Perfect Regret

Page 15

I drew myself up and squared my shoulders. “Sex does not equal ownership, Maysie. Garrett is not a guy I want in my life. To say we are different is a massive understatement. And yes, it grosses me out that he jumped from me to her, but I can’t stop him. He’s free to do whatever and whomever he wants,” I said harshly.
“Riley,” Maysie started but closed her mouth. Her eyes grew cold as she looked over my shoulder. I felt his presence before he said a word. My body had honed into him in over a year of intimate familiarity.
“Hey girls,” Damien piped up, standing beside us. I smiled at my ex-boyfriend in a manner devoid of my former bitterness. When had I forgiven the heartache? When had he become nothing more than a memory? At some point, I had let him go and it was both freeing and startling.
Because I knew there was only one reason Damien Green had lost his hold on my heart.
“Hey,” I said back. I turned back to my roommate who seemed confused by my civil greeting to the boy I had vowed to never speak to again. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I said. Maysie nodded, looking unhappy and I could understand why.
“Thank you for looking out for me,” I told her and then I hugged her. Maysie blinked in surprise when I released her, astounded by my display of affection.
“Always, Ri,” she said sincerely. I walked toward my class feeling just a little bit better.
“Glad to see that smile again,” Damien said as we headed in the same direction. I gave him a sideways look.
“Don’t, Damien. Seriously, it’s not necessary,” I said. Damien chuckled, as if he tickled by my coldness.
“But I think it is necessary. Because one day, Riley, you’ll understand how sorry I am for screwing everything up. You and me, we make sense. We work. I didn’t get that until it was too late. And I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make you see I’m genuine,” Damien grabbed my hand to stop me.
“And Jaz didn’t make sense, I guess,” I snipped, aware that I sounded like the jealous ex that I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t jealous of whatever he had done with Jaz. I just thought the whole thing a miserable waste of emotional energy.
Damien tensed up. “She was a mistake. I just thought…” he cleared his throat and tried again. “I thought she pretty, okay. I wanted to see if what I felt for her would be more than what I felt for you. Because you and I had gotten to that point where we were just coasting. It was too comfortable. Too routine. Weren’t you bored, Riley?” he asked me and I wanted to yell that no I hadn’t been bored. But I knew that would be a lie.
Because he had been right to dump me. We were boring together. Who wants a relationship based on the fact that we both liked to recycle our plastics? At one time that might have been enough, but I was starting to think that wasn’t an option anymore.
When I didn’t say anything, Damien rushed on. “But Jaz wasn’t you, Riley. And I knew then that I was stupid. Because comfortable isn’t a bad thing. “
Wow, someone give this guy the medal for the most un-romantic sentiment ever!
Even though he meant for his words to be sweet they just made me depressed. Not once did he say that I was beautiful and he couldn’t stay away from me. No, Damien’s idea of romance was to let me know that boring was good enough.
Well it wasn’t for me.
“I have to go,” I said, walking around him.
“I have the hangover from hell! Shoot me now!” Gracie groaned, sinking into the seat beside me. She rubbed her temples and cringed at the noise level in the commons. I took a bite of my hamburger, ketchup squeezing out from the sides and plopping down on my plate. Gracie’s face went a little green.
“God, your food is going to make me puke,” she whined as I wiped my face. I shrugged, not feeling remotely sympathetic.
“Why do you keep drinking yourself into this state? You’d think you would have learned around twenty hangovers ago,” I pointed out, purposefully taking a huge bite of my burger and chewing loudly.
“You’re sadistic, Riley. You know that?” Gracie complained, dropping her head to the table. Maysie wasn’t out of class yet so it was just me and my fellow Garrett humper. This had the makings of fabulous written all over it.
“Rough night?” I asked. Okay, I was going to dig. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know what exactly was going on with her and Garrett. It was driving me crazy not knowing.
“You have no idea,” she whispered. I took pity on her and fished out two ibuprophen from my bag and handed them to her with my bottle of water.
