No Regrets (7 page)

“I always liked your stuff in the school paper.”

“My emo, high school bullshit? I was so full of pretention.”

“Nah, it was good.
I liked the short stories the best. My favorite one was about the dog. You know that could talk?”

“Really? That was my favorite one, too.” I say. “Other than
‘Fuck You, Henry Fletcher’, of course.”

“Of course.”

My phone buzzes on the couch next to me and
I pick it up. Tate’s on his way. “I should go out front. Tate should be here in a minute.”

Henry nods and we both stand. I’m clumsy on my feet and he grabs my arm
, steadying me. We’re standing close and I can feel the heat of his skin through my tight shirt.  “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, definitely calmer,” I stare at his chin,
at the heavy stubble, afraid to look in his eyes. His fingers linger on my elbow but then he takes my phone and starts pressing buttons. “What are you doing?”

“I added my number. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re coming, right?” I ask.

“Probably,” is the most he’ll answer.
“Be careful, okay?”

I’m at the door and can see Tate getting out of his car. I don’t want him to come up here. “I will.” I pause and give Henry a hug.
“I really appreciate it. Maybe now I won’t make an ass out of myself.”

He laughs and lets me go, shutting the door behind me. The summer air hits my skin and I’m immediately sweating.  Tate sees me on th
e steps and whistles. I whistle back because he’s dressed in some sort of armor, his biceps bulging and his abs peeking out under a breast plate. Holy cow.

“Ready?” he asks, offering me his hand.

I stifle a giggle at the whole scene, mostly because I’m a little baked. “Yep, let’s go kick some ass.”

Chapter
Six

I’ve been to fraternity parties before.
The last one at Elton turned into a life-changing disaster. That’s my trend. Turning normal events into a crisis-worthy disaster. The solution? Running like hell.

Elton was
such a small school that everyone was invited. We drank crappy beer and suspicious red punch, and once my roommates and I consumed way too many mushrooms in some guy’s bedroom before puking them up under a giant magnolia tree on campus.  It was still cliquey but again, everyone mingled. Everyone knew everyone. This party is different. The Kappa Sigs have a huge house near the edge of campus. Brick with huge white columns. It looks like a plantation home from the outside. Huge Greek letters sit in the yard announcing the fraternity’s affiliation and people mill around everywhere dressed in tights and capes. Most of the girls chose Wonder Woman or Cat Woman (obviously the patent leather Halle Berry one). I wait for someone to stop me on the way up the massive stairs and ask who I am and what I’m doing here but it’s silly. Everyone knows Tate. And everyone can tell I’m with Tate by the way his hand never leaves mine.

It’s all so...weird.

The weed made me calm and I follow Tate through the house, past the questioning looks and stares. “Why is everyone looking at me?” I whisper as he hands me a drink I’m not planning to consume. I fake taking a sip. Weed and booze are not a good mix for me. Trust.

“Because you’re new,” Tate says. “And you’re with me.”

Something I’m learning about Tate is that he’s absolutely adorable. The egotistical swagger that made me dislike him in high school is still in force here, but I’ve got a different view and I realize I may have been a little harsh in my assessment. The attitude isn’t ego, it’s confidence. Dimples and a wide, easy smile make him impossible not to love. He charms the room, but never leaves my side. No one here knows me, not a soul, but they all treat me nicely because of him. He’s a God in this room and for this very strange night I’m sort of his Goddess. Tate is perfect, but even so, he’s almost too perfect for me. The more time we spent together, the more I realized I liked him; I just didn't 
like
, like him.

His hand links with mine, introducing me to people. I fight him a little at first but then remind myself that I’m b
reaking out of my shell. And no one knows me here. No one cares. The warmth of his skin against mine lacks a spark but that’s okay. In fact it’s more than okay.

“Go in the photo booth with me,” he asks. We pose like superhero
es. Tate with his huge hammer and I pull out my toy gun. For the third photo he picks me up like I’m light as a feather. On the fourth photo I’m blinded by the flash and the feeling of his lips on my cheek.

“What was that?” I ask, with narrowed eyes. Several
girls nod and whisper from nearby.

“Just having fun,” he promises. Probably true, but there’s something else going on here, for sure.

