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She was the smarter girl I knew. A writer with natural talent, and an A student. I was barely a C student, and I only tried hard enough for those grades so that I could still play lacrosse and run track. I knew college wasn’t in my future, and Chanel had a chance to go Ivy League. I didn’t want to mess that up for her.
But, fuck, could I have let her down a better way?
Apparently not.
Of course, I kept tabs on Chanel since high school. I wanted to know how she was doing at Cornell. If she was happy. If she was moving on with her life. She was amongst the top of her class, running the school newspaper and constantly on the front page with shit that affected their college community. She graduated a semester early and took a paid internship with The New York Times. Now, she had her own blog that generated thousands of views and comments and shares. Now, she was selling her own individual voice to online and paper publications.
She was making something of herself.
I couldn’t have been prouder of her. Even in my darkest moments in combat, her happiness was the only thing prayed for. She was better off without me.
Who the hell was I? Rhett Smith. A fucking jock from the wrong side of town, dating the best thing to happen to him and kidding himself all along.
“Earth to Rhett. You there, man?”
“Sorry. What was that?” I asked.
“Holy fuck, really? I’ve been rambling on for the last ten minutes, and you weren’t even listening?” Tommy asked.
“Let me guess. You were talking about all the pussy you’re gonna eat on this cruise,” I said.
“Well, that wasn’t all of it. I was also asking you about all those island excursions. You picked yours yet?” he asked.
“I thought that shit didn’t happen until we got on the ship.”
“Well, not officially, but I figured you would’ve at least looked this shit up to figure out where on the islands you want to tap some ass,” he said.
“Nope. Haven’t done any intense research on this trip. Honestly? It’s a great deal on a fresh start for me. I’m out of the SEALs. I’m trying to figure out what my next fucking move is. A booze cruise with nothing on but my bathing suit for a whole week sounds nice,” I said.
“Oh, dude. I didn’t even think about that. Yes. Fresh start. Oh, shit. You know what we could do?” he asked.
“What?”
“Get you laid,” he said.
“Was that not already on the agenda?” I asked with a grin.
“And he’s back, ladies and gentlemen! Another round of drinks for my friend here. We’re celebrating the next leg of our adventure together.”
The bar couldn’t have cared less, but I was excited. I didn’t know what seeing Chanel was going to bring, but I knew one thing for sure.
This would be the perfect way to clean my slate and start all over.
Chapter 3
Chanel
Ana and I drove to the port and stayed over-night in a hotel near the site. I wanted to get there a day early, so I could get some pictures. I wasn’t a professional photographer by any means, but Ana did have a fun idea for my blog. I could take pictures and document the cruise with everyone from my high school years. I could make it an opinion piece on the psychological dichotomy people experience in high school when they feel like those are the best years of their lives. I was going to give my own testimony of high school, complete with Rhett’s and my disaster story, and then juxtapose it with pictures of how everyone was doing.
With their permission, of course.
I was going to title it “When You Think the Best Is Over.” The moral of this week-long saga would be living proof that high school doesn’t always harbor the best. I was going to make a point that it was easy to glamorize it when looking back on it, but that doesn’t mean it was the best. I wanted to show people that life could be enjoyed during all stages, even when getting together only to reminisce about the past.
I announced it on my blog to get a feel for its audience, and I had thousands of people flood my comments section saying they couldn’t wait.
But now, I was nervous. Friday had come around, and we were preparing to board, and my eyes couldn’t stop scanning the crowd. I saw a lot of people I remembered. Our class president and the captain of the cheerleading squad stood near the ship. I followed her line of sight and saw the quarterback of our football team already grinding up on someone. Ana’s arm was linked with mine as my camera hung around my neck, ready to snap pictures.
“ID and tickets, please.”
