No Regrets

by Roxy Queen

  I sit up and glare at her. “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem is that you’ve really turned into a self-absorbed drama queen.”

  “That’s not fair! You saw the website.”

  “So what? You look like a stupid college girl having fun. No one cares, Zadie. Except you, because you think everything is about you, all the time.”

  Anger boils under my skin. And hurt. “What the hell, Tricia? That whole website was about me. It’s not like I’m making this up. He sent it to the whole school!”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “I know. And I’m sorry that happened to you, but it’s not the end of the world, you know? Except I think you want it to be. I think that ever since high school you’ve managed to take normal events and turn them into something tragic. You need to lighten up and let it go.”

  “Easy for you to say. No one cares what you’ve been doing,” I say harshly.

  She recoils back from my words. “Wow. Are you serious?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Like what? That I don’t matter? That no one matters but you and the little circle you’ve been running in?”

  “Of course you matter.”

  “Do I? Do you even know that I’m dating someone? Seriously dating them? Did you know Josh and Davey broke up?”

  “They did?” I ask, trying to remember the last time we’d hung out. I’d skipped the last couple of Thursday Motorhead nights to be with Henry instead.

  She throws her hands in the air. “Let me know when you’re ready to deal with life again, okay?” she says and walks off.

  Tricia’s words cut like a knife, deep and painful. The worst part is that maybe she’s right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After our fight, or whatever happened between Tricia and I, we steer clear of one another. Via text, Henry makes it clear he’s giving me time, but only so much. He does manage to close the accounts on Tumblr and YouTube and the leadership in the Greek system has banned any further distribution of the photos. I feel better, but only a little bit.

  Once something hits the internet it’s out there forever.

  I realize how much I love Henry’s perseverance. I love that he loves me. But the nagging feeling in my stomach and chest make me skeptical that he’s up for it. The stuff Tricia said makes me wonder if she’s right, am I just using different people to save my ass. Tyler couldn’t handle my post-Elton depression, he didn’t rescue me, so what did I do? I ran.

  “Hey, girl,” Josh says through my closed door. I’m in my pajamas and haven’t showered in four days. At this point I can’t decide what hurts worse. The fallout with Tricia or the other stuff.

  “Hey,” I call back.

  He cracks open the door. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay, I guess.” I wave him in. “I heard about you and Davey. I’m sorry.”

  “Eh,” he shrugs. “Just a fling, I guess. It was fun while it lasted.”

  “I should have been around though, for you and Tricia. I got kind of caught up in everything this summer.”

  “That’s what summer and college is about. Love and sex, doing stupid shit.”

  “Making out with girls in a tawdry wet T-shirt contest.”

  He smiles big. “Totally. Hopefully in the end we’ll find ourselves. Worst case? We grow up.”

  “Growing up sucks.”

  “You know, this reminds me of that summer in high school after junior year when we watched all eleven seasons of Beverly Hills 90210. Remember how Dylan and Brenda were dating and then her parents made her to go Paris for the summer with Donna, and Dylan and her BFF Kelly hooked up in the swimming pool while she was gone? Remember that?”

  “Vividly.”

  “Everyone hated Brenda for being pissed and really Kelly was the whore who stole her boyfriend, which who could blame her. Luke Perry was hot back then.”

  “Stupid Kelly.” I shake my fist in mock anger. “I think I’m missing the point of relevancy here.”

  “Okay, it’s not really relevant I just wanted to talk about it.”

  I hit him with my pillow. “You’re such a goof.”

  “A handsome goof,” he says, catching his reflection in the mirror. He toys with his hair.

  “Definitely. Are you sure you aren’t mad at me? Tricia seems mad.”

  “Oh yeah, Tricia is totally mad. You’re going to have to fix that.”

  “I can try.”

  “Of course you can. Now, there’s a sad boy sitting on the futon and I can’t get him to leave. Can he come in?”

  I plop back on my pillow and groan, pulling the covers over my head.

  “He’s adorable and he’s been really patient. Normally, post-breakup, I would say that boys suck, but he doesn’t. He may be the best thing ever so, I’m letting him in regardless of what you say.”

  “Wait! What?” I panic. “Traitor!” My vanity may be why I’m being dramatic but he rolls his eyes and walks off, leaving my door wide open. I swipe at my greasy hair, irritated that he showed up like this, but my heart betrays me by kick-starting for the first time in days. That is, until I see green eyes instead of blue and it sputters to a stop.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Tate. He’s hulking in my doorway looking concerned.

  “I came to see you.”

  “I’m alive. I’m good. Just, you know, taking some personal time.” I flash him a fake smile hoping it will do the trick and he’ll leave. Instead he enters the room and sits down. Crap.

  “You wouldn’t take my calls.”

  “There wasn’t anything to say.”

  “I would have said I was sorry. You could have said you were pissed. We could have hashed it out.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Let’s talk about it.” He shifts a little and I notice the bruising on the side of his cheek and under his eye. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  He rubs the bruise, wincing at the tenderness. “Oh, I kicked Eric’s ass.”

