No Regrets (6 page)

“I’m getting a soda,” I say in response. “Want one?”

“Sure.”

I leave the love birds, hopping out of my chair to go get it. I pass Tate waist-deep in the pool scrubbing tiles, (I’d give him credit for doing some actual work but I know he lost a bet with Henry for the job) and he winks as I pass by. I force myself not to tug and pull at the suit. That is not sexy at all.

We have a refrigerator in the office and I lean in to get a Coke off the bottom shelf. The cool air feels nice against my hot skin and I stand there for a minute.

“Wasting energy, huh?”

I spin quickly, holding the can to my chest and find Henry standing in the door. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask.

“Long enough,” he replies with a smirk.

“Want one?” He nods and I hand him mine before leaning in for another.

“So Tate came over last night?”

I open the
can with a loud click and hiss and sway from hip to hip. “He wanted to watch Buffy.”

“He did?”
His eyes watch my hips like a metronome. “Interesting.”

“I know, I thought it was weird too, but whatever.”

“Hmm,” he says, flashing his eyes at me. Or on me. His eyes are all over me and this bikini that suddenly seems too small and too tight.

“I guess I’ll go back out with Josh and Davey, not that they’ve noticed I’ve gone or anything.”

“Okay,” he says, not moving out of the doorway. I edge past him, bumping my hip into his lower stomach. His very toned lower stomach, covered in the finest hair that I crave to touch. I keep my hands to myself and once I’m out of the hot spot, I swear I feel the heat of his hand on my lower back.

For a minute I can’t decide who’s seducing who.

Back at my seat I tune out Josh and Davey and keep one sun-glassed eye on Tate as he makes his way around the pool. His back muscles tense with every movement, only stopping occasionally to mess with one of the kids.  The kids love the lifeguards, all of us, but mostly Henry and Tate. These particular children belong to Mrs. Robinson. They beg and splash, trying to get Tate to horse around. This makes an excellent opportunity to ogle, watching both guys as they use all their strength wrestling with the kids.

“Hey Pip,” I hear over my day dream of Henry and Tate water wrestling one another.

“Hey.”

“Come talk to me.”

“Why would I do that?” I laugh.

He drapes his arms over the side of the pool and smiles. “Come on, I’m bored and doing this so you don’t have to tomorrow. Come entertain me.”

I look over at Josh who hasn’t paid me any attention in the last fifteen minutes and shake my head.  I walk over to the edge of the pool and sit, dangling my feet into the cool water.

“This is how you chose to spend your day off?” His eyes flick toward my chest.

“Not really but these two seemed to have ulterior motives.”

“I watched the rest of season one,” he says, dipping his brush back into the water and resuming his cleaning. He’s cleaning the area to the left of where I’m sitting, slowly making his way in my direction.

“And?”

He smiles. “Buffy kicks ass. You’re right.”

“Obviously.”

The water sloshes against my legs as he moves closer. I look up and catch Henry staring in our direction. Or at least I think he is. It’s hard to tell behind his sunglasses. I smile but he turns away before seeing me.

Tate approaches my legs, picking them up and to clean the tile beneath them. “Hey!” I shout, trying to keep my balance, but laughing anyway. He drops my legs but grabs my ankles under water and says, “So, what do you think? Want to go to the superhero bash with me?”

“What?”

“The party at my frat? Want to come? It’s next weekend. I’m trying to decide between Thor again or Captain America.”

“You want me to go with you?” Like a date, I want to ask
, but don’t. No way. Never.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun to bring a girl who knows all the characters.”

“I’m not that big of a nerd,” I laugh. He leans in and his chest is deliriously close and I clasp my fingers around the edge of the pool deck so I don’t just reach out and touch him.

“How about it?” His eyes struggle between my chest and my face and for once I just don’t care. I think I may be turning him on and it’s exhilarating.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, warily. “I’m not big on crowds.”

“It’s summer. It’s like half the normal-sized party.” His hands are still wrapped around my ankles but his fingers feel soft under the water and what the hell is going on here? Is he really flirting with me? I glance up at Henry but all I can see is the muscle in his jaw working overtime. “Ju
st come, it will be fun. Everyone goes—Henry will be there.”

“He will?” I look across the pool.

“Yo, H! You’re going to the Superhero bash, right?” Henry gives Tate a quick nod and a double thumbs up.

Tate flashes his mega-watt smile and my heart flips erratically.
Part out of anticipating of a night out with Henry, if he’s aware of it or not, and partially because I’m on the edge of an anxiety attack, knowing historically what happens when I decide to go out and have a good time. I close my eyes and say, “Yes.”

*

“I can’t believe you said yes to this,” Tricia says. We’re in the bathroom. I’m sitting on the top of the toilet, both eyes shut, while she works on my makeup.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you’re wearing this outfit.”

I open one eye. “Is it too much? Too tight? Too slutty?”

She closes my lid with her finger and swipes across it with a brush. “Nope. You look stunning. It’s perfect.”

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ll be fine. I wish I could go. I can’t believe I have to go to another political function. I think my dad was more concerned with ruining my social life than getting me job experience,” she says. “You can look now.”

I open my eyes and stand up. I went with the Avengers theme, dressing as Black Widow. She’s not super slutty which is good but she wears a skin-tight outfit that
has my boobs squeezed together so tight they may actually tear the fabric. Tricia managed to curl my reddish-brown hair into wavy ringlets.

“My ass looks huge,” I say, twisting to look in the mirror.

“No it doesn’t, and have you seen Scarlett Johansson’s butt? It’s curvalicious. You’re fine.”