We walk through the kitchen to the back deck. Tate fills our cups and he leans against the wooden railing and takes a long swallow. I watch, surprised, as he places his cup on top of the rail and lights a cigarette. He watches me back.

"What?"
I ask. My tongue is still bold from the weed and the few sips of punch.

"You're alright
, Pip."

"I don't even k
now what that means?" I say, shaking my head.

"It means I like you and I'm not sure why we weren't friends before."

I choke on my drink. "Because I’m younger and back in high school you didn't notice me." I eye him warily. "Or now you think you can get in my pants. Oh wait, and you were a douche."

I don't know what re
action I expect to get, but all Tate has for me is a smile. "That's where you're wrong. I've noticed you for a long time."

"Oh, really?"
No chance.

"Yes, really. Pretty girls are usually on my radar
and Austin High was in short supply."

My cheeks burn
. He called me pretty. Now I’m sure he’s trying to get in my pants. I have to admit his methods are pretty solid. "You don't seem like the type to hold back from asking a girl out. Our age difference wasn’t that much."

"True," he said, pressing the cigarette between his lips and inhaling. "But, I had my reasons."

"Care to share?"

"Nope.”

I can’t even begin to imagine how my life would have been altered if Tate had been into me in high school. No idea if it would have been better or worse but it sure as hell would have been different.

“And now? What is this now?”

“I know things got weird for us at the end of senior year. We were stupid, and Henry...”

“Henry what?” I ask, heart drumming.

A freshman walks by in an apron carrying a tray of Dixie cups.  “Hold up,” Tate says to the kid, scooping a handful. He gives me a couple and I peer inside.

“Jell
-o shots?”

He raises his to mine in a toast and says, “Here’
s to summer, Pip. Growing up and taking risks.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about but he looks pretty as hell when he says it. I squeeze the paper cup into my mouth and say through a mouthful of Jell
-o, “To summer!”

Chapter Seven

Things I remember from that night:

Lime green Jell-o shots that match Tate’s eyes.

Arguing with a guy dressed like Superman that he sucks because he isn’t an Avenger.

Snuggling with Tate on the porch.

I remember him smelling good. Like laundry and man-boy. I remember relaxing because his arms felt safe around me, until the swaying and swinging make my head spin and my stomach hurt.

When I look for
Tate for help, he’s gone. He gets a series of texts and wanders off, leaving me alone with a bunch of strangers including more than one girl giving me the stink-eye.

“Bathroom?”
I ask the crowd around me. It comes out a slurry mess. One girl points toward the house but I run in the opposite direction to the edge of the deck. Even tripping over my heel, I manage to make it in time, puking over the railing. The definitive splatter of liquefied Jell-o echoes off the concrete below.

Oh no.

*

Things I don't remember from that night (but were relayed to
me the next morning by Tricia):

Being unable to find Tate at the party.

Calling Henry to come pick me up.

Threatening to
kick a sorority girl dressed as Wonder Woman in the ass.

Attempting to kick Wonder Woman in the ass and missing and face planting in the front yard of the party.

Henry carrying me to the car.

Henry
pulling the car over so I could puke again and falling out of the still-moving car on my face.

Asking Henry
if he knew his eyes were as blue as raspberry Jell-O. (No, apparently he did not know this.)

“You’re kidding,” I say to Tricia the next day. She’s sitting on my bed fighting to appear sympathetic.

“Nope, I wish I was honey, but no.”

“He dragged me home?” Poor Henry.

“Carried.” She hands me two aspirin and a bottle of water.

I
lie back on my bed and cover my face with a pillow and moan, long and throaty. I want to scream but my throat hurts from puking. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing huge,” she says. “You just can’t handle your liquor.”

I sigh. “It was the weed
and
the liquor. Deadly combination. Like last time.”

Tricia frowns. “What last time?”

I stare at my friend and roommate and realize I have to come clean. Like really come clean. “Is Josh here?”

“He’s in his room.”

Tricia hops up and bangs on his door. He comes out, hair sticking in a dozen directions, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

She waves him into my room and he crawls in under the covers. His nose twitches and he makes a repulsed face. “What the hell is that
smell?”

