No Regrets (3 page)

“Where are you working?” Henry asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say but I’ve got a plan. I’m not up to a whole summer of Tate and his locker room booty calls. I’m going to wait and see where he signs up and pick elsewhere.

“I’ve got seniority and plan on taking an outdoor position,” Henry says. “It’s fun, you should work with us.”

Three years ago I would have died if Henry Fletcher asked me to work with him for the summer. The opportunity to see him day in and day out shirtless and t
an? Sold. But not now. Operation Payback involves me playing aloof and hard to get. When the paper comes by two of the three outdoor guard positions are already taken. Henry and Tate.

I take a deep breath an
d go against every instinct I possess and sign up for the indoor pool.

The ink isn’t even dry when
Shelly, a Tri-Delt (according to her T-shirt), snatches the paper from my hand and scribbles her name next to Tate’s. I’m sure they’ll be very happy working together. Or humping in the pump room. Whichever, I see it as a win-win situation. Maybe not for Henry, but he can just smoke a joint and chill out. See? Win-win-win.

I’m on my way to the car
when I hear Henry call my name.  “Zadie, wait up,” he says, running in my direction.

I clutch my keys in my hand and stop. “Yeah?”

“I saw you signed up for indoor pool. Why didn’t you sign up with me and Tate at the outside location?”

I cough and clear my throat. “U
m, why would you want to work with me?”

“We get along okay, right? I thought it would be cool
.” He fixes his pretty blue eyes on mine. I look away.

“Yeah
, I’m just…” I search for a lame lie. “I’m not really into the sun and being hot and stuff.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slump a little. “Too bad.”

“Shelly seems cool. You guys will make a good team.”

He scratches the back of his neck and wrinkl
es his nose. “Sure, she’s okay. Tate’s going to be all over her.”

“Sucks for you.” I
open my door, tossing my bag in the passenger seat. “I’ve already had the pleasure of walking in on him once. I’m not really keen on doing that again.”

“Is that why you won’t work? Because I won’t let that happen. Promise.”

“That’s one of the things,” I confess. I bite my lip and can’t help but notice Henry’s eyes glued to my mouth.  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Have fun, Henry.”

I hop in my car. He’s still in the parking lot, hands in his pockets when I pull out of the driveway.  Phase One? Complete.

Chapter
Three

“
Wait here,” I say to Josh and Tricia. I hop off my bike while they wait on theirs. Yes, bikes. It’s how we get around, especially when we’re going out.  We’ve made a stop on campus. Grades are out and the only one I’m worried about is Geography. It’s not the kind with maps. It’s some sort of devil class about rock formations and weather patterns. I’m hoping to scrape by with a D.

After findi
ng my name and ID I walk back to the grassy area where my roommates are waiting.

“So?” Tricia says from the backseat.

“I passed,” I say with a grin. “I got a C.  I’ll take it.”

“Woohoo!” Josh yells. He turns to me with a grin. “Let’s celebrate.”

We ride across town and camp out at a skanky bar called Motorhead. It’s situated on the edge of downtown, near the thrift stores and random storefront churches. The bar is dark and a little smelly but they don’t check IDs at the door, and Josh is 21 so he just buys us drinks at the bar.

“To passing sophomore year,” I say and we raise our glasses.

“And to Zadie coming home,” Josh adds. We clink again and take huge gulps of our drinks. It’s dollar fishbowl margarita night. These things are delicious. And deadly.

“I’m so glad you came home,” Tricia says. “I’m losing Josh to th
e gay world and going to clubs with him alone makes me a fag hag, and I’m just not ready for that title yet.”

“Aw guys.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “Me
, too. Elton sucked.”

“Why was it so bad?” Josh asks.

I hadn’t told them much about why I transferred. I used my major as most of my excuse. Elton didn’t have a creative writing program but the University did. But that wasn’t the only reason. I take another gulp. “It was too small. Everyone knew everything about everyone. Worse than high school.”

“Like how everyone knew Angela Markham and Charles Primrose
had sex in the equipment shed,” Josh asks.

Tricia shudders at the thought. “Yes, like that.”

“Like when Henry Fletcher made a clay pipe in art class and then got caught smoking in the back of the kiln room?” Josh continues.

I laugh at the memory. What a dork
. “Exactly. It was just a pressure cooker. I didn’t want to go Greek and all of my friends were and I just wasn’t happy.”

“But this is better?” Josh asks.

“So much. The other day, I sat at the student center with fifty other people and no one knew me or what I did the night before.” I place my hand over my heart. It’s calm.

“You didn’t do anything the night before,” he points out. “You’re in bed by nine every night.”