“Take these and call me in the morning, “ I directed, nudging her arm with the bottle. Gracie uncapped the water and drank it all in one gulp. She gave me a weak smile in thanks.
“Seriously though, Gracie, I think it might be time to reevaluate your social life,” I said, putting the empty bottle on my tray. Gracie nodded in agreement.
“I think you might be right. Because I never want to drink again,” she swore and I looked at her knowingly. Because come tonight, her earlier convictions would go right out the window. My good buddy was one step away from a Lindsey Lohan level catastrophe. I had always given Maysie shit for the way she partied but she had nothing on Gracie Cook.
And Gracie was a small girl. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She was wreaking havoc on her poor body. She’d have liver failure by the time she was thirty at this rate.
“Enough is enough, girl. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep it up. We’re meant to have more blood than alcohol in our system. You get that, right?” I asked caustically.
Gracie frowned. “Ha, ha. Yes, Miss Smarty-pants, I’m aware. I’m just having fun,” she said defensively.
I frowned back. “Having fun doesn’t involve frequent bouts of vomiting,” I replied sagely.
Gracie didn’t respond and instead put her head back on the table. Maybe now wasn’t the time to niggle her for details about her night with Garrett.
Whatever.
“I hear you had an overnight guest last night,” I said carefully. Gracie didn’t lift her head but her brow furrowed as though confused. And then her forehead smoothed and she smiled, looking a bit more alive.
“Oh, you mean the guitar god himself. Yeah, he helped me get home,” she said dreamily and then she looked sheepish. “He slept on my floor because he said he was afraid I’d stop breathing or something,” she admitted and I felt myself practically melt in relief.
“So no booty call?” I asked, needed the clarification.
Gracie groaned again. “No, I was too busy being a drunken idiot. I finally get the guy back to my place and I pass out. He’ll never look at me twice again!” she grumbled. I had to hide the satisfied smile that threatened to spread across my face.
“That’s okay, I’m sure there will be plenty more where he came from,” I said.
Gracie grimaced. “True, but there’s something different about Garrett, don’t you think? I mean who cares if he’s a townie who only plays music for a living? Look at him! Those abs make you forget that he’s sort of a loser.”
I felt suddenly and irrationally angry.
“That loser just spent the entire night making sure you didn’t Jimi Hendrix. So maybe you should be more appreciative,” I told her harshly.
Gracie frowned at me, obviously trying to figure out why I had put on the Garrett cheerleading uniform. I wish I had just bitten my tongue and kept quiet.
“There be my bitches!” Maysie said, sitting down in one of the free chairs. She looked over at Gracie whose face was now burrowed in her arms. “What’s up with her?” she asked me.
“What do you think? Possible alcohol poisoning with a side of irresponsible choices,” I laughed. Maysie laughed too, though I could tell she was just as concerned as I was about Gracie. The time was quickly approaching when laughing about it wouldn’t be an option. Something more serious would have to be done.
Maysie and I ate in silence and I was pretty sure Gracie had fallen asleep. If she started snoring I was going to have to smack her. “Do you have to work tonight?” Maysie asked me as we finished up. She reached over and shook Gracie’s shoulder.
Our friend jolted awake, her eyes bleary. “Time to head to class, Gracie,” Maysie said kindly. Gracie wiped her mouth and rubbed her eyes.
“I’m gonna head home. I can’t do class right now. See you later,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading out to the quad.
“Something’s got to be done, Mays. I’m actually worried about her,” I said, following Maysie to dump our trash. Maysie nodded.
“Yeah, Vivian and I have been talking about this a lot actually. Vivian said she’s gonna call Gracie’s older sister about it,” she admitted. I was glad to hear that something was being done. But I was also self-aware enough to realize that news expunged my feelings of responsibility about the situation. And that was extremely selfish.
Outside, the October air was cool but the sun was shining brightly. Midterms were just around the corner. I figured I’d ace them like I always did. Because doing well in school was one thing I still had going for me.
