Rachel

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“WOULD YOU LIKE ANOTHER cup of coffee, Miss Dawson?” My academic advisor, Mr. Hinton, sat across from me Friday morning. “What about some tea?”

“I’ve already had two cups.”

“Oh, yeah.” He stared at me. “Would you like some extra cream, then?”

I held back a sigh. I’d been sitting in his office for twenty minutes and he’d filled the time with questions about beverages instead of explaining what his “urgent” and “important” email from weeks ago was about.

“I have someone I need to meet in an hour,” I said. “Is this just a regular check-in meeting?”

“Not exactly.” He shook his head. “This is about your credits here at the university.”

“Okay.” I smiled, knowing where he was going with this. “I’m aware that I’m still missing the required writing classes, but I plan on taking them both next semester since spelling and written analysis are still my weaknesses.”

“The writing classes aren’t the problem...” He pulled out a spreadsheet and handed it to me. “Right now, you’re technically classified as a junior at this university.”

“No, I’ve already taken three years of classes and I’m currently on year four. That makes me a senior.”

“Yeah well...” He cleared his throat. "Turns out, I forgot to tell you a little about how the credits work under the adjusted Semester at Sea policy. It was changed during your sophomore year, and it completely slipped my mind since you opted to do multiple years.” He had the audacity to smile. “But not to worry. It’s rather simple.”

He looked at me as if he was waiting for me to smile in return.

I didn’t.

“Okay, then," he said. "So, here on campus, every class is worth a total of three credit hours. On the ship, the same holds true for the core classes in your major, but your electives are only worth one and a half credits, as SAS partners teach those classes and not official university staff...You are awarded an additional half credit per course in the summer months, though, and the courses you took during the four-week stays in Thailand and Australia did result in two full credits so good for you.”

“Mr. Hinton, what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that if you want to graduate from this university, you have two options. Option number one, you can take three more semesters of courses here. That would mean this upcoming spring, this upcoming summer, and this upcoming fall. Or, you can attend a spring and part-summer session aboard the next Semester at Sea sailing. There's a repositioning voyage this winter as well—if you want to get a super head start. ”

My heart dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His eyes widened. "Miss Dawson, there's no need to use foul language. I'm just the messenger."

"You're the messenger who has just fucked up my plans." I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm planning to pursue a graduate degree next fall."

"And you can still do that...You just, you know, will have to pick the option that allows you to do so." He shook his head and looked down, not making eye contact. “I’m very sorry.”

“Why didn't anyone tell me about this policy change before?" I was seconds away from screaming. "Surely someone on the ship could’ve let me know. I would’ve gotten the hell off and completed the rest of my work here.”

Still refusing to make eye contact, he leaned back in his chair.

With every second that passed, all I could think about was how a little over three years ago, he'd sold me on this "once in a lifetime" program and assured me that the courses were the same as they were on campus. He’d said it was “better than regular college,” and I wouldn't have to make up any credits when I returned. He took my dad and me out to dinner every week to discuss it, wooed me with all new brochures, and made it his business to stay in contact with me as I made my decision.

I remembered writing his words verbatim in my letters to Ethan, insisting that I was the one who was doing college "the right way."

I had no desire to complete another term at sea, and I didn’t want to spend the next year and a half taking pointless, fluff courses.

“Is there a way I can talk to the dean, Mr. Hinton?” I asked, feeling tears prick my eyes.

“You can,” he said. “But you need to know that he’s the one who instituted the policy. He wanted to be sure that students weren't trying to take the easy way out.”

“There’s nothing easy about living on a ship with no Wi-Fi and strangers for three years.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I truly understand that you’re upset but—”

“You don't understand anything.” I cut him off and stood to my feet.  “You're telling me that I completed three years of college on a boat for shits and giggles.”

“I wouldn't necessarily say ‘shits and giggles,’ per se. I’m sure you learned a hell of a lot while you were away, and I’m sure you’ll treasure those experiences for a lifetime.”