“I got kind of sick last night. Sorry.” I shift over.

“And your face!” He narrows his eyes. “Please don’t tell me that’s rug burn or something.”

“She fell out of Henry’s car,” Tricia says. Traitor.

“Henry? What about Tate?”

I cut in. “Listen, I haven’t been completely honest with you guys.”

They glance at one another and Josh slips his fingers through mine. “I didn’t leave school for the reasons I told you. I mean the size and classes mattered. The university does have the major
-related courses I need and Elton didn’t. But there was this thing and…” I trail off, already embarrassed.

“What happened?” Tricia asks.

I pick at my bedspread and fight a wave of nausea that I’m not sure is from the night before or from spilling this story. Probably both.

“Basically I made a raging fool of myse
lf in front of the whole school,” I confess. “Tyler and I were at this frat party and I did the same thing. Weed plus alcohol and it fucks with my head. I hardly remember anything but someone caught me on video.”

Josh squeezes my hand. “Doing what?”

“Well, first I got on the top of the fraternity house bar and did my best Coyote Ugly impression. After that I sang Sweet Child of Mine, including an air guitar solo with some girl I don’t know. Tyler tried to get me down and I flipped him off a couple of times. The grand finale was when I slipped and fell, landing on my face, ass up.”

They both stare at me, mouths hanging.

“Oh and I had on a dress and nothing on underneath.”

Tricia slaps a hand over her still gaping mouth. “No.”

“Yep, I flashed my ass and vag for everyone on campus to see. It was what the kids call, ‘Epic’.” I use my fingers to make air quotes.

Josh shakes his head.
“And this was on video?”

I nod, feeling the tightness in my chest. “Some asshat loaded it on Youtube and sent it around campus.
I got called into my advisor’s office and referred to an addiction program. The frat was put on probation for serving alcohol to a minor. My small school community became microscopic. Everyone knew me and recognized me.”

“Oh no. Did you just play it off? Like no big deal?” Josh asks. He could totally do this. He’s confident and adorable and men and women would pay to see him in his underpants.

“I started having panic attacks. Everything seemed so close. I couldn’t handle walking across campus and everyone knowing who I was and laughing at me, even if it was just in fun. My life was a mess. The professors knew about it. My parents were called out of concern. The frat was pissed at me for getting them in trouble,” I explain. “Tyler and I broke up. I wouldn’t go out and he got pissed that I got so freaking depressed about it. The whole thing was a disaster and I just moved back here.”

“Oh honey.” Tricia wraps me in a hug.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“
Because I didn’t want anyone else to know. I just wanted one place where I felt safe. The school did get the video pulled, thank god, but only because it made them look bad.”  Tears well in my eyes and I wipe them away with the back of my hand “Now I’ve done it again. Embarrassed the crap out of myself, this time at a bigger school.” I drop my hands into my face. “This is why I didn’t want to push the thing with Henry or break out of my shell. Look what happens when I do!”

“Look,” Josh says, sitting up. “This school is way bigger and no one will care about a puking girl in an Avengers suit. You’re going to have to suck this one up because you can’t hide forever.  Also, no more weed and drinks. Pick one or the other.”

“Seriously,” I agree. “I’ve learned my lesson. And stupid Tate. Bailing on me like that. I have the worst judgment with guys.”

“To be fair he called here about fifteen times last night. He feels really bad,” Tricia says.

“Ugh,” I groan, slumping into Josh’s side. “I’m pretty pissed he bailed on me. He swore he wouldn’t and then it sounds like I embarrassed the crap out of myself with Henry.”

Josh pulls me into a tight hug but recoils after a couple seconds.
“Honey, I love you and we’ll get through this but you have got to take a shower because oh my god you’re nasty.”

I open an eye and glare at Josh. “
The only way I’ll get out of bed and clean up is if we can go get waffles.”

“Done.”

*

That afternoon
, I slide a piece of paper under Henry’s door.

I’m barely up the first level of steps when h
e opens the door with the paper between two slim fingers. "What's this?"

I press my head against the railing.
"Just read it."

"Why?"

"Oh my god. Just. Read. It." He looks skeptical. Maybe he suspects I puked on it. I grind my teeth and said, "Please."