“Well no, but I could have. No one would have known otherwise. It’s awesome.”

We spend the rest of the night talking about the summer. Josh has to take a full load of classes since he messed around the year before.  Tricia has an internship at the courthouse. Her dad’s determined she follow in his footsteps so he pulled some strings. It i
sn’t a paid position but her parents agreed to fund her summer if she took it.

“When do you start?” I ask when Josh goes to get another round.

“Monday.”

“We’ll probably never see each other. I’ve got these stupid 5 AM shifts.”

“I hope  these early shifts work out for you,” Josh says placing the huge glasses in front of us. “I know you’re playing hard to get or whatever but that seems like it would be more enjoyable doing while watching two hot boys go around shirtless all summer.”

My mind drifts at the thought of Tate waist deep in the pool. He’s permanently tan and has the most inviting trail of hair on his
lower belly that darkens when he’s wet. There’s not an ounce of fat on him which I’m not sure how he pulls off partying all the time. Muscley isn’t my type, though. I’m more into the long and lean look. Wide shoulders at the top.

Like Henry.

I shake my head, trying to wipe the vision of him from my mind. “It’s not worth it. Being ignored all summer so Tate can sex it up with sorority girls and Jedi mind trick me into cleaning all the bathrooms? No, thank you. And I’m just not going to fall into that same pattern with Henry again.”

“Jedi m
ind whaat?” Tricia asks, slurring the last part of the sentence.

“Nothing,” I say.
“Plus, the plan is to see if Henry even notices me once the season starts. If not, it’s better for me to not have to be around him all the time.”

“Wouldn’t this be easier if you just had a fling with him or something?” he asks. Josh isn’t 100% behind Operation Payback.

“You know I’m not into causal sex. I’m not just going to do some hot stoner because I have an unrequited crush on him.”

“Girl, you don’t ’do’ anyone. Maybe you shouldn’t be so picky,” he says, leaning over the table, yell-whispering. We’re walking home tonight for sure.

“W
hy do I have to ’do’ anyone? Can’t I be happy alone?”

“No,” th
ey say in unison and crack up. The jukebox changes to a heavy metal song from the 80’s.

“
I declare we meet every dollar margarita night to drink to the summer and catch up.” This is ridiculous since we live together, but my head swims from tequila. I lean over to give my friends a drunken hug.

“Deal!” Tricia shouts in my ear. 

*

The only people at the pool at 5 AM are the lap swimmers. The same people day in and day out come to the pool and swim back and forth. There’s the cricket lady, who moves her arms in a strange way that makes me think of cricket legs. I’ve discovered she comes to the pool three times a day. I don’t even know what that’s about. Then there’s the old man and woman who swim excruciatingly slow. I have no idea how they swim so slowly. The best (worst) part is how at the end of each lap the woman spits across the pool deck. Yes, spits.

Disgusting.

It’s quiet enough, and as long as it’s not too busy, we’re allowed to read. Anything not to fall asleep.

It’s week two of summer break and I’m t
hirty minutes into my work day. I hate this job. Not as much as the ice cream parlor but the inside pool is sort of miserable. Okay, it’s totally miserable. I’m contemplating all this when I see someone moving around the office and I get up to check it out. I’m surprised to find Henry rummaging through the desk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s never come in this early before.
The outdoor pool opens at ten. His skin has already turned a warm, cinnamon brown.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

I glance out at the pool. Mrs. Old Lady just hocked another loogie onto the pool deck, otherwise things are calm. “What for?”

“Cindy needs two people to work at the summer camp
on Friday afternoon at the camp for their big end of the week party. I told her I’d do one of them. You interested?”

“This Friday?”

“Yeah, it’s at Dalton Lake, which is like an hour drive from here. We can ride together if you want.”

“I’m supposed to work a morning shift that day. I’m not sure I can handle both,” I admit. I’m also looking for a way out because I don’t know if I can pull off an hour long drive in a car with Henry Fletcher without freaking out.

“Cindy will cover for you. I already asked. Tate and Shelly are taking the outdoor pool hours.”

I raise an eyebrow at that one. They’ll probably spend every adult swim sexing it up in the staff room, but whatever. Their issue
, not mine. I finally nod and say, “Okay, Friday. What time?”

The corners of his mouth tug into a grin. “I’ll meet you at my car around
ten?”

“Sounds good,” I say
, watching him leave with one hand already on my phone. He’s barely out the doors when I send a text to Tricia.

Operation Payback, Phase Two Begins Now
.
Help!!

