the air, waiting for an answer.
He sighs.
I’m sure this isn’t what he expected when my name popped up on his caller ID after midnight. He probably thought I was booty-calling him. While he wasn’t necessarily wrong, this booty call comes with stipulations. I need closure before I’m ever going to move on.
“I don’t know, Sloane.” His use of my first name, instead of Hart, tells me that we’re not treading in shallow waters anymore. “I can’t put it into words. It isn’t about you. It’s about me. I just can’t get there with anyone. If I could, it would be you,” he admits, and in that admission, there’s a raw honesty that comforts me.
That’s all I need to hear. I turn towards him, my hand reaching out to rest on his leg, silently telling him what I want. He understands the language of our bodies better than our words and finally kisses me.
“I’ve missed this,” he mutters against my mouth, and my heart feels like it might explode out of my chest.
“Me too,” I say.
I used to wonder if I’d ever kiss Ethan again. I can’t believe I’m kissing him now.
The next thing I know, we’re both down to just our underwear. I get goose bumps as his fingers run up and down my stomach.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
I have a brief flash of honesty—I know what I’m doing to Reese is wrong, but this moment with Ethan feels so right. Is it bad if I say I don’t feel even the slightest bit of guilt? This is what Ethan does to me, he makes me toss my morals to the side like a bra I’ve been waiting to take off all day.
Tension rises inside of me, and instead of answering with words, I take his hand and put it exactly where I want it. He brings his mouth up to my ear; he knows it’s a weakness of mine. My back arches and body trembles. I lose myself in him.
“I want you,” I beg.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” His voice is thick.
My hand finds its way to his underwear, and I can feel how much he’s grown. I pull them off of him and then reach for a condom.
He presses into me with a sense of familiarity and relief washes over me. The past few months without him, I’ve felt homesick, and in this moment with him, I am home.
Afterward, we lie so still. His breaths are heavy and mine are short. I turn my back to him and pull the sheets over my naked body.
“Ethan?” The name is a whisper on my lips.
“Yeah?” His voice is low.
“I think that maybe I would always let you come back,” I confess. “Not that I would sit around waiting for you, but if you told me that you were ready and wanted me back, I’m not sure there’s anything that I wouldn’t drop for you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he pulls me in closer and molds himself to me, my back curved to his chest. I’ve missed being held by him. I’ve missed the way he smells. I’ve missed the way he feels. I’ve missed him.
We fall asleep like that, and it’s like a dream I never want to wake up from.
***
The next morning, I open my eyes to find my cheek pressed against Ethan’s bare chest, and I lift my head to make sure I didn’t drool on him. His light snoring calms me for a second until I remember where we are and that he’s not supposed to be here. I shoot up out of bed to put on clothes, throwing his onto the bed in the process.
“Good morning to you too,” he groans.
“Oh, shut it. We both know you need to go,” I demand. “Well, first I need to make sure no one’s home yet. Jordan might have slept here. I’ll be right back.”
“Jordan’s here?” He yawns.
I throw on a T-shirt before I head out of my room and scope out the situation. I see no purses on the counter or shoes tossed by the front door except Ethan’s. That would’ve been a dead giveaway if they came back here last night.
“Okay, you’re good,” I yell to him.
“It’s just barely eight a.m., and you thought those two would be home already?” He grabs his shoes but doesn’t bother putting them on. “Don’t you remember what they were like in college?”
“I didn’t know if Jordan slept out or not; that’s why I was worried,” I explain.
“Don’t worry so much.” He pulls me in for a hug and kisses my forehead. “Bye, Hart.”
“Bye,” I reply and close the door behind him.
I feel my entire face break out into a smile. I can’t help but feel excited and hopeful for another future with Ethan, even after what I just did to Reese.
Oh god, Reese.
I find my phone and to my surprise have no missed calls or texts from him. I decide to take a shower and think about how I’m going to handle this. I turn on the water and wait for it to get hot to the touch before I step in. I stand there for a minute and let the scorching water hit my skin before turning down the temperature a bit. A hot shower usually rights all my wrongs. Not this one though.
I don’t know what it is about Ethan that makes me forget everything and everyone else. We’ve always had this bond that doesn’t quite make sense. I think I’ve always known, deep down, that we probably won’t work out in the end. I still can’t help but hope that we do.