One More Time_A Second Chance Romance Read online

  But she was right. The closer we got to the date of the reunion, the more I was replaying that memory in my head. It was like a broken record, skipping on repeat. I couldn't stop it no matter how hard I fought, and the longer I stood there embracing Ana, the bigger the lump in my throat got.

  “What happened that night, Chanel? You still won’t talk about it,” Ana said.

  “Fuck, Ana. It was a nightmare. I still can’t belief it went down the way it did that night.”

  I could remember as if it were yesterday. We planned on waiting until prom night to have sex for the first time, but the week before, we’d gone too far and ended up doing it in the back of his car, quick and dirty. I hadn’t regretted it. I loved him, and I’d been happy he’d been my first. Rhett, however, had wanted to make it up to me. We’d told our parents that we were going to stay at a friend’s house for an after party, and Rhett had his older brother rent us a hotel room and buy us a bottle of champagne. He wanted to make it a romantic night for us – or so I thought.

  I shook my head and looked up at Ana. “I had gone to the bathroom and Rhett had told me to meet him in the limo, so we could go to the hotel. I was so excited, Ana.”

  “I remember,” Ana said, her voice tinged with sadness.

  I took a breath and continued. “When I got to the car and opened the door, Rhett was there with his pants around his ankles and some other girl I’d never seen before in his lap.

  I turned and tried to run, but my damn heel got caught and I fell right on the sidewalk.”

  I rubbed my knee absently, like I could still feel the pain. Part of me always would, I guess.

  “Fuck, Chanel. Is that why you don’t wear heels anymore?” she asked.

  “I’d never felt more weak and vulnerable in my life. I was crying on the damn sidewalk. I fucking hated that night, I hated that dress, and I hated those damn heels. I felt beautiful that night, Ana. Until he ruined it. And, all the beauty in the world didn’t matter because I still lost him.”

  I panned my gaze up to my best friend as she nodded in understanding.

  “Then this cruise isn’t gonna be about starting new,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “This cruise is gonna be about reclaiming what’s rightfully yours. Chanel, we’re getting your confidence back. Plus, who knows, you might get bid on by some super-hot rich motherfucker who will rock your world.”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “You can ‘whatever’ me all the way to my car.”

  “I thought we were taking mine?”

  “Girl, I know you better than that. I saw that backpack in the back seat of your car. I know what’s in there. We’re taking mine. You aren’t sneaking those ratty clothes onto that damn cruise.”

  “I’m not wearing heels and skirts the entire time,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. You’ve got flip flops in there, and I packed you a few surprises while you were buried in your thoughts. You’ll like them, trust me. Now come on, we’re gonna be late.”

  CHAPTER 2

  RHETT

  Fuck. Am I really do this?

  “You ready for a fucking good time, bro?” Tommy asked.

  Tom waved for the bartender to order another round of drinks for us.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I said.

  “Come on. You know it’s gonna be awesome. Think about all the hot chicks we went to school with. You know how hot they’re all gonna be now?” he asked.

  “Or they could all be moms that let themselves go and have four kids and drink like fish just to feel young again,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah. Life of the party over here. You mean to tell me we’re about to take a week-long cruise in the Caribbean, and you’re not the least bit excited?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I leaned back in my chair.

  “Rhett. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that girl you wasted the best years of your life on,” Tommy said.

  “It doesn’t matter. She probably doesn’t even remember me anyway,” I said.

  “You know who I’m hung up on? That girl’s best friend. What was her name?”

  “Ana?” I asked.

  “Was that her name? What’s-her-face’s friend?”

  “Really? You don’t remember any of their names?” I asked.

  “I’m shocked you do. With all the pussy you slayed as a SEAL, I’m surprised you’re letting this chick piss on your good time.”

  “Her name was Chanel, and her friend’s name was Ana.”

  “Fuck. That chick had some curves in high school. You think she’s still got them now?” he asked.

  “Chanel or Ana?” I asked.

