Track 6. Tell Me Why
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 Ethan and me 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.
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.”
“Speaking of sex,” he said. “I meant what I said in my last letter to you. I think if you had less fictional sex with your book boyfriends, you wouldn’t be such a hothead all the time. I think that’s why it’s so hard for you to stay in relationships or make friends.”
“First of all, book boyfriends are real,” I said. “Second of all, I used to be a hothead when we were kids, but mostly because a certain neighbor of mine went out of his way to torture me every day. He has yet to apologize for making me hate my childhood.”
“You made me hate mine, too.” He sipped his drink.
“Also, I have plenty of friends, Ethan.” I smiled at the bartender who sent over a margarita. “They’re all excited for me to be back on campus.”
“Then why can’t you go live with one of them instead of me?”
I didn’t answer that. I leaned back and watched everyone on the dance floor.
“Wait a minute.” I spotted a familiar face in a blue polo shirt. “Is that Jordan Hampton by the DJ booth?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“He’s not sick anymore?”
“Anymore?” Ethan raised his eyebrow. “When was he sick the first time?”
“When we dated two voyages ago,” I said, watching as he caressed a brunette’s ass. “He stopped writing because he found out he had stage four cancer, and he said that he wanted to spend his final days with his family and closest friends.”
Ethan’s lips curved into a smile. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” I kept my eyes on him, remembering how we’d bonded over our love of painting abstracts, how we’d wake up early in the morning and ride the exercise bikes around the top deck.
“Out of all the guys I dated at sea, I liked him the most. He told me he had feelings for me, and he was the first guy friend I met who actually read romance.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pick up a book for any of the classes we took together, so I highly doubt he read anything—let alone romance.”
“So, why would he say all that stuff to me, then?” I asked, feeling my skin heating. “Why would he lie about being sick? Or, wait. Maybe he got better and forgot to write me?”
Ethan gave me a confused look and took my margarita from my hand. “Look, Rachel. He’s never been sick to my knowledge. He clearly just wanted to break up with you. Don’t take it personal, and don’t get into your hothead mode over something like this. I’m not dealing with that shit in college.”
“I’m not a hothead anymore, Ethan.” I reached for my drink, but he didn’t give it back. “And like I’ve said before, I was only like that when you pissed me off.”
Jordan’s eyes suddenly met mine from across the room and he looked as if he was going to rush away, but I stood to my feet and stormed right over.
“Oh … Hey there, Rachel.” He smiled uneasily. “I thought you were doing all four years on the SS World Odyssey.”
“I chose not to renew for the final year.” I crossed my arms, glaring at him.
“Well, good for you,” he said. “You look really good tonight.”
“Yeah? Well, so do you. You look pretty damn great for someone who supposedly died.”
“What can I say?” He smiled. “It’s a miracle.”
“I believed you, Jordan,” I said, raising my voice. “Why would you lie to me about something like that?”
“Okay, look, Rachel, don’t take this personally but …” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You’re a nice girl and all, like really nice, but …”
“But what?”
“I was trying to fuck and you weren’t, okay?
” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “That’s it.
You were talking about a long-term relationship after we’d only dated for two months, and we hadn’t even fucked once.
I liked you, but not enough to keep writing you letters and shit like we were in a long-distance relationship. ”
“You did write me a letter. One.”
“Well, I’m honestly shocked I wrote that.” He laughed.
“It was the one where you clearly lied about having a life-threatening disease!” I pushed his hands away. “Thank you for finally being honest, but just so you know, I would’ve fucked you eventually!”
Everyone in the bar suddenly became quiet, and the DJ turned down the music.
“I’m very sorry, Rachel,” he said, lowering his voice. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”