  “You what?” I sit up in the bed. “Holy crap! What happened?”

  “I went to his house to talk and things escalated pretty fast. The neighbors called the cops and we both got arrested.” He shrugs like this is no big deal.

  “Um, arrested? Are you kidding me?”

  “Dude has had it coming for a long time. All the crap he put Lisa through and then those emails he sent out about you. He needed to learn a lesson about respecting women.”

  I stare at Tate for a minute trying to figure out if I should explain what “respecting women” really means, but I’m so overwhelmed by his gesture that I give him a hug instead.

  “You’re such an idiot,” I tell him. “You slept with his wife, Tate. He had a reason to come after you.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t have a reason to come after you.”

  My heart turns to mush. “Does Henry know you did this?”

  “Oh yeah, he bailed me out. Well, he called my parents and had them bail me out, but yeah, he knows.”

  “This is such a mess.”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Eric is a douche. You got caught up in his psycho behavior. None of that was about you. It was all about me and Lisa. He admitted that he wanted to hurt someone close to me, so he picked you. That’s when I punched him in the face.”

  “That’s sort of awesome of you.”

  “I think so,” he grins. He bends his arm and flexes his biceps. “Gotta use these guns for something.”

  “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist. “Thank you for being a good friend, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Tate’s chest heaves up and down and he says, “Lisa’s pregnant.”

  I drop my arms and stare at him. He doesn’t look as panicked as I do. “Is it yours?”

  “She says it’s not, that it happened when they were on family vacation.” I can see, admitting that she was still having sex with her husband is hard for him. It’s also obvious he’s a little s
ad the baby may not be his. Damn. Tate’s a mess for this woman. “But we’ll have to see when the baby gets here.”

  “So wow, you may be a dad.”

  “Yep.”

  “But you may not be.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So what do you do about that?”

  “Wait it out. Finish my senior year, get a job.”

  “Are you going to keep seeing her? Are they still getting a divorce?”

  “I’m going to back off a little bit and let them figure that out.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, leaning into him again. We sit together and I breathe in his clean, warm scent. I realize Josh may be right. College is about figuring it all out, having fun and making mistakes. I’ve done all three, but it may be time to grow up.

  *

  Bolstered by my conversation with Josh and Tate, I finally take a shower. I wash my hair and shave my legs. Once I toss on clean clothes, I truly feel like a new person.

  “Oh thank God,” Josh says as I pass by him on the way to the door. “I thought I was going to have to get out the hose and spray you down with bleach.”

  I flip him off.

  Downstairs, Charlie opens the door and a cloud of smoke pours out. He lifts a purple bong in my direction. “Hey, Zadie. Wanna smoke?”

  “No thanks.” I peek around him to see if Henry’s in the room. He’s not. “Is Henry here?”

  “He’s in his room, go on back.”

  I pass the others on the couch. Syd and another guy they play Frisbee with. I stick my head in Henry’s door since it’s not fully closed. He’s lying on his bed playing with his phone. “Hi,” I say when he doesn’t notice me.

  His face lights up and I’m overwhelmed with how happy I am to see him. Before he has a chance to respond I rush the bed, barely stopping to kick off my shoes before climbing into his arms.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I say.

  “You smell clean,” he says, pressing his nose in my hair.

  “You should have seen me thirty minutes ago.” I rest my head on his chest, my ear pressed against his warm body. “The last couple of days have been really hard.”

  “You’re tough, Zadie.”

  “Did Tate really fight Eric?”

  His chest vibrates with laughter. “It was epic. I can’t believe you missed it.”

  “I think I’m okay with missing that, even though I’m glad he did it,” I say. “He told me about Lisa, too.”

  “The baby?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know how he’s going to handle all of it.”

  “Me neither, but he’s also tough. We’re a group of tough kids. We can take whatever comes our way.” He’s kidding, but there’s truth in his words. Growing up sucks. He slips his fingers through mine. “How are you?”

  “Okay, I guess. Tricia’s pissed at me. Josh made me laugh and somehow Tate is my knight in shining armor.”

  “Hey! What about me?”

  “You? You’re just the guy I sleep with, who’s really, really cute.”

  “I can accept that role.”

  “I think I’ve just got to figure out how to navigate life better. My normal seems to be sort of one train wreck after the other.”

  “You’re ridiculous, you know.” Henry leans over and kisses me. His fingers move to the waist of my shorts and his warm fingers against my skin feel wonderful. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “Tricia thinks I’m a drama queen.”

  He nods, kissing my neck and chest. “Maybe a little.”

  Henry moves down to my stomach and lifts my shirt, his other hand still on my shorts. He’s moving a little fast—even for Henry. “Hey!”

  “Calm down, I’m looking for something.”

  “Down my pants?”

  “Yep.” I wiggle away, but he uses his strength to gently hold me down. “Be still.” I do what he asks because it’s been days since he’s touched me and his hands feel so good.

  He hooks a finger in the elastic waist band of my panties and tugs them down, revealing my tattoo. My head is against his pillow and I feel his lips press against the sensitive skin. My want and desire for Henry override the depression of the last few days. Who knew one expertly placed kiss could elicit such emotion?

