No Regrets (15 page)

“Tacky porn at best.”

She shakes her head and laughs. “You judge yourself too harshly. No one else sees it like that. We’re young and having fun.”

I’m doubtful but say, “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. You need to lighten up. Have a good time.” She turns away to gather our cups. “Here,” she presses one in my hand. “This one’s yours.”

I sniff it. T
here’s no alcohol in it. “Thanks.”

Shelly le
ads me through the crowd and introduces me to some of her friends. They’re nice and I start to loosen up. Tate comes around, handsy but following the rules. Everyone thinks we’re together. Shelly doesn’t ask questions, which is weird since she knows all about me and Henry, but maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she sees through the games. Maybe, like she said, she’s not into judging. I could be more like this, I think. I could have more fun.

“Zadie, come on!” a girl calls. Cassie? Camille? They want me to join them, and I do.
Just as I enter the photo booth with the girls, I catch Henry’s eye. He’s shiny and bright, like a star, and I fight the urge to go to him.

He smiles and tilts his head, my last image before I disappear behind the curtain.

*

The sun set a while ago but it’s not dark yet. We’ve got about an hour before the fireworks and Jackson’s rounding up girls for the wet T-shirt contest. Shelly grabs a shirt.

“Why not?” she says. “I’ve been prancing around
half naked all day.” She pulls the skin-tight shirt over her head. “You in?”

“Me?”
My skin feels electric and my mind fuzzy, which doesn’t seem right. I’ve stuck to my no drinking policy but everything has a glimmery sheen. A shiny Jackson holds out a shirt and I’m tempted. The encouraging grin on his face isn’t helping my confusion. Shelly looks pretty sexy and I wonder if her lips taste like candy.

“Zadie?”

Henry’s voice pulls me away. “Hi,” I say, snaking my arms around him. I move against him, wanting to dance to the music rushing through my ears. “No frowning,” I tell him. “I decided to make some friends. They’re nice.”

“I’m sure they are.” He’s frowning
, which seems ridiculous. I decide to remove it and get on my tip toes, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I hear a strange sound.

“What’s that noise?”

“What noise?”

“It sounded like a cat or a squirrel or something.”

“That was you,” he laughs.

“Me?” That’s embarrassing.

“Babe,” he says. “I need you to calm down.”

His statement makes me angry. And sad. And why isn’t he touching me anymore? Maybe I need to get his attention. Or better yet, someone else’s attention. I bounce on my toes and turn to Jackson. “Can I have a shirt?”

“Of course,” he grins.

I lift up my arms for him to place it on my head but find myself spinning around and facing Henry. His eyes are cold and hard and challenging Jackson. “Hands off, man,” he says, then gently pulls the shirt over my head. He smoothes my hair back over my ears and I feel a tremor run across my skin. “Zadie, I think we need to go.”

“But we promised Tate,” I say.

“I think he’ll be okay with it.”

“We made a deal and I’m sticking to it.”

He tugs on my shirt. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m having fun with my new friends,” I whine. Shelly grins and winks. “It’s not a big deal.”

Shelly tosses an arm over my shoulder. “Stop being a downer, Henry. Just go up top and enjoy the show.”

I nod a
nd he throws his hands up. “Don’t blame me for this,” he says and walks away.

“Whatever,” I say.

“Seriously,” Shelly agrees. “He’s just mad the other guys are going to be ogling and talking about you later.”

“Who cares what they say.” Again I’m watching her mouth and her lips are really pi
nk. “I bet they taste delicious.”

“What?”

“Your lips. They’re so pink. Do they taste like Starbursts? Jolly Ranchers?” I’m so curious.

Jackson calls our names and she links her fingers with mine. We file on to the make
-shift stage to loud cheers and whistles. I feel short, since many of the girls are wearing sandals or heels, but I’m barefoot and the deck feels rough under my feet. I search for Henry but can’t find him in the crowd. Tate, on the other hand, is perched on the life guard chair and shouts my name. I wave and blow him a kiss.

He pretends to c
atch it and everyone yells louder.

“Want to really make them crazy?” Shelly whispers in my ear. Her blonde hair looks like a
halo and I reach out to touch a long strand.

“Yes.”
At that moment I’d do anything she, or anyone else, asked me to.

She grabs me by my hips and pulls me close. Her lips press into mine and they’
re supple and yummy. Not cherry, but strawberry. The feeling is weird, no not weird, different? I’ve only kissed guys before, and she’s too soft and not quite right. Not for me. I hear a rushing in my ears and break away to look up. Cold water pours down my face and I shut my eyes.

