Perfect Regret
Page 6

Go back to sleep, you wanton slut! I screamed silently at my insolent vagina. She and I were not in agreement as to the best way to handle this.
Because even though my brain couldn’t remember my night of lust, other parts of my body obviously had crystal clear memories of it.
Once mystery guy settled back into sleep, I started the futile process of trying to wiggle out from underneath him. My hands pressed into surprisingly smooth and hard skin and I flattened my palms against a seemingly muscular chest in an effort to budge the massive amounts of man pinning me to the bed.
Even in my moment of self-mortifying disgust, I was pleased that my bed partner appeared to have a nice body. Glad to know that even in my drunken psychosis I could still be called on to pick a guy with a nice set of abs.
Get a grip, Riley! As if his body matters when you’re trying to walk of shame out of here! I scolded myself harshly.
After a few minutes, I grudgingly realized I was stuck. My ass wasn’t going anywhere. And now I had to pee. My bladder was being pressed painfully by the guy’s weight.
Ah, f**k it!
“Hey!” I yelled, shoving the dude’s shoulder. He grunted and tightened his ironclad grip around my waist. If he didn’t get off me in about ten seconds, he was going to wake up in a very wet bed.
I leaned in close and moved some hair away from his ear, making a concerted effort to not notice how soft and silky it felt between my fingers.
“Wake up!” I yelled and then smacked the back of his head for good measure.
Yep, that did the trick.
The guy bolted straight up in bed. “What the fuck?” he growled and leaned over to flip on the lamp. And it was then that I got my first glimpse of my one-night stand.
“You have GOT to be freaking kidding me!” I screeched, hurriedly pulling up the sheet to cover my entirely too na**d breasts.
Garrett Bellows ran a hand through his shoulder length blond hair and blinked at me in confusion. “What the hell is your problem?” he asked, scrubbing his face with his hands before dropping back onto the bed. My eyes drifted down the length of his very toned and obnoxiously nice body until they stopped and honed in on a very prominent part of his anatomy that I only too recently felt pressed intimately against me. And Mr. Veined and Throbbing was at attention and on very prominent display. I swallowed thickly as images came swimming back through my hazy memory.
Garrett kissing me as though I had been the air he breathed. Garrett softly touching me an then laying me out on the bed I now found myself in. I closed my eyes and could see him over me as his weight pressed me into the mattress.
I shivered uncontrollably. Shit, shit, shit!
I opened my eyes and sneered at him, throwing a sheet over his lower half. “Cover yourself up, will you?” I snarled, leaning over the side of the bed and finding my shirt from the night before. I quickly pulled it over my head and felt better at having a barrier between Garrett and my skin.
Garrett had lowered his arm and was watching me. He didn’t look angry by my attitude. He didn’t appear to be hurt in any way by my obvious dismissal of him. This was both a relief and strangely disappointing.
He seemed only thoughtful. Curious even.
What the hell?
“Where are my pants?” I muttered under my breath. I got out of bed, trying not to die of total embarrassment as I flashed Garrett a pretty picture of my ass while I bent over to retrieve the rest of my discarded clothing. As I finished getting dressed, I grumbled, I cursed, and I otherwise fumed at my total idiocy.
And Garrett freaking Bellows didn’t say a damned thing. He just lay there, watching me, as though he found me supremely entertaining.
“Do you know where my keys are?” I asked him, hating that I had to talk to him at all. I would rather have left with my head hung in shame, never to reveal my night as Miss Skankalicious to anyone ever.
Garrett pointed across the room. “You dropped your bag when we came in here last night. I’m guessing you’ll find them in there,” he remarked dryly. He stood up and I was treated to another view of his body. And my body tingled in response.
My eyes fell onto the tattoo on his side and words floated through my brain.
Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
Where the heck did that come from? My chest pitter-pattered painfully for some unknown reason.
Time to shut this crap down here and now.
“I just need to get out of here,” I said more to myself than to him but he heard me loud and clear.