In my room I pull on my knee
-high black boots. This outfit’s going to be hot as hell tonight but Tricia’s right. I look pretty good. The only problem is my nerves, which run ice cold in my veins. Checking my clock, I see that I have thirty minutes before Tate will arrive. I decide to go outside for some fresh air first.

“Good luck,” Tricia s
ays. “I suspect Henry will be jealous as heck he didn’t ask you out first.”  I close the door and step outside. The night air is humid and not much of a relief but I couldn’t sit around my apartment any longer. I make my way downstairs and realize my suit is sticking to my skin and I can’t stay out here.

I can’t go anywhere. What am I doing, dressing up like superhero Barbie? Going to a party with a crowd of people I don’t know. The
anonymity doesn’t bother me. It’s the minute they figure out who I am. That I don’t belong. What do I do then?

“
Zadie?”

I glance up and realize I’m standing in front of Henry’s apartment door on the first floor.
He has on a white T-shirt and baggy plaid shorts. He’s barefoot and has a plastic grocery bag in his hand. “Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I give him a weak smile.

“You look…” he says, trailing off. His face is riddled with confusion—as he should be—I’m dressed like Black Widow and it’s not Halloween.

“Lame, I know.” I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hide myself but all it does is squish my boobs even bigger.

“No, you look great.” He
eyes me head to toe and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Really great.”

We stare at one another for a minute because I feel stupid and he’s looking at me with the dumbest expression.  Definitely not helping my nerves settle.

“What are you doing out here?” he finally asks.

I take a deep breath and exhale. I admit, “Freaking out.”

“Why?”

“Because I agreed to go to this stupid fraternity party with Tate and I’m wearing this outfit and, well,” I meet his eyes with my own. “I’m nervous about all the people and stuff. It’s the kind of t
hing that triggers my anxiety. Hey!” I notice he’s not dressed up. “You said you were going!”

“
Yeah, we’re going to later, when Charlie gets off work. So you’re going with Tate?” he asks, quietly.

“Yeah, he asked me the other day.
He swore to that he would be nice and not leave me stranded in a sea of sorority girls. I don’t trust him. Hence the nerves.”

Henry bite
s his lip but says nothing. A light bulb goes off in my head and I realize what’s going on. Why he’s being so strange. “Look, I know I told you I’m not falling for his puppy dog thing. I’m not. I just—I want to break out of my shell a little and Tate and this party are about as far out of my shell as I’m ever going to get. I’m nervous as hell but I promise you this has nothing to do with me liking him or the risk of you finding us making out in the utility room at work, okay?”

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and eyes me warily. Finally he says, “You’re that nervous?”

“Petrified.”

Henry lifts an eyebrow and says, “I think I can help.”

“Really? How?” I ask, but he’s already opened his apartment door and stepped inside.

“Follow me.”

On unsteady heels, I enter the apartment after him.

*

I watch Henry as he packs the small clay bowl. This is his solution. Getting high. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not surprised. If anything, I’m grateful.

“Why do
n’t you live with Tate? You two have been friends forever.”

“He
lives in the fraternity house,” he says. His pink tongue darts out and licks his finger.

“And you didn’t join?”

“Uh, yeah I joined, but things didn’t work out so well.”

“What do you mean?”

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not really great with rules and stuff. Or being told what to do.” He offers me the pipe end. “Ladies first.”

I shake my head. “No, you.”

He shrugs like any stoner happy to get first the first shot. Henry licks his lips and thumbs the lighter. The bright orange flame bursts from the tip. He inhales deep, like a pro.  When he’s finished, he hands me the lighter and bowl.

I’m less adept and fumble with the lighter. Henry exhales, coating the room in a haze of smoke and takes the lighter from me. “Here,” he says.

The paper is damp between my lips and I inhale, the smoke burning my throat. I hold it in as long as possible, which isn’t long at all. Smoke and air burst from my lungs in a loud cough and my eyes burn. “Sorry,” I bark between gasps of air.

He doesn’t reply but takes the pipe back and hits it again. Back and forth we g
o, my lungs slowly acclimating to the stinging heat. Henry and I sit across from one another and I hazily look around the room. Typical college furniture fills the room and posters line the walls. A huge canvas hangs over Henry’s head. It has a graphic, comic-y feel to it. I see the initials H. F. in the bottom corner.

Henry glances upward and says, “I painted that for class. It’s lopsided though and drives me crazy.”

Tilting my head, I try to figure out what he means, but everything seems sort of wavy right now.  I look down and see Henry lean
back on a black futon, his legs stretched under the coffee table. He has small fuzzy hair on his knees that I want to touch.

I’m sitting in a strange gold corduroy chair. I run my thumb down
the fabric. We’re oddly matched and I start to giggle looking at my skin tight pants.

Henry smiles lazily.
“What?”

“This.” I point to my outfit. “You’re dressed all normal and I’m in this ridiculous get up.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look hot.”

Despite the num
bness of the weed, I feel my cheeks heat. My tongue is loose and my body feels out of my control. I cross my legs slowly revealing the heeled boots. “Superhero fetish?”

His eyes travel
from the boots to my boobs up to my eyes. “Something like that.”

Henry’s an e
nigma. Funny and nice. Sort of a hipster and obviously a bit of rebel, but more than once we’ve had this energy pulse through us that I can’t put my finger on. Attraction? Friends? Maybe Josh is right and I’m just chicken.

“Do you still write?” he asks.

“I try. But I’ve been a little blocked lately.” Lately is an understatement. Ever since the crap hit the fan at Elton I’ve floundered.