“They love it,” she laughs through a mouthful of water. She grabs my boobs, covered in the drenched shirt
. My nipples harden at her touch and the cool chill from the water. I’m overwhelmed by the sensations and lift my arms over my head, reaching for the sky. Everything is too much but not enough. The water and roaring crowd. The flashing lights in the dark and the way my skin buzzes. Shelly brings me in for another kiss and I cave, sinking into everything.

Chapter Fourteen

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Henry’s concerned face. Tat
e’s angry fists. Shelly’s confused eyes. Fireworks set the backdrop and I watch them burst into the black sky from over Henry’s shoulder. Accusations fly, with the words ‘dose’ and ’how much’. Henry keeps checking my eyes. All I know is they’re ruining my night and I want them to stop. I want to dance and have sex. I want to strip off these clothes and pull down Henry’s pants, but the expression he wears stops me.

Decisions are made and during the grand finale of a gazillion fireworks
, we leave. Heavy bass echoes against the houses as we pass celebrations in the night. Henry’s got me in his arms, carrying me because my legs stopped working somewhere near the big Greek letters in the yard. It’s okay with me though, because I can see his face this way. His eyes are stormy. I run my hand down his jaw.

“You need to shave.” He ignores me
, but I don’t care. I’m focused on how everything feels sticky and wet. My skin prickles where it used to feel nice.

“My voice sounds weird,” I say, feeling my lips with my fingers. “Does yours?”

“No,” he finally says.

“It does. But it also sounds sexy.
”

We’ve reached the car and he deposits me in the front seat. “Don’t move,” he says. I wait, frozen in my seat, while he gets in the driver’s side. Henry straps me in with the seat belt and I kiss his neck and tug at his shirt, but he moves my hands away.

“You don’t want me?” I pout.

He rolls down the window as we driv
e away. His pretty face is marred by heavy creases on his forehead. The tiny lines near his eyes are nowhere to be found. The wind rushes in the car and whips my hair and the lights stream by. I forget about sex. “It feels like we’re flying,” I squeal, hanging my head out the window.

*

“Why can’t we?”

“You’re too wasted.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I didn’t drink anything.”

His hands find
my face in the dark. Once we got out of his flying car he lured me in the shower, where steamy water warmed my bones. My bikini hit the ground with a splat and I tried to get him in with me but he shook his head and kept his eyes lowered to the floor. He dressed me in one of his T-shirts, the black one with a space monkey on the front, and some flannel pants. Now we’re piled on blankets in his room and he’s been trying to calm me down for what feels like hours.

“You
didn’t,” he agrees. “But someone put something in your drink, remember?”

I think back. “Sort of.”

He strokes my hair and it’s the wrong thing, or the right one, and I move fast like a cat over his body. “We can’t.”

I press down, hard meeting soft
. “You want to.”

“I always want to, but no.”

“Stop trying to be a gentleman and give me what I want.” My lips find his mouth and he surrenders, at least briefly to a kiss.

“I’m not being a gentleman. I’m just trying really hard not to be an asshole.”

His words get past my lust and I press my nose to his. “You’re very sweet, Henry Fletcher.”

“I try
, Zadie Parker.”

“Am I too wasted to tell you that I love you?”

“Probably.” I feel his mouth turn into a smile. “Are you too wasted for me to tell you that I love you?”

Noses still connected
, I shake my head slowly back and forth. I whisper, “No.”

“I love you
, Zadie Parker. Every crazy, neurotic, adorable part of you. I always have. I’m pretty sure I always will.”

I roll to my side and wrap my arms around his waist. I love him
, too.

*

I recovered from the Ecstasy. Yes, X. I’d never done it before and the effects rolled over my body like
a freight train of euphoria. Going up was amazing. Coming down, horrific. Henry sat by my side, massaging my muscles and watching Buffy with me all night.

Once I gained some coherency, he told me that he and
Tate suspected Jackson had dosed me and Shelly earlier in the night.  While my boyfriend kept me and Shelly from making out on the stage in dripping wet T-shirts, Tate punched Jackson in the face. Jackson, bloody and adamant, denied doing anything. Tate didn’t believe him and dove at him, busting his nose and jaw. I wanted to be mad at Jackson, but the drug was still coursing through my veins, so none of it mattered to me right then. I did, bizarrely, worry about marring his beautiful face.