  “We are not focusing on Chanel. That girl broke your heart,” he said.

  “Nope. I broke hers.”

  “Then what the fuck’s the problem?”

  The problem was I had left my heart in pieces right next to hers. That had been the worst night of my life. I knew I’d had a lot to drink, we all had. Someone snuck some vodka in and spiked the punch, just like in all those old cheesy 80’s movies. I don’t remember being so drunk that I would fuck some random girl in the limo while waiting for Chanel. I don’t even know who the girl was, I just remember the look on Chanel’s face when she’d opened the door and caught us.

  And worst part of it was I didn’t go after her. I avoided her until after graduation when I left for the Navy. I’d always known she deserved so much more than I could offer. Subconsciously, I knew that she wouldn’t break up with me, unless I first broke her heart.

  In a way, the universe gave me what I wanted – as fucking twisted as was.

  “Well, I know Connie Thomas isn’t married,” Tommy said.

  “Our class president? That woman’s crazy,” I said.

  “And it’s the crazy ones who always have the tightest pussies.”

  “You’ve fucking got that right,” I said.

  “Emma isn’t either. And neither is Lauren.”

  “Emma Deese? The cheerleading captain? I thought she married Brian.”

  “Nope. They were engaged, but he was apparently cheating on her. Poor Emma. I bet she hasn’t rebounded yet.”

  “And I bet you have just the words to comfort her,” I said.

  “Oh, my tongue can do some serious talking,” he said.

  “And who the hell is Lauren?” I asked.

  “You don’t remember Lauren? That chick who was all over you freshman year?”

  “The one with the coke bottle glasses?” I asked. “Have you gotten that desperate?”

  “Desperate? You haven’t looked at the RSVP list have you?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Then how did you know Chanel was going to be there?”

  “I didn’t, but thanks for confirming that little tidbit. That’s sure to make this trip a fucking blast.”

  “Dick. Anyway, Lauren’s fucking hot now, a bit thin, but I can work with that. Long as I can suckle on those nipples of hers, I can make do with everything else.”

  “You're a mess,” I said.

  “And you should be one. You’re in the prime of your life. You’re a fucking SEAL. You’ve got muscles I wish I had, and you’ve got that brooding stare that makes women want to fix you. You’ll be drowning in pussy, if not from our high school class, then from the exotic women we’ll be meeting on this cruise, on these islands. Man, get your head in the game. It’s time to get your shit together.”

  I chuckled and shook my head as the bartender brought us another round of drinks.

  “Retired, SEAL.”

  “In all realness, man, I’m glad you’re home for good. This only seeing you when you’re stateside shit was getting old,” Tommy said.

  “You glad to have the dream team back together?” I asked.

  “Yep. And I’m ready to take this dream team on this cruise. It’s gonna be amazing, even though you’re already trying to shit on it.”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I
’m just thinking.”

  “Since when did you start thinking?” he asked.

  “Since I realized I was an adult?”

  “That’s bullshit. This cruise isn’t supposed to have us acting like adults, only indulging in adult whims.”

  “Despite what you think, I am excited about it. Got my shit packed and everything,” I said.

  “We riding separately, or we taking my car?”

  “Why can’t we take my car?” I asked.

  “Because you’re a shit driver. Remember what happened the last time?”

  “What? You don’t like the way I drive my cars?”

  “You drive them like they’re tanks. I’d like to live to see this cruise. I really wanna know what Emma’s pussy tastes like,” he said.

  “Fine. Fine. We’ll take your car. But you’re paying for dinner,” I said with a grin.

  “See? There’s the Rhett I’ve been looking for. Good to have you back, brother.”

  “Good to be back,” I said.

  I was nervous about this trip. I hadn’t even seen Chanel since that night, much less spoken to her. What took place that night was a train wreck. She came prepared for the night of her life, and I broke her damn heart. Hell, I trampled it and left it out on the gutter. I’d replayed that night over and over in my head for years to come, and I still couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for how I ended up under that girl.