"I would've if you'd told me that I was going to be the only freshman onboard for the first year, or if you would've told me that most people only do a semester at a time." I glared at him and picked up my purse. “I should’ve known you were full of it when you let me sign up for the program as a freshman.”

“A lot of freshmen do Semester at Sea, Miss Dawson.” He looked offended. “It varies from year to year. And you were happily signing off on all the final forms from what I remember.”

“Do you get a kickback or a bonus for every student who signs up for the longer terms?”

“What?” his face paled. “What the hell are you trying to say?”

“Nothing.” I headed to the door. “Your face says it all.”

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LATER THAT NIGHT, I sat in Ethan’s lap in the hot tub, looking out at the ocean. He was eyeing me intently, trailing his fingers against my lips.  Even though I was pissed about the state of my college career, I was sure that being with Ethan was what it felt like to be in a great relationship. If not, it had to be pretty damn close.

“Are you going to say something?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“Would you care if I did Semester at Sea again?”

“Depends.” He moved his hand away. “What would be the reason?”

“Because my dumbass advisor screwed me over.” My voice cracked. “Twenty-five percent of the credits I got onboard don’t count, so I’m technically still a junior. He said I can either do a spring and a part-time summer semester on board or do an additional year and a half here on campus. He even said I can get on board on the next winter departure, which is utter bullshit.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I haven't told him anything yet. I need to think about it.”

He caressed my back. “Well, if you go back, it’s not like we haven’t written each other letters before.”

“That was before we were a couple and started having sex.”

He smiled, letting out a low laugh. “You honestly think I would cheat on you while you were gone?”

“No...”

“Okay, then. What’s the problem?”

“I just need to think about it.” I leaned against his chest. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” he said. “I have good news.”

“Is it that Greg finally has a new girlfriend?”

“He does, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He kissed my lips. “I was accepted into Hudson University’s Accelerated MBA program. It’s in New York.”

“Oh.” I forced a smile, feeling my heart sink. “That’s... That’s great. What makes it accelerated?”

“The fact that I start next semester.” He kissed me again, much longer this time. “See? We’ll be separated again no matter what path you choose.”

“What happened to pursuing the writing programs, Ethan?” I asked. “You hate business.”

“Is that why I have all A’s in it?”

“You have all A’s in it because math and everything that's remotely connected to math has always come easily to you,” I said, looking into his eyes. “For someone who was always so hell-bent on telling me to pursue art, you going to Hudson makes you look like one hell of a hypocrite.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You’re upset about this?”

I didn’t answer.

He blinked and gently gripped my hips, moving me out of his lap. Then he stood up and stepped out of the hot tub.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘Congratulations,’ Rachel,” he said. “That’s typically the first thing someone says after finding out about an accomplishment.”

“I’ll give you a ‘congratulations’ when you get into a program you want to join. Something writing-related that'll help you finish the novel you've been working on since you were a freshman. You're still working on it, right?”

"Yes..." He clenched his jaw. "I told you I was going to finish it sometime next year."

"In your letters, you said you were eighty percent finished with it. Why not just complete it and apply to a few writing programs, instead of doing what your dad expects you to do? Instead of working toward receiving a company that you don’t even want to own?"

Silence.

“I don’t want to argue with you about this, Rachel," he said. "Not right now, anyway.”

“You're the one who’s making a scene and getting out of the hot tub.” I crossed my arms, and his lips curved into a smile. “It wasn't me being a hot head this time. I was just giving you my honest thoughts as your so-called girlfriend. I don’t remember reading about you arguing with any of your others.”

“I honestly don’t remember any of the others.” He laughed and bent down, pulling me out of the water. “How about we talk about something other than the future for the rest of the night?”

“I’d like that. What do you want to talk about?”

“I think we should discuss the fact that Greg is out of town for an entire weekend, and we have the entire house to ourselves.” He tugged the string of my bikini bottom, letting it fall into the hot tub. “And by 'discuss,' I'm not really interested in talking...”