Now? I’m not feeling so generous.

“What should we do?” I ask Henry a few days later. We’re alone under the shelter during a break while Tate checks the chemicals across the pool. Lisa hasn’t been seen since the Fourth, but maybe she served her husband with divorce papers like Tate said. 

“Do you want to press charges?” Henry asks.
“You can. It happened on campus, so you can go to the campus police. I’m not defending Jackson, but this doesn’t seem like his kind of thing. He’s a bit of a frat douche, but in general, he’s an okay guy.”

“Is he still denying it?” I ask.

“Yeah and we don’t have any proof.”

“I don’t know about pressing charges. The whole thing was idiotic.
It’s not like I got hurt or anything.”

“Only because we were watching out for you.
And that’s not really the point, Pip.”

I never thought Henry Fletcher and Tate Christensen would be my guardian angels
, but they’d proved themselves several times over. Of course, Tate has a streak of the devil in him. Maybe he’s more like a fallen angel or something.

“
Tate reported it to the fraternity, but they’ll keep it low profile unless you report it also.”

“I’d rather forget it.”

He nods, his blue eyes holding mine. “I’m okay with that. Except for one part.”

“Only
one, because there are so many gems,” I groan.  “We’ve got the trashy bikini? The girl-on-girl kissing? The way I rubbed up on you like a cat in heat.”

“
Those were all fairly memorable, but no.”

I rack my brain trying to remember the details of that night. Nothing specific comes to mind. “I can’t remember.”

“You will,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and walking across the pool to get in his chair. He blows the whistle and all the kids hovering on the edge of the pool jump in.

Tate passes me on the way to office. “Any word from Lisa?”
I ask.

“Not really. I know she served him with papers and he was pretty upset. She took the kids and went to stay with her sister for a while.”

“Where does she live?”

“Texas.”

“Oh.”

He walks off, his shoulders a little more hunched than normal. He misses her, which is weird, but I look over at Henry and think about how falling in love never comes when you expect it.

Chapter
Fifteen

“Did you get your confirmation for class registration?” I ask Henry. We’ve just pulled into the parking lot at the indoor pool. Cindy called and asked me to come in after work.

“Not yet, I’ll check my email when we get back home.”

‘Home’ means his apartment, which we’ve somehow nested in over the last couple of weeks. The party on the Fourth bonded us. Unlike Tyler, Henry isn’t scared off by my public humiliation. If anything, I think he wants me more. So, his bed has become my bed. My laptop has become his and somewhere in between we share an assortment of socks, T-shirts and pillows. My hairbands litter his dresser top and he bought the kind of toothpaste I like and left it in the bathroom. The only downside is I haven’t seen Josh and Tricia much, but something has to give, I guess.

“You coming in?”

“Nah, I’ll wait. Probably a better idea since Cindy doesn’t know about us yet.” Although this is true, I have a feeling his desire to stay in the car has more to do with his new habit. We’d made an agreement to stop smoking and drinking after the party. His addictive personality picked up video games. I futilely try to write. His current game of choice is something about world building that has zombie pigs. I can’t even pretend to be interested.

I leave the air conditioned car and step into the late July heat. It’s sweltering
, and I’ve started to sweat by the time I reach the front door.  The lobby is air conditioned but I have to leave that for the stifling pool deck before I manage to cool down. I spot Cindy at her desk.

“Hey,” I say, entering her office.

“Zadie. Thanks for coming in.”

“Sure.” I sit in the chair across from her desk. “What’s going on
?”

She taps her pen loudly on the desk. “I don’t really know how to say this, but I received a complaint about your behavior at work.”

A feeling of unease settles in my stomach. “A complaint? From who?”

“It was anonymous. Someone called in yesterday and said that you were often inappropriate with the other guards.”

“Inappropriate how?”

“Overly friendly. They said it seemed like it was possible you were engaging in a relati
onship with both Tate and Henry. During pool hours.”

I shake my head and lie. Well, halfway.
“No. That’s not true.”

“They also suggested that you came to work on your days off and not only
were flirty with the guys but also with some of the male members.”

“What?” I’m floored.
Who would say such a thing? “Cindy, I promise you, none of that is true.”

“I thought it seemed ridiculous as well. On my visits to the pool everything has seemed fine and there have been no other complaints. I said as much to the caller.” She glances over at her computer and types on the keyboard. “Then I received these in an email.”