  I’d held Chanel close all night long. I’d danced with her, and kissed her all night long. I’d planned to take her to that room my brother had rented for us, open that bottle of champagne, and make love to her like she deserved, instead of the sloppy fuck in the back of my car we’d had the week before.

  Apparently, sloppy fucks in the back of a car, were my specialty. But with Chanel, it was special. No one else could ever compare.

  I’d tried so many times over the years to figure out what had happened. Had I been so careless and drunk to know who I was with at that moment? Had I sabotaged us, and broken us both in the process in some misguided attempt to let her go?

  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.”

  Ana and I pulled out everything we needed before we could board. We were handed a sheet of paper of the island excursions we could take once we docked at all the ports we were set to dock at. Ana was giggling and squealing, ready for a good time as we wheeled our shit behind us.

  But my eyes were still scanning the crowd, looking for Rhett.

  “Come on. Let’s get to our rooms,” Ana said.

  Before we could get to our rooms, we were stopped by Connie, the class president.

  “Oh, my gosh. I am so glad you guys are here.”

  “Hey there, Connie,” Ana said. “How are you?”

  “I am so good. I’m shocked at the turnout for this cruise! Are you guys? Anyway, Chanel. You are, like, royalty to our class right now. I follow your blog like crazy! I’m so excited you’re doing a piece on the cruise.”

  “I announced that last night,” I said.

  “Oh, I subscribe. I know when you post.”

  “Creepy,” Ana said, under her breath.

  “Anyway, I sent out a little blast to the RSVP list online. I told everyone about the fun little thing you’re doing, and most of them are up for it. A few haven’t responded, but you can take pictures whenever you want and check it against that list for permission. I thought that might make it a little easier,” Connie said.

  “Thanks. I think,” I said.

  “So, here are your itine
raries,” Connie said.

  “We have schedules?” Ana asked.

  “Oh, yes. It’s not a hard schedule, but we have certain meetups throughout the week for all of us to get together. Isn’t that fun? Tonight there’s a dinner for all of us to hang out and talk and catch up. I rented us out one of the entire ballrooms. You’re welcome,” Connie said.

  “Uh-huh,” Ana said.

  “We travel two days to get to the first port,” I said.

  “We do. And it’s going to be so. Much. Fun. Anyway, make sure you’re there for all the get-togethers, Chanel. It’ll make for some wonderful pictures!”

  “Yay,” I said, my sarcasm completely lost on Connie.

  I watched Connie bound away as Ana dragged me down the hallway. We slid into the elevator with our stuff and went to find our room. I was nervous as fuck. I knew Rhett was going to be here any moment, if he wasn’t already on the ship. I was wondering when I would run into him. Would he be at the dinner tonight? Surely not all this get-together shit was mandatory, but maybe he would go?

  “Okay, I think this is our floor,” Ana said.

  We stepped off the elevator and started filtering through numbers. We were standing in front of room 626, so we took a right and started walking. We were moving toward the back of the ship where all the activities were and the balcony that overlooked the open expanse of the floor-level deck.

  But when I looked down the hallway to continue searching, I saw him.

  Rhett.

  Standing right in front of me.

  His eyes lifted toward mine, and I froze. My blood was boiling as he stood there in shock. He was beautiful, more beautiful than I remembered him. His arms were strong, and his shoulders were wide. They held a breadth of strength I knew was pulsing underneath his shirt. His jaw was sharp, and his cheeks were high. His skin was tan, glistening with life and hope and sexual energy. His lips were wet and pink, and his brooding brown eyes were gazing right into mine.

  I watched him put his hand on the handle of his door as he walked into his room.

  I watched him disappear into his room as I let out the breath I was holding. I was shaking, raging at the memory of him. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was slap him. I thought I’d left the hurt and anger behind me but, apparently, I was wrong. One look at him and the humiliation came flooding back to me. But, unexpectedly, so did the love I’d once felt for him. And, damn it, if he wasn’t still beautiful.