*

Friday morning I roll over and hear a crinkle under my face. I sit up and reach for the paper. It’s an explicit To-Do list from Tricia for the day
.
She’s titled it:
Operation Payback or, How to Woo Henry Fletcher One Step at a Time.

We spent the night before having a marathon of all the “Nice Girls Turned Slutty to Get the Guy who Really Just Wanted the Nice Girl All Along” movies from the past twenty years. Starting with
Just One of the Guys
and
Sixteen Candles
before ending with
Easy A
, we figured the best way to get back at Henry was to accentuate the positive. In this case it was my boobs, my skinny legs, and my hair.

Oh and keeping me from saying something hostile
that would blow this whole thing.

“These movies are sort of ridiculous but they focus on one thing. Getting the guy
’s attention. If you can do that, you’re in. It’s almost like an exact science. Now, I wouldn’t suggest it if Henry hadn’t already expressed some interest in you, but he has. We just need to get him to stop wavering and commit,” Tricia said after the last movie. Emma Stone rocks. I wish I had Olive’s balls.

“Henry hasn’t ever committed to anyone,”
I replied warily. “He was notoriously single in high school.”

“
Because he’s chicken. You need to drive him crazy,” Tricia continues. “Make him want you so bad that he has no problem admitting it.”

I pack my bag for the day, guard suit, shorts and a towel. I wear something different. A tight yellow tank
with buttons down the front. The list says to unbutton three. I manage two. Short shorts and flip flops. There’s a notation that says, “Change in the car if you have to. Sexy.”

Gulp.

Henry’s at the car when I come down, freshly showered and smelling like heaven. My senses are assaulted by his deliciousness when the car doors close and I fight the urge to lean over and inhale.

Focus
, I tell myself, studying the interior of the car in an attempt to avoid a complete panic attack. Paper wrist bands around the gear shift. Some with fraternity letters and party names. Others from bars in town. A broken pair of sunglasses hangs from the rearview mirror and a beaded necklace that looks familiar.

I fight the s
elf-doubt creeping over me and run my finger down the beads. I swallow back my nerves and ask, “Do you remember that day we all skipped school and went to Lullwater Park?”

His eyes are on the road but I see the hint of recognition on his face. “
Sure. With Brian and Peter?”

“Yeah,
Tricia was there and we smoked up under the magnolia trees and played Frisbee all afternoon.”

“Peter made us have races rolling sideways down the big hill,” he laughs, glancing
my way. “That was a good afternoon.”

I bite my tongue and just nod, because to me it had been a glorious afternoon. Bright and sunny. The sun warmed our skin even though it wasn’t summer yet. Brian asked Tricia to prom and Henry gave me a piggy-back ride. We were stone
d and silly. More than once Henry looked at me like I meant something to him. I had such hopes.

We avoid the past the rest of the drive, talking more about classes and ma
jors. The standard things college students talk about. The car ride gives me an opportunity to bolster my courage. We’re on even ground. He either doesn’t remember how things were between us or is willing to forget it. Either way, I plan on using it against him.

*

Six hours later I stand by the car, sunburned and exhausted. Lifeguarding a pool packed with kids is way different than supervising lap swimmers. Less spitting, more horse play. For the first time I got to use my whistle. I have to admit it carries a level of power and exhilaration I never expected.

Another bonus was the
non-stop Henry ogling. Damn he’s hot. Really hot. I tried to act aloof while he peeled off his shirt and covered himself with sunscreen but I failed. Epically.

On the flip side
, I know he peeked when I masterfully put on my bathing suit in the backseat of the car, expertly flashing just enough skin to raise his interest. Sucker.

“You ready?” Henry asks, throwing his stuff into the back of the car.

I toss my bag in behind his and sit in the passenger seat. He cranks the air conditioning and the radio, blasting our senses with something other than heat and sweat. I lean back in my seat and say, “Okay, I admit it. I thought working the indoor pool was tiring. That was killer.”

“The indoor pool is just boring. At least this way the day goes by faster.” He reaches over and presses his finger against my nose. “You got a lot of sun.”

“Too much,” I tell him, looking down at my chest. It’s turning a purplish red.

“I told you to wear more sunscreen.”

He’d chided me more than once for not applying enough. “I was tired of being inside so much I’d wanted a tan. Looks like I got fried instead.”

Henry doesn’t reply but I see him twisting his hands on the steering wheel.
I keep my eyes on the window because his fidgeting makes me nervous. The car ride home is mostly silent, other than the radio. We’re both beat and I catch myself dozing off more than once. I feel the car slow when we get off the highway and force myself awake. When we’re near the apartment Henry surprises me by saying, “I want you to change your mind about this summer.”