Sincerely, Carter (4 page)

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Authors: Whitney G.

BOOK: Sincerely, Carter
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Shit.
“I meant Ridge View…” I’d looked it up on Google earlier.

“All high schools are currently out for the summer. The last day was this past Friday.” She snapped her fingers and motioned for me to get up. “Let’s go. You know the routine…”

I stood up and took my notebook back, following her out of the room and into the hallway. “Is stealing lectures and taking extra notes in a class really a crime?” I asked. “Who am I really hurting here?”

She waved her key card over the pad at the door. “
Out
.”

“Wait.” I stepped outside. “If I give you twenty dollars, will you go back and tell me what type of dough they’re using for the specialty cronuts? Maybe I can give you my email address and you can send it to me?”

She slammed the door in my face.

Ugh…
I tucked my notebook into my purse and heard familiar laughter. I looked up and realized it was the instructor from the “Understanding the Recipes” course.

“You think this is funny? I asked, feeling bold. “Kicking someone out of class?”

“It’s hilarious.” He laughed harder, looking at me. “And you weren’t
kicked out
of class, you were removed because I saw you going in there this morning.”

“You snitched on me? I thought you liked me…You don’t normally snitch on me.”

“I don’t,” he said. “But on test day, all bets are off. Can you not see the direct correlation between the times we have security remove you and the times we don’t?”

I was stunned.

“Exactly,” he said, patting my shoulder. “We all appreciate your passion, but test days are only for those who are actually paying tuition…I trust I’ll be seeing you more often since you’re out of college now, though?”

I nodded, and he laughed again, saying, “See you next weekend, Miss Turner,” before walking away.

Completely honored by the “appreciate your passion” comment, I smiled and wondered if I could later get him to write me an unofficial recommendation for a few other culinary schools I was waiting to hear back from.

Maybe a letter from him would help me get a scholarship?

I glanced at my watch and realized I had three hours to get ready for the college I was actually paying to attend; my graduation ceremony was today.

Track 3. All Too Well (3:42)

Yep…I definitely picked the wrong career path for my life…

I was officially convinced that Reeves University officials had held a secret meeting dedicated to listing the many ways that they could make this year’s ceremony the most boring yet.

Everything from the twenty minute organ prelude to induct the doctorates, to the thirty minute video that recapped the university’s best features, to the fact that they’d booked five different speakers.

I’d sat through nearly all of them, scrolling through social media newsfeeds and twiddling my thumbs, but the fourth speaker of the day had definitely mastered the art of sounding as monotonous as possible. Every other line was “And then I remember,” “I wish I’d known,” or “I’m not making this up, kids…Hahaha.”

There was never any laughter from the audience afterwards. Only silence. And snores.

I covered my mouth so I could yawn yet again, and the girl sitting next to me stretched out her arms and rested her head on my shoulder. Without my permission.

“Um...” I looked at her.

“Yes?” She looked right back at me.

“Um…Do I even know you? Why would you just lay on me?”

She blinked.

“No, really.
Why
are you laying on me?”

“Shhh!” She adjusted her position and shut her eyes.

I was tempted to jerk away and leave her hanging, but I decided to make the most out of the situation. I looked at the girl to my left—at the vacant shoulder that was calling my name, and leaned onto it.

Several minutes later, and once the speaker said he was “almost done” for the umpteenth time, my phone vibrated with a text from my mom.

I’m sorry, hon, but I can’t sit through another second of this. I got plenty of pictures of you walking across the stage, though! Oh! And I got a lot of you at the department ceremony earlier! I’ll see you at home for your party! I’m making crab-cakes! Be there by seven!

You’re my mother and you’re leaving my college graduation EARLY? Really?

I actually wanted to leave TWO HOURS AGO, but because I’m your mother I stayed a little longer. Love you!

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t blame her. I texted, “Love you too, see you soon,” and looked up into the arena. Some members of the audience were getting the exact same idea.

Hell, even some of the graduates were feeling the same way. The ones that still had the energy to get up, that is.

Before I could figure out what I wanted to do, my phone vibrated once more. Carter.

Are you awake right now?

I am.

I texted back.

I’m finding this speech quite inspiring. If you try to pay attention, you might learn something today.

Bullshit. What is this guy even talking about?

I listened to the speaker for a few minutes, honestly not understanding why he was now talking about a dead goldfish, but I pretended I did anyway.

He’s talking about taking chances, trying scary risks, and learning that just one of them is bound to pay off.

You’re so full of it, Ari. You should leave.

I want to listen to the rest.

Then I hope you have another way to get to your graduation party since I just saw your mom leave…

What? I don’t remember rushing you out of YOUR college graduation. I sat through the entire thing!

I wasn’t depending on you for a ride home . You’ve got five minutes.

I’ll meet you there in ten.

I gently pushed my neighbor off my shoulder and stood up.

“Sometimes, you just have to stay until the end,” the speaker said a little louder, louder than he’d been for his never-ending speech. “I wish I would’ve stayed until the end of a lot of speeches when I was younger…I definitely wished I would’ve listened to the entire speech at my college graduation…”

What?
I turned around, looking to see if he was not-so-subtly referring to me.

He was. He nodded and gestured for me to return to my seat.

“You never know what you’ll miss out on…” he said.