She turns the computer in my direction and I nearly jump at the image on the screen. I’m standing over the edge of the pool in a barely there bikini talking to Lisa’s husband. It’s from the day Josh dared me to hook up with Henry at work. If Cindy had been there she would know that nothing was going on between Eric and I, but the photo, out of context, looks damming. I’ve got my chest out and my hands on my hips. I’m bent over so I could hear him better at the time. I pretend not to see the post-changing room flush on my cheeks.

“Who sent this?”

“I don’t know. There’s no real name on the account,” she says. “I assume it’s from the same person that called. You have to admit, Zadie, you look a little inappropriate here.”

“He was the one talking to me and to be honest, he made me
feel a little uncomfortable.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I want to argue that he’d threatened me but that opens a whole other can of worms for me, Henry and Tate. “He just made me feel weird. Just the things he said, but I decided not to make a big deal about it.”

The truth is getting increasingly muddled, while at the same time everything became crystal clear.
I had started to form a suspicion that Eric was behind this phone call, and now the email also. He’d mentioned turning me into my boss that day. “But whatever he thinks was going on, it’s not true. I promise it was nothing. It was my day off and I told my roommate we could go hang out. That guy, Eric, was the one that approached me.”

Cindy closes the page and turns the computer away. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt
, but I need you to be careful. We don’t have a co-worker dating policy because so many of you guys are students and I’m not stupid. I do expect you to act professional. If anything is going on between any of you, make sure it’s not at work. And no dating members. There’s a zero tolerance on that.”

I feel a flash of guilty anger. Guilt because I’m not innocent in all of this. Anger because I’m the one getting called in here,
not the guys, even though this is Tate’s fault. I’m getting the heat because some jack-off has decided to mess with me. I bite back any arguments and nod. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it won’t happen again.”

She gives me a sympathetic grin. “I’m sure it will be fine. You’re a good worker, Zadie. It’s just my responsibility to bring this type of stuff up.”

“I know. Thanks for being understanding.”

I make it outside before I start crying. The hot air dries the tears before they even make it down my che
eks, which is good because I feel like an idiot. Keeping my head down, I hop in the passenger seat.

He stows his phone in the cup holder and looks over. “That was fast,” he says, and then does a double take. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

A surge of anxiety swells in my body and I can’t speak. I can’t do it. Henry’s eyes widen and he reaches out, taking my hand. “Hey, take a deep breath, all right?”

He brushes my hair over my ears and his eyes never leave my face.
I focus on catching my breath. “Okay,” I say, shakily.  “That bastard, Eric, sent Cindy a photo of me  talking to him at the pool. I’m standing there in my bikini looking like I’m hitting on him or something. He also sent an email saying I was being inappropriate with you and Tate at the pool.”

Henry blinks once and his jaw pulls tight. “
He sent it?”

“Well, it was sent anonymously. It would have to be him, right? He threatened he’d do this.”

“Probably.”

Henry pulls out of the parking lot and we head toward the apartment. “I hate this. I hate feeling on the defensive like this. I hated lying to Cindy, but for some reason I’m still covering for Tate.”

“You can stop that any time you want,” he says.

“I know. It’s just that we only have a couple weeks left anyway.”

We get out of the car. Henry waits for me at the sidewalk and engulfs me in a hug. “It’s bullshit, Zadie. Cindy was cool with it so you need to just let it drop. She’s not going to show that photo to anyone and like you said, we’ve got a couple of weeks left. It’s no big deal.”

I take another deep, settling breath. “You’re right.”

We head in the apartment. No one is home but the two of us. Henry stops me at his door and kisses me. “Wanna make out?”

I laugh, because yeah, duh. “Let me check for my class schedule confirmation email first, okay?”

“Will you check mine?”

“Yeah.”

Sitting at his desk, I check my email and find the confirmation letter. Then I open his email and scroll down. There aren’t many messages, but I do see the University’s email.  “All good,” I say. “You want to look at these other messages before I shut down?”

“Sure, yeah, bring it over here.”

I carry the laptop over and set it on the bed. Henry leans over and clicks a couple of buttons. “What’s this?” he mutters. I look up just in time to see a Tumblr account open. The title at the top says, “Tit for Tat.” A thin banner sat at the top of two perky, tan boobs in a black and gold marijuana leaf bikini.

“Oh God.”