  I push my fingers into his hair and he looks up. “You’ve got to own it, babe.”

  “Own what?”

  “All of this. Who you are. You’re a hot mess and you do crazy stuff. Yeah, you may get a little high from the drama of it all and then have massive remorse, but it’s no big deal. You’ve got to own it and live by the words.”

  He sounds like he’s stoned but I know he’s not. He’s just Henry. Loving, creative, never regretful Henry. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You already are, just keep doing it.”

  I sigh and look at the ceiling. Part of the reason I kept him away was because I knew he’d talk me out of bed before I was ready, or worse, out of my pants. Sure enough, he’d managed to get me out of both. “What first?”

  “First, you make up with Tricia. She’s your best friend.”

  “Check.”

  “Next,” he reaches to the end of the bed, halfway falling off the edge. He emerges with a cardboard box. “You take this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  There’s nothing special about the box. Simple cardboard, with a gold seal on the top. I lift the lid and find a variety of notepads and journals. Packs of colored pens and pencils line the bottom. “What are these for?”

  “Your writing.”

  The depression rolls back over me like a wave. “Yeah, about that. I’m a little blocked lately.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “You need to get creative and I think maybe the way to move past all this stuff isn’t to really move past it. Dive into it. Feed off the pain and embarrassment.”

  “You want me to write about it?”

  “Why not? It’s socially relevant. It’s real. Use all that energy for good instead of tearing yourself down.”

  Tears form in my eyes and I fight them off, feeling stupid. “Since when did you get so perceptive?”

  “Since I decided not to lose you a second time.” Hell, with lines like that maybe Henry is the one that should be the writer. “Plus, I miss your writing. I kind of need a poem to replace Fuck You, Henry Fletcher.”

  “That’s a classic, though.”

  “Isn’t it?” he laughs.

  He pushes me back on the bed and wraps his arms around me. I turn so we’re facing, where I can see his eyes. “I’ve been working on something. Mostly in my head, want to hear it?”

  “Obviously.”

  “It’s similar, I just change the fuck you, to an ‘I love you’.”

  The crinkles around his eyes appear. “It has a nice ring to it.”

  “I love you, Henry Fletcher.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I use my heel to lower the kickstand on my bike. It’s dark, but the dim lighting from inside the bar makes it easy to see. I search through the window for my roommates. Tricia’s red hair flames like a beacon. They left me at home in front of the couch, notebook propped on my knees. I’ve taken Henry’s words to heart. I’m trying at least. He sparked a fever of writing and the words are coming out, finally, but I haven’t ventured further than his apartment.

  A crappy bar? I can do this.

  I can totally do this.

  My fingers falter on the door, but a couple people push in behind me, so I plunge into the light. Several people at the bar look up when I walk in and unless I’m completely paranoid, at least three recognize me. Ugh. I bolt to the table and Tricia’s eyebrow rises in surprise.

  “Move over,” I say to Josh, basically sitting on top of him.

  “Look who came out of her cave,” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. I glance nervously across the booth to see what sort of mood m
y best friend is in, but I stop short when I see an adorably handsome guy sitting next to her. He has his own half empty fishbowl margarita in front of him.

  “Hi,” I say. “I’m Zadie.”

  “This is Ryan, my boyfriend,” Tricia says. There’s an unmistakable glimmer of happiness in her eyes. You know, under the anger and daggers she’s throwing my way.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, adjusting his black-framed glasses. So. Adorable.

  “You too.”

  I’m trying to keep my expression normal but internally I’m freaking out. In an effort to get this apology moving, I reach out and pinch Josh in the leg. He reacts by stomping on my foot. “Mother fuuudge,” he groans. “What the hell, Zadie?”

  “Want to get me a drink?”

  He looks like he wants to pour his drink over my head but he finally gets that I want to talk to Tricia alone. “Come on, Ryan, let’s go get a refill and a new glass for Princess Zadie. She looks like she could use a drink.”

  We watch the boys walk off. “Wow, he’s super cute,” I say once they’re out of earshot. “So things are going well between you two?”

  “Very well,” she says stiffly.

  “Good, because he seems great and I’m happy for you. For real. I’m sorry I messed things up with us. I never wanted to do that. I knew you were seeing someone but you were really quiet about it so I didn’t push.” She snorts and shakes her head. “Fine and I was terribly distracted by my own life. I’m a jerk.”

  “A huge jerk.”

  “The biggest,” I agree. “I want you to know I heard what you said the other night. I’ve got to get past all this stuff. It’s stupid and it’s not the end of the world. It’s these stupid anxiety attacks, though. Ever since Elton, things have gotten out of control. I feel completely out of control.”

  “Then take control back.”

  “That’s what Henry says, too. He says I need to own it.”

  “He’s right. Remember when Henry ditched you for the prom and you asked Carter to go?”

  “Yes, obviously.”

  “Well, you took control of that situation. Things changed for you after that.”

  “But was it really better for me? People thought I was slutty and I lost years I could have spent with Henry. I don’t think that was the best solution.”