I took a step back.

“This could be the most important speech of your life…”

I took another step back.

“And you might regret it for the rest of your—”

I turned around and rushed out of the room, hearing the laughter and applause of my classmates behind me. When I made it to the hallway, I looked back to see other students following my lead and joining the exodus.

College was officially over…

I took off my cap and gown and met Carter in the parking lot. “Since you made me leave early, you have to stop at Gayle’s before we go to my graduation party.”

“Do we have to sit inside?”

“I’m shocked you even have to ask…” I got into the car and he let the top down on his black Camaro—quickly speeding away to the diner.

Gayle’s was the number one waffle house and sweets company on the beach. It was so popular that the company bought mobile-store trucks and drove them around campus during its season.

The menu wasn’t anything special; it was beyond simple with its typical home-style American breakfast fare. What set it apart from anywhere else was the 1950s atmosphere and the undeniable this-shit-is-the-best-I’ve-ever-had-in-my-life waffle recipe. For years, the locals jokingly accused them of using crack in their batter to get people to come back so often, so the owner started boxing the batter in tins with the word “CRACK” written right on front.

Gayle’s was also the only restaurant that had a ten page menu solely dedicated to their desserts, and they added new options and concoctions every week.

I’d pulled countless all-nighters, hosted several dates, and even held a birthday party there before. But no matter what, it was where me and Carter met up whenever life veered left and we needed to talk, or whenever there was nothing else better to do.

We met there so often that sometimes his other friends would simply show up if they needed him instead of calling him on the phone.

“Let me guess,” the waitress rolled in front of us on her white skates as soon as we entered. “A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips for one order, and a waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and candy on the side for the second order?”

We both nodded. We ordered the exact same thing every time we came here.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be right with you.”

We took a seat in a booth by the bay windows—in perfect view of the tourists who were starting their annual takeover of the beach.

“I’m going to miss this so much…” I said. “If I don’t get into anywhere else soon, I’ll have to accept the offer from that culinary school in Cleveland. I don’t think they have a beach, though…Or a restaurant that’s similar to this one.”

“They don’t have much of anything. It’s
Cleveland
.”

I laughed. “Just try not to rub it in since you’re lucky enough to be staying here for law school.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you ocean-view pictures every day.”

“Here you two are.” The waitress set down our orders and I swiped a spoonful of yogurt from Carter’s plate.

“Ugh!” I swallowed it. “How can you eat that? The words ‘chocolate’ and ‘yogurt’ should never be allowed anywhere near each other.”

He swiped a spoonful of my vanilla yogurt in return. “It’s not like vanilla is that much better. There’s no flavor in that whatsoever.”

I shrugged and picked a few Oreos from his toppings cup while he picked a few strawberry chips from mine.

As I was stealing one of his peanut butter swirls, a few members of his college basketball team walked inside—super loud and obnoxious. Spotting Carter, they immediately walked over and shook his hand—asking a few brief questions, leaving Carter plenty of room to congratulate them on a hard fought season. Plenty of time for them to reminisce on his short-lived, yet high-profile freshman season.

The team had actually been quite terrible this year, posting the worst record in all of college basketball. And although his former teammates would never say it to his face, I’m sure they wondered if he’d lied about his diagnosis years ago, if he used his sudden ACL injury as an excuse to walk away from everything.

“Do you miss it?” I asked, after they’d said their goodbyes.

“I miss the groupies.”

“You still have groupies. Just a different type.”

“Well, in that case…” His eyes followed the team out of the store. “I never did appreciate other people unloading their expectations onto me when I had my own. So, no. I don’t miss being a part of that at all.”

“Totally understand. Speaking of which, when it comes to things we miss and don’t miss…” I took out my phone and pulled up my secret “Long-term Relationship Compatibility” spreadsheet. I never told Carter it actually existed because I was sure he’d find a way to get me to delete it.

“What is one thing you wish you could’ve done differently in regards to your relationship with Emily?” I asked.

“I wish I’d never met her.”

“Come on…” I started to type. “This always helps me know what not to do in my next relationship, so I’ll go first. In me and Scott’s case, I could’ve tried to talk to him about my reservations about intimacy a lot sooner.”

“No, you could’ve tried
fucking
.”

“And you could’ve tried
barking
.” I snapped. “Maybe then Emily’s meowing wouldn’t have seemed so weird if you’d given it a chance.”

“Oh?” He laughed. “Did I just touch a nerve? Are you that sexually frustrated?”

“No.” I tossed a gummy bear at his face. “Although, it would be nice to have some amazing sex before I leave for culinary school.”

“Then have some. I can help you with that.”


What
?” I gave him a death stare. “Not with you. Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m definitely not talking about sex with me.” He stole my last bite of waffle and stood up. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me…”

I rolled my eyes. “Please!”

“Seriously though, I don’t have much to do outside of work for the next few months,” he said, “so I’ll help you find a guy—or two or three, just for sex. As a matter of fact, we’ll start the search tonight right after your graduation party.”

“Are you sure you won’t try to convince me to leave that early, too?”

“Not unless you somehow manage to make me fall asleep.” He laughed and pulled me up, leading me out of the store.

As we sped back across the pier with the sun setting behind us in the distance, I realized I was already starting to miss this part of my life.

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