The Rules of Regret (15 page)

“
Ten years for me: I hope I
’
m still involved with the camp here.
Probably running it since Mom and Dad will be close to retirement. Have a
family. And a hot wife that walks around in bikinis.
”
His eyes glazed over in a far-off
stare.
“
Yep,
that
’
s
my dream.
”

“
All of that sounds realistic, other
than the wife in a bikini part. Good luck with that.
”
I delivered an audible snicker, just
for the effect.

“
Don
’
t need luck. I
’
ve got a twinge of Irish in me, too.
Luck is in my blood.
”
Luck, as I
’
d
discovered, wasn
’
t
in mine.
“
By
the way, Darby, you do realize that everything you said involved plans with
Lance, right?
”

“
He
’
s pretty much my plan.
”
I couldn
’
t foresee a future that didn
’
t involve Lance in it. Even with our
mistakes, it felt safer to keep him in my life than to let him fall out of it.

I
realized that maybe made me seem pathetic to the outside world, but the outside
world hadn
’
t
seen how dark my inside had been. Lance was the light that I
’
d needed at a time in my life, and
even if it had dwindled to the point of a dim flicker, it was still there. In
the darkness, he still provided some guiding illumination that I really was
afraid to snuff out completely. I didn
’
t
want to be left alone in the dark.

“
You must have missed the part where I
said, 'what do you
hope
to be doing.
’
If you were listening, all of mine
were hopes, all of yours were plans,
”
Torin continued.

“
I think it
’
s good to be prepared.
”

“
I think it
’
s foolish.
”

“
How so?
”
I questioned him, cocked brow and
all.
“
It
’
s kinda foolish to be caught
off-guard.
”

“
It
’
s kinda prideful to have a plan.
”

“
Once again, Torin, you
’
ve talked me into circles with your
philosophical ramblings.
”

I
wasn
’
t
trailing behind him anymore, but was at his side, and our hands did that
awkward thing where they would nearly brush against one another, but not quite.
That moment where it felt like maybe they should be holding, but not really.
The inch of space between them buzzed like the air was alive.

“
To have a plan is prideful because it
’
s saying we think we have some
control.
”

“
If you
’
re trying to convince me of some
greater power, I
’
m
not sure you
’
ll
be successful,
”
I warned.

“
I
’
m saying it
’
s fruitless to plan. A waste of time.
We can
’
t
control our future any more than we can guarantee our next breath.
”

Because
his statement made me nervous, I took an extra long time inhaling, just to be
sure to fill my lungs to full capacity, before I expelled,
“
That
’
s really depressing.
”

“
Maybe,
”
he lifted his shoulders in
surrender.
“
Or
maybe not. I think it
’
s
nice not to have all that responsibility. All that planning takes work and life
hardly ever turns out the way we plan.
”
He continued, saying,
“
I
like adventure. Start each day as a new one. Keeps things exciting.
”

“
Then what
’
s the point of your Ten from Now game
if you don
’
t
plan?
”

“
I hope.
”

“
Plan. Hope. Isn
’
t that the same?
”

“
No, one involves expectancy. The
other involves optimism.
”

Though
it was really all semantics, he was right. And it made me think for a bit and
the quiet that fell between us should have made me uncomfortable, but
apparently Torin and I had reached that point in our new relationship where we
could be silent in the other
’
s
presence without the awkwardness. That was about the only thing about us that
didn
’
t
feel awkward.

“
I think maybe you should come up with
a new game,
”
I said, finally.

“
Come on. Has to be better than that
mush
game you played as a kid.
”

“
MASH,
”
I giggled, cupping my mouth with my
hand.
“
And
it
’
s
seriously fun, but cootie catchers were better.
”
I pulled on the straps to my bag
until they were so tight they almost cut off the circulation in my arms. Why
did being around Torin make me do these awkward things where I practically
inflicted pain on myself?
“
We
’
ll play once we get back to camp.
”

He
smiled his
“
okay
”
and then said,
“
You did really well, Darby,
”
nearly congratulating me, catching
me off-guard.
“
You
survived.
”
He slapped my shoulder and unbearable heat swept through my veins as his palm
stayed there just a few moments longer than it needed to.

“
Just barely,
”
I muttered, crumpling my shoulder
straps between my tense, nervous fingers.

