“I almost broke up with you over a furry rug,” she says. “Remember when Dallas asked Kassidy to formal with the furry rug from your room because they'd had sex on it?”
“Yeah, that asshole. I almost killed him for that. That was our rug.”
“You know, it wasn't until I saw the movie that I realized why you even had a girly green furry rug in your room. It was sweet of you to sleep on Keatyn's floor during Homecoming because you were afraid she was in danger.”
“I told her I was having a hot affair with her rug, so she gave it to me. And then one night you and I made out on it and, from that point on, all I could think about was doing you on it. Do you remember our first time?” I grab her hand and pull her toward the rug.
“Yeah, I was so nervous. It's not like I hadn't done it before but—”
“It was the first time it really meant something,” I say, finishing her sentence.
“I made you wait a long time.”
“Fifty-four days.”
“You remember how many days?” she says, a surprised smile forming on her face.
“Yeah. It was torture.”
“I suppose I was sort of purposely torturing you.” She grins. “You had a reputation for loving them and leaving them.”
“Still do,” I say with a laugh.
“Was there ever anyone serious?”
“I didn't sleep with anyone for six months after our graduation.”
“Really?” She closes her eyes. “Oh, Riley. Is it bad that makes me feel good?”
“Why does it make you feel good?”
“My dad said I was a passing fancy.”
“You weren't. Obviously. Now, I have a strict seventy-two hour rule. Once I hit that with the same girl, it’s time to move on. No feelings. No pain. You didn't tell me you married Collin. Remember when I punched him? Your parents were pissed. That's when they started on you, isn't it?”
She nods. “They said you were impulsive.”
“I was! Still am, actually.” I grab her face and kiss her, laying her back on the rug.
When she opens her eyes, she says, “Oh, Riley! Look at the twinkle lights on the ceiling! Aiden and Keatyn always had a thing for stars.”
“Makes you feel like you’re at The Cave when you are inside and warm.”
“Look, in the corner. Spelled out with stars. Class of 2004. That’s us too.”
I get up and pull her to her feet. “Let’s look at our names. Remember when we wrote them here? We used Keatyn’s Thanksgiving toast, which started a trend of putting our names together on the wall. Like the founders did.”
“Here are the founder’s names!” she says, running her hand across the top of the inscription as I read it.
“All who enter Stockton’s grotto
Swear to uphold our ultimate motto
Never speak of its location
Or risk a life of eternal damnation
For this is a place of legend and lore,
So, party on, friends,
Evermore.
Stanford Thacker III
Olivia Carder
Karoline Talbot
Oliver Nasbith
Class of 1972.”
“And here are ours!” she says.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments
when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.
(Thorton Wilder)
Riley Johnson
Ariela Ross
Aiden Arrington
Keatyn Douglas
Dallas McMahon
Logan Pedersen
Maggie Morgan
Class of 2004.”
While she’s reading, I’m remembering the day we signed it.
“I’m first! I’m the one who got the key,” I say, grabbing the marker from Keatyn after she writes our class quote on the wall.
I sign my name and then joke with Ariela as she writes her name in hot pink.
“You should just write Ariela Johnson, since that’s what it will be soon.”
“The L in your name overlaps the Y in mine. I remember thinking when we signed it that we’d be tied together forever. It’s weird coming back here and not being together.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.
“I remember exactly what you looked like that day. Your smile was bright. There was a bounce in your step. You were wearing my Eastbrooke athletics sweatshirt that was way too big on you. Sometimes you’d wear it without a bra and I couldn’t wait to sneak my hands up it.”
“You snuck your hands up it regardless of what was underneath, Riley.” She pauses and just looks into my eyes. “Thanks for tonight. I think I pushed all the memories of us deep down inside because they were painful. Now, they don’t feel that way. They’re just good memories. I know everyone will be here soon, so I just want to tell you that I remember what you said to me that night on the balcony. I don’t want to cause you anymore pain, Riley. The wedding is next week. If you still want me gone, I'll leave after it and stay out of all your lives.”
“I have a really busy week coming up,” I tell her.
“And I'll be onsite at the vineyard.”
“That’s probably good. It will give us both time to think about what we really want. So, at the wedding. We'll decide. Together.”