“So anyway, you didn’t answer me. Are you working tonight?” Maysie asked, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
“Uh yeah, I go in at five. I thought you quit,” I scolded, glaring at the offending object dangling between her fingers. Maysie rolled her eyes.
“You’re as bad as Jordan,” she grumped but dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out.
“Just trying to do my part in reducing your risk for lung cancer. You’ll thank me when you don’t have to drag an oxygen tank around,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah. Me and my non-existent iron lung will be eternally in your debt,” she said with just a small bit of sarcasm.
“So why the interest in my work schedule?” I asked her, pulling out my phone to check the time. I had twenty minutes until senior symposium.
“Oh, because Generation Rejects are playing at Barton’s tonight. Just wondered if you’d be around for it,” she explained, her eyes saying more than her words. She was worried about my being in the same room as Garrett. Sheesh, when had my life become an episode of The Young and The Restless?
I was fully capable of being in the same room as the guy I almost had a romantic interlude with before being publically dissed. The same guy who had most likely seen the dimple in my butt cheek. What was troublesome about that?
“I’ll be there. At least I know it’ll be busy and I can make some decent tips. It’s been dead lately,” I said, avoiding the discussion I knew she wanted to have. Clearly our roundtable conversation about this very thing that morning hadn’t been enough for her. She needed to beat it like a dead horse.
“Oh, well that’s good,” she said and then surprisingly didn’t say anything else.
“Yeah, it is. Gotta go,” I said, making a hasty retreat. My afternoon was now planned out. First class then home to prepare for a night showing Mr. Thinks He’s Hot Shit On The Guitar that I really didn’t give a crap about him.
The problem was I was beginning to forget who I was supposed to be convincing. Him or myself.
“And this one is dedicated to all of the bitches who love us. You know who you are!” Cole screamed into the mic, pointing at the girls clamoring at his feet for a moment of his attention. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.
“He really is a cocky bastard, isn’t he?” I asked Vivian, who was sipping on her rum and Coke at the bar, watching her on again, off again bed buddy thrust his pelvis seductively. At least I think it was meant to be seductive. Personally I thought he looked as though he had a bad case of crabs.
Vivian shrugged a shoulder and swirled the tiny straw around in the ice. She seemed completely unconcerned by the way the man who frequently screwed her brains out make a spectacle of rounding up the next warm body.
But I knew the whole thing bugged her. Vivian was a strong, take no bullshit kind of woman. Which is why this whole situation between her and Cole was extremely perplexing. But I wasn’t one to dwell too long on someone else’s problems. Not when two of mine were in the same room tonight and that made me all sorts of twitchy.
Damien had officially blown off all of Jaz’s advances. I knew this because every time she had tried to approach him this evening, she had been politely but coldly rebuffed. The backstabbing skank face had looked ready to bust a gasket. And yes, I loved it. If I could have bought tickets and a tub of popcorn, I’d have been front and center for Jaz’s abject humiliation.
But while Damien had jumped off the rebound train, he was clearly trying to reboard the Riley wagon. He was sniffing so hard around my skirt that I wondered whether I’d need to have him surgically removed. And this did nothing for any semblance of a good mood.
Because with every one of my ex’s overtures, I felt the cold, dispassionately watchful eyes of the lead guitarist of Generation Rejects. He bore holes in my back. While I worked, he played his gig and there was a gritty edge to his performance tonight.
I was no music connoisseur but even I could hear the frenetic energy in the way he played tonight. He had already broken two strings during the set by his angry ferocity. And I knew the reason for his super happy good mood lay entirely on my I-Swear-I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn shoulders.
“I married the ketchups for you, Ri,” Damien said with a hesitant smile, coming into my section to hand me several bottles of condiments to put on the tables. When we were dating we routinely helped each other finish up our closing tasks. It was as familiar as apple pie. But now, there was something desperate about it. And I really wish he’d back off. He wasn’t helping the fog in my head at all. In fact, Damien Green was stirring it into a thick pea soup.