“
Just barely is loads better than not
at all.
”
He stood directly in front of me, and when he playfully brushed the tip of his finger
across my nose, my legs dropped out from under me and I went all boneless.
“
Which is good, because you
’
re kinda growing on me. So I
’
m glad you
’
re still alive and well.
”

Though
I might physically have survived the overnighter, it sure didn
’
t feel like the Darby that came here
two days ago was alive and well at all. She might not have been dead, but she
was definitely lost. Total missing person
’
s
status. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Torin had made it his mission to
find her. I almost hoped he failed, because I couldn
’
t even begin to think what it would
mean if he succeeded.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“
Now pick a color.
”

“
Yellow.
”
Torin tucked his legs up underneath
him so they crisscrossed in a knot. The mattress jumped a bit with his movement
and I almost wanted to duck to avoid cracking my head against the rails
overhead like yesterday.

“
Y-E-L-L-O-W,
”
I said, opening and closing the
cootie catcher, alternating back and forth with each letter.
“
Now pick a number.
”

“
Six.
”

“
One, two, three, four, five, six.
”
My fingers opened and closed along
with my mouth.
“
Another
number.
”

Torin
scrunched up his face playfully like he was deliberating, wobbled his head back
and forth and after a long, overstated pause
—
the ones that aren
’
t necessary for anything other than
dramatization
—
he
said,
“
Four.
”

I
peeled back the tab with the 4 scribbled across it in black ink.
“
You will do something that terrifies
you.
”

“
False!
”
Torin blurted loudly. His voice
cracked, and though it probably embarrassed him, as it rightfully should, I
found it quite endearing.

“
It
’
s not true or false. And it
’
s not even a question. It
’
s a fortune.
”

He
pulled his shoulders up to his ears, his blond
—
definitely blond
—
hair coiling around
the curve of them.
“
I
’
m not afraid of anything, so it
’
s not doing a very good job
predicting my future.
”

“
Oh come on!
”
I leaned closer and wagged a finger
in his face.
“
You
’
re seriously not afraid of anything?
Everyone
’
s
afraid of something.
”

“
Try me.
”

The
cocky quality in his tone challenged me, so I took him up on it.
“
Alright.
”
I thumbed my chin and tightened my
brow, scrunching my lips as I racked my brain.
“
Snakes.
”

“
Kill an average of six a summer.
”

“
Okay,
”
I said, running down a list of
common fears in my brain.
“
Bears.
”

Torin
chuckled and buckled at the waist in an exaggerated fit of laughter, wicked
witch cackle style.
“
Oh
please, Darby. At least
try
to be
serious.
”

“
Falling.
”

“
Have you completely given up?
”
He was right. That was a stupid one.
Obviously
.

“
Flying.
”
No readied comeback sailed from
Torin
’
s
lips and I thought for a moment I might have touched on something with that
last one.
“
You
’
re afraid of flying?
”
I held my eyes wide open, awestruck.

“
Not necessarily afraid,
”
Torin said, hesitantly. He looked a
little irritated, like I might have discovered some weakness in his armor.
“
I subscribe to the belief that it
’
s impossible to be afraid of
something you
’
ve
never done.
”

“
You
’
ve never flown on a plane?
”

“
No,
”
he retorted.
“
I
’
ve never had the need, or the
opportunity.
”

“
We need to see what we can do to
change that.
”
I
’
d flown in planes more times than I
could count. I couldn
’
t
imagine being nineteen-years-old and never having seen the earth from a bird
’
s eye view. Torin was seriously
missing out; from what I knew of him so far, flying would totally be his thing.
Maybe it was my turn to help him with his unknowns.

“
Anything else you
’
ve never done?
”
I jeered, intentionally trying to
rile him up because I liked what it did to him when he got flustered.

“
I
’
ve never had sex,
”
Torin shot out,
“
but I
’
m fairly certain I
’
m not afraid of that, either.
”

Record
scratch.

Wait
…
what
?

I
tossed the stare from my face quickly and attempted to reclaim my composure,
but it was completely lost. My eyes dropped to my hands, which had totally
mangled our poor cootie catcher. It was nothing but a crumpled wad of paper in
my clenched grasp. Torin pulled it from my fingers to smooth it out, grinning
widely like he was proud that he caught me off guard, like maybe that was his
plan.