“Why the rush?” Garrett asked, cocking his eyebrow. His blasé nonchalance prickled my already testy nerves and reminded me of why he annoyed the shit out of me. People that laid back drove me crazy.
“No sense in wasting anymore of your time. I think we’re done here,” I spat out, glaring at him. I knew I was being horrible but I was mortified by my behavior.
Riley Walker does not get so drunk she blacks out.
Riley Walker does not have sex with a guy she barely knows; particularly when said guy was one she could barely stand.
And apparently Riley Walker was now talking about herself in the third person. Hello insanity!
Garrett pulled on a pair of sweat pants and lifted my purse. I grit my teeth as he crooked his finger in my direction. “You want it, come over here and get it.” He was messing with me. Trying to make me more uncomfortable than I already was.
Well screw him!
Wait… I had already done that…Ugh!
I snatched it from him, making sure not to touch him as I did so. More flashes flooded my brain.
His lips. His hands. The way he said my name right before he kissed me.
What I wouldn’t give for another bought of alcohol-induced amnesia right about now.
Garrett’s eyes heated for a moment, as though he could read my mind. His gaze slid down the length of me and then came back up to meet my eyes where they cooled slowly. His mouth, entirely too pretty to be a guy’s, set into a firm line and for a second, I felt a flash of regret.
Not for our night together. But for the way I was treating him. He didn’t deserve to be shitted on because I was feeling like a f**k up. I opened my mouth to apologize, a Riley Walker first, when he beat me to the punch.
He walked passed me to the bedroom door and opened it wide. He gave me a cold smile. “Oh, we’re done here all right.” Garrett ran his fingers down the side of my neck and I couldn’t help but notice the way his face softened a bit before he went in for the kill.
“It was fun, but I won’t be signing up for round two. You can leave now.” His grin was as brittle as broken glass and I felt my face flush red in a mixture of humiliation and gnaw-through-his-jugular rage.
To hell with the apology!
I leaned up on my tiptoes, my hands gripping his shoulders. My lips hovered near his and I smirked inwardly at the hitch in his breathing. “Well it’s a good thing you were entirely forgettable then,” I whispered, licking my lips slowly and chuckling as Garrett’s eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Now get the f**k out of my way,” I bit out, moving away from him. Garrett blinked, his eyes becoming once again glacial cool and he gestured me out into the hallway and then proceeded to slam the door behind me.
Well that went well, I thought as I made my way as stealthily as possible out of the house. There were a few people passed out on the couch in the living room, a guy snoring on top of the pool table. I could hear voices in the kitchen, recognizing Cole and Mitch. I scurried out of the house as fast as my little legs could carry me.
I remembered that Maysie had most likely came and looked for me last night. Crap! She must think I was dead in a ditch somewhere. Or worse. She could know that I spent the night at Garrett’s house! How was I going to explain that one?
I was abducted by aliens and just now escaped. No. How about I was playing a riveting game of Scrabble and lost all track of the time?
I was done for.
Bad mistakes were Maysie Ardin’s MO, not mine. I felt like a miserable failure on all fronts. I was hung-over and ashamed. Not a good combination when you felt like throwing up all over your shoes.
I practically ran to my car and got inside. I started it up and was then compelled by some masochistic urge to look one last time toward the house. Curtains moved in a second story window and I knew that I saw the unmistakable outline of Garrett against the glass.
Crap, there it was again.
Regret.
And as I drove away from Garrett’s house, I wanted desperately to leave that unfortunate feeling behind but it took up quiet residence in my heart. And I feared it wouldn’t let go anytime soon.
My mind was a mess of hazy recollections from the night before and the memory of Garrett’s face when I essentially told him to f**k off. Man, I had been such a shrew.
I could remember talking to him on the couch last night. Being with him must have made some crazy sort of sense at some point.
I shook my head and turned on my radio, hoping the sound of angsty chick rock could drown out the remnants of my guilt.
My phone chirped from inside my purse. Digging it out, I glanced at the screen, feeling an encroaching sense of dread as I saw the number of missed calls and texts from Maysie.