Because he has to make me feel worse he reads it out loud. I stare at the wall.

Dear Henry
,

I apologize for
calling you drunk.

And for puking on your car.

And for all other unfortunate moments last night.

Zadie

I hear
the crinkle of the paper as he refolds it and wait, terrified to look up.

"
Zadie."

"What?" My words are
muffled because I’m hiding behind my hands.

"I accept your apology."

I open an eye and look at him. His doesn’t seem pissed. In fact, he’s smiling a little. "Really?"

"Yes."

I sigh in relief. "Good."

He laughs and I give him the stink-eye. He seems
awfully amused by my humiliation, but I let it slide due to the circumstances. When he rubs his face I see his knuckles are red and scraped. Ugh, probably my fault, too.

"I'm sorry you got so sick."

"Ugh, me too. It’s half your fault with that weed.”

He reaches
a finger out to touch my cheek. "Ouch."

I roll
my eyes. At myself, of course, because of the flutter rolling around in my stomach from his finger on my skin. "Apparently, I fell out of the car."

"I tried to stop. You opened the door before I pulled all the way over."

"I heard. I don't really remember much."

“That’s probably for the best.”

I make a face. “Did you really carry me in?”

He smiles and I notice a tiny dimple by his eye.
Maybe a scar. One of his roommates walks up and says hi, disappearing through the open door.

“I should go,” I say, watching the guy, Syd, I think go inside.

“Tomorrow? Pick you up at 9:30?”

I nod, happy he’s not going to let this get any weirder. Happy that I’m at this big school where I don’t have to face a thousand Facebook friends laughing at my antics. Just this guy.  This really great guy.
“It’s going to be awkward with Tate.”

“Why?”

“I embarrassed myself and him. He ditched me. I don’t know. It’s just unfortunate, you know?”

“
Zadie, you are not the first person to puke at a frat party.”

I sigh and take the
first step toward my apartment. “Thanks, Henry.”

He frowns, just a little, bu
t it vanishes fast. “Anytime.”

*

I meet Henry at his car the next morning. He’s half asleep, hair a total mess, and a fine, red line run down his cheek from his bed sheets.

“Over sleep?” I ask, getting into the car. He tosses his towel and pool bag into the backseat.

He grunts in reply and rubs his hand over his face. “You’re awful chipper for someone so hung-over yesterday.”

“I have a sure-fire hang-over remedy.”

Henry pulls the car out of the parking lot and heads toward the pool. “Enlighten me.”

“
Stage one is waffles, bacon and hash browns. Stage two; French fries and a cheeseburger. Additional necessities include several large sodas and a big piece of chocolate cake.”

His eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Works every time. I also crashed at about 8 PM even though my downstairs neighbors were yelling all night while they played Grand Theft Auto.”

He glances over and I can see his eye wrinkles. “Sorry about that.”

I shrug. “We’re pretty used to it.”

Henry pulls into the convenience store and we go in to get snacks. It’s become a daily ritual. Sodas, lemonade, candy.
We hop back in the car and make it to the pool just in time. To our surprise, Tate’s here. It should be his day off.

“You going to be okay?” Henry asks before we get out of the car.

“Sure, why?”

“With Tate being here and everything. You were pretty pissed at him the other night.” I try to remember and vaguely recall being dragged away from the party and yelling something about ‘kicking ass’.

“He called yesterday. I think he feel
s pretty bad about stranding me, which is stupid because I’m the one that made an ass out of myself.”

“
No,” Henry says, his eyes dark. “He should feel sorry.”

Tate meets me at the gate with an apologetic smile.
He’s not in his trunks but regular shorts and a T-shirt. “How are you feeling?”

“I’
m fine,” I say, feeling stupid.

“She powered through it on junk food and sugar,” Henry says, walking past us to the office.

“Why are you here?”

Tate
grabs my hand.  “I’m a douche.”

“
Obviously.”

“And a jerk
.”

“Yes,” I agree.
“You came in on your day off to tell me that? I got your messages. We’re good. Besides I’m the one that embarrassed myself.”

“
Are you kidding? You’re a legend.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep, all anyone can talk about is the kick-ass chick dressed up like Black Widow. I know five guys that want your number.”