“
Excuse me?
”

“
Don
’
t worry,
”
he smiled, his dimples deep-set,
making something deep within my stomach flip-flop.
“
Unlike the flying, I
’
m not expecting you to
‘
see what you can do to change that.
’
”

I
tried to swallow quietly, but I was certain he heard it. Like that awkward
moment when you watched a movie with your parents and a full on sex-scene
starts up on the screen. It was mortifying
—
humiliating
on a whole new level. You tried not to move
—
tried not to even breathe
—
because the last
thing you wanted was your mom thinking you were actually alive and watching it.
It was like you played dead. Torin
’
s
recent confession sort of made me want to play dead. I was
possum-on-the-side-of-the-highway road kill and rigor mortis had already set
in.

“
Okay.
”
He reassembled the cootie catcher
and slipped his thumbs and third fingers into it awkwardly like he was holding
a grenade about to detonate.
“
Your
turn.
”

“
That
’
s not how you hold it.
”

“
Show me then.
”
Torin thrust his hands my direction.

I
pulled back, the rickety bed frame rattling underneath me.

“
Show me, Darby.
”

“
Like this,
”
I said, holding up my index fingers
and thumbs to illustrate how to correctly do it, but they were stiff and
hesitant and took more effort to move than usual.

“
I don
’
t get it,
”
he said, but he couldn
’
t be serious. Five-year-olds had
mastered this game.
“
Show
me.
”

I
wasn
’
t
about to slip my hands over his to teach him how to do some playground game.

Totally
ignoring my falter, Torin grabbed my hands within his, his knuckles brushing
the backs of them.
“
Show
me how to do this, Darby.
”
I felt my pulse slamming in my wrist against his warm skin. A sheen of sweat
swept across my upper lip.
“
It
’
s only fair, since I taught you how
to survive in the wilderness and all. An actual
skill
you might use someday.
”
He pulled my hands tighter.
“
The
least you can do is teach me how to play this juvenile game.
”

“
I don
’
t think the wilderness thing will
ever come in handy,
”
I breathed, my words so light and airy it made me dizzy to say them.
“
Fortune telling seems a bit more
useful than wilderness training.
”

Torin
continued cupping my hands, and I slipped them out to rest on the outside of
his. Taking his thumbs and index fingers, I positioned them in the slots in the
origami.
“
Okay.
”
His eyes drilled into mine and drew
the available breath out of me, which wasn't much to begin with.
“
Now what?
”

“
Now you pick a color,
”
I instructed, but the only color I
registered was the intense green that stared at me, flooding my veins with
fire. Take that back. Red. I could picture red, too, because my cheeks had to
be the darkest shade of it. If you could literally feel a color, I was in the
midst of being red. Hot, fiery red.

“
Blue,
”
Torin answered. He still hadn
’
t blinked.

“
B-L-U-E,
”
I repeated, and when I said it, I
moved our hands, motioning each letter by rhythmically opening and closing the
folded paper. By the time I got to the E, I was going to pass out. How on earth
could playing a game like cootie catcher feel like foreplay?
“
Now pick a number.
”

“
Three.
”

“
One, two, three.
”
Our hands glided again in synchrony,
the paper rustling nervously between us.
“
And
one last time.
”

Torin
’
s eyes remained pinned on mine. You
’
d never even know there was anything
in our hands because he hadn
’
t
bothered looking down at them once. That was, until he gave up his intense
stare for a brief second, his eyes sliding down to my mouth, pausing a moment
before they snapped up again. I licked my lips because they were incredibly
chapped, but that was probably from all of the air I had been panting in and
out. Seriously, what was happening to me?

“
One.
”

Grateful
to be done with our game, and with our handholding, I peeled back the triangle
and read,
“
You
will learn something new.
”

Like
he couldn
’
t
believe it, Torin shoved my shoulder and I nearly tumbled all the way back onto
my pillow.
“
You
totally set that one up, Darby!
”
he playfully accused, his eyes slivered and his lips pursed. He jabbed at me
again.

I
caught myself on my elbows and pushed back up to sit, shaking the cootie
catcher at him.
“
No
I didn
’
t.
It
’
s
your fortune. I told you these things were useful.
”

“
I
’
ve learned a lot today,
”
Torin admitted, nodding. He
stretched his hand across the space between us, and when it settled on my own,
my mouth went dry, like a hundred cotton balls were stuffed into it. I couldn
’
t form any words, and even if I
could, they wouldn
’
t
have had any room to make their way out.
“
You
’
re a good teacher, Darby. You
’
ll make a great counselor.
”
He bit his lip sharply between his
teeth.
“
I
should head back to my cabin. I
’
m
really not supposed to be in your room, let alone in your bed.
”