Was it too late to make a run for it? Maybe I could head to Mexico and assume a secret identity. That way I could avoid the morning after explanations my roommate would be expecting.
So I took my time heading home. I stopped at McDonald’s and got myself a coffee. Then I decided I needed a few magazines. And while I was at it, I needed to fill my car up with gas.
And you know what, a lovely scenic drive on the back roads of Bakersville was just what the doctor ordered.
I had successfully prolonged the inevitable for a whole hour and a half. It was almost eight when I finally pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. I cut off the engine and sat there for a while.
Why was I so scared to go in and face Maysie? It could be because I felt like such a hypocritical loser. I was notorious for dishing out advice, telling my best friend how she should be living her life. Laying into her when she makes choices I deemed irresponsible. And yes, I had judged her for it. I hated that I had, but it didn’t change the fact that Judgmental was my middle name.
And here I was coming home, wearing the same gross clothes I had worn last night, still smelling like Eau de Garrett.
I finally headed toward the apartment. Just as I put my key into the lock, the door flung open and a very angry Maysie stood before me with her hands on her hips.
She grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside, slamming the door behind me. She took in the sight of me, noticing my current state of disarray. Her eyes narrowed as she processed what my arrival this morning meant.
Then her furious expression changed and her lips split into a devious grin that was ten times more frightening.
“Oh my god! I want details!” Maysie pulled me into the kitchen where she already had the coffee maker going and cups set out on the counter as though she were waiting for me to show up.
“What the heck are you doing up at this hour?” I asked, hoping to delay the inevitable interrogation.
Maysie poured us both a cup of coffee and got out the creamer, handing to me. “I’ve been waiting for you, jerk face! You had me worried to death!” I took a sip and cringed. It was the worst coffee I had ever had. Maybe that was my roommate’s sadistic plan of revenge for worrying her; kill me with bad coffee and endless hounding for information. It was definitely the most horrendous death I could think of.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about that,” I said, hopping up on one of the stools by the island.
Maysie sat beside me and stirred her drink, watching me closely. “Yeah, well Jordan said he saw you go off with Garrett who told us he’d give you a ride home later. I argued that the last person in the world you’d want to drive you home was Garrett Bellows. But when I tried to find you…well let’s just say I got an eye full,” she said, poking my arm.
My neck and face flushed red and I felt as though I were on fire. Oh Jesus Christ. What the hell had been my problem last night? I wish I could recall exactly why sleeping with Garrett had seemed like a good idea.
“I’m a bit shocked, I must say. He was the last guy I would have ever guessed to hit the Riley Walker crazy sex radar. But I’ve heard he’s a tiger in the sack. Plus, he’s totally hot in that ‘I couldn’t give a crap about anything but making you come’ sort of way. Don’t you dare tell Jordan that I said that,” Maysie rambled. I was having difficulty keeping up with her at this point in my morning. And honestly, the whole thing was making my already pounding head, crack open so my brains could spill out on the floor.
I was in overload. I couldn’t wrap my head around the way my life had detoured in the last twelve hours. It was too much for my poor morning after brain to compute.
I hung my head, not meeting her eyes. “Can we not do this, Mays? I’m exhausted and I have to work tonight,” I pleaded, hoping if I sounded pitiful enough she’d stop.
Maysie was quiet and I looked up to find her staring at me strangely. “What?” I asked her.
She shook her head and gave me a smile. “Nothing. I just don’t understand you,” she stated, putting her mug in the sink.
“What do you mean? Just spit it out. My head hurts, I’ve already dry heaved a few times on the drive home. I’m not in the mood to play who’s smarter than Maysie,” I said shortly.
Maysie opened her mouth but then promptly shut it again. “Mays, baby? What are you doing? I don’t like waking up without you.” Jordan came into the kitchen and pulled his girlfriend into his arms, holding her tightly. She leaned into him and I gave an exaggerated cough. The Maysie and Jordan version of a donkey show would need to wait until I was safely out of the room. Unless they like wearing projectile vomit as a legit style.