He scrolls down, both of us silent other than the mouse and a photo of myself pops up. A photo I’ve never seen before but that was obviously taken at the pool this summer. I’m in my guard suit, hands on my hips.

“What the hell is that?”
I ask. Sweat coats my palms.

“I don’t know.”

He continues scrolling and there are more and more photos. Some with Henry. Others with Tate. The pictures are all from far away, like paparazzi shots. Each one has me in it but the theme is clear. I’m a whore. I get around. It’s not just Tate and Henry. Shots of me and Charlie hugging at Motorhead and one of Josh tugging playfully at my shorts outside the apartment. There’s even a couple of me talking to Jackson—including one from the Fourth of July that looks like we’re kissing.

One thing that stands out is that my face is clear and visible, while the guys have been blocked out with a black bar through the eyes and the word “victim” typed across. I know who it is and so does Henry.

“I wasn’t kissing him,” I say, my voice high and panicky. “He wiped a mosquito off my cheek.”

Henry squeezes my leg
. “I know, babe. I was there.”

His reassurance doesn’t help and the next image is a video. “Click it,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach.

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“Do it.”

I brace myself as the video plays. It’s from Elton, when I fell off the bar. I’ve seen it a dozen times but Henry hasn’t. I cover my face when I fall ass up in my dress. “When was this?” he asks.

“Elton.
Last year.”

The You
Tube history shows that there are more videos uploaded to this account and I grab the mouse and click on the next one. The familiar tune of “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry starts up and images of me and Shelly lip-locked appear.  We’re both in wet bikinis, strained provocatively across our chests. I barely remember the moment but I look like I’m enjoying it. In one photo Shelly palms both my breasts, fondling them and I’ve got a shit-eating grin on my face. “It looks like a fucking Girls Gone Wild video.”

Henry says nothing. God, he’s stunned silent.

I move the mouse and go back to the original email. “Oh shit,” I cry. “Whoever sent this sent it to dozens, no hundreds, of people. Maybe the entire Greek system.”

“Zadie,” Henry says. “It’s okay. We’ll report the account and get it shut down.”

I go back to the Tumblr and scroll down, grimacing at the images. The ones from Shelly’s Instagram account are there. Photos of me and Henry sneaking out of the changing room at the pool. Tate’s arm around my waist. Me kissing his cheek. Photo booth pictures, where my eyes are dilated the size of quarters. “Do you see these tags?”

“Turn it off, Pip.”

“ “Whore.” “Slut.” “Lesbian.” “Hooker.”  “Druggie.” Oh and the best one, “Zadie Parker is a Home Wrecker.” Why is this up? Why did they send this out? Who is it?” I hop off the bed and Henry snatches the computer. He’s typing, I assume reporting the account, but I know from experience it’s too late. My heart lodges in my throat and I can’t breathe. I can only hear my pulse in my ears and feel my hands sweating. I eye the door and Henry must finally notice my deranged state and jumps up, reaching for my arms.

“This is what happens,” I choke out. “This—these things—this is what happens to me when I…”

“When you what?” His hands force my chin up, trying to get me to make eye contact. I squirm away.

“When I
push outside my comfort zone. When I drink. When I smoke. I do stupid shit and people use it against me.”

“Zadie, that doesn’t even make sense.
Eric seems pretty psycho; this isn’t about you, it’s about him.”

“
No one knows that though!” I shout. “All they will see is some stupid, slutty girl.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get this offline. And make Eric pay. He’ll take responsibility.”

“Henry, I’m the one who’s responsible for this. Me. I did this.”

He reaches out but I jerk back. “
Zadie you aren’t even doing anything in those photos. You’re working and hanging out. You’re kissing me. I know that other shit means nothing. I was there. It means nothing.”

“It means something to me,” I say. “It means that once again I let down my guard and got exposed. It means that everyone thinks I’m a drunk and a druggie.
Which God, maybe I am.

“You’re not.”

“It means I’ve lost my anonymity. Again. And this one is going to follow me, Henry. I thought I’d cleaned up that last one too, that video from Elton, but there it is.” He makes another attempt to come near me but I don’t want anyone touching me right now. “I’m going upstairs.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I shake my head. “I need a little time alone, okay? It’s a lot of,” I search for the right word. “Exposure. It’s too much exposure and I need a minute to process it all.”

I grab my bag and frantically pick up a
couple of things I’ve strewn around the room. Henry blocks me at the door and forces me into his arms. “Remember when I told you only one thing mattered to me about that night?”