Perfect Regret
Page 7

Jordan looked over at me and smiled. “Hey girl. You just getting home?” he asked me incredulously. Okay, now I was getting annoyed. I could barely deal with the shocked questioning from my roommate. But I didn’t need a round of “I can’t believe Riley made a bunch of shitty decisions” from Jordan freaking Levitt.
I could barely stomach hypocrisy on a good day. So being force-fed a hefty dose of my own was beyond what I wanted to deal with right then. I threw my hands into the air in exasperation.
“Yes, I decided to play the slut kitten last night and engaged in a round of barely conscious sex. I don’t remember much about it. I don’t think I want to remember anything about it. So let’s just put this all in the I will never drink that much again category and move on,” I said loudly. I blew out a breath and walked passed the pair, heading to my room.
Maysie followed me and stood in the doorway. “It’s okay, you know,” she said as I pulled back the blankets on my bed so I could crawl in and forget last night ever happened.
“What?” I asked with more than a little annoyance.
“That you slept with Garrett. It doesn’t make you a slut. I’m just a little surprised is all. But we can talk about it later. Get some sleep before you grow your talons and claw everyone’s eyes out,” she said good-naturedly and with entirely too much supportive understanding for this time in the morning.
“We will not be talking about this later, Mays. There’s nothing to talk about. So put that thought right out of that head of yours,” I said stubbornly. I kicked off my shoes and got into bed. “Now I’m gonna try to sleep this hangover away before I have to work this evening,” I said pointedly.
And thankfully Maysie left it at that. After she closed the door, I found that no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get to sleep. I tossed and turned but every time I closed my eyes all I could see was Garrett’s face as I left this morning.
I had the feeling I had made a bigger mess than I realized.
“I’m so excited that we got chosen for this internship! Can you believe it, Riley? Out of all the seniors in the English department, we are the ones that get to work at the Bakersville Times for an entire semester! It’s gonna be epic!” Gracie Cook was practically bouncing in the passenger seat as I drove toward the local newspaper’s downtown office.
Even though I wasn’t as effusive as Gracie when it came to showing my enthusiasm, I could admit I was pretty damn excited. Gracie and I were both English majors with concentrations in journalism. We had been in the same classes for most of our college career.
At one time that had bugged the crap out of me. Gracie and I had only ever pretended to get along. We put on the happy smiles for Maysie’s sake since we were both friends of hers. However, last school year we had formed an uneasy alliance during the Maysie and Jordan Crazypalooza and had inexplicably become friends.
And once again the gods snickered in delight at throwing together the train wreck of all friendships. I seemed to have a lot of those. Gracie was the opposite of me in every way possible. She was perky and full of energy. I was…well…less perky.
But somehow, someway, over the last year, I found that I was less and less irritated by her chipmunk squealing and even found her…gasp…endearing. Sure, she looked like she stepped straight out of some deep south molly sue magazine. The girl spent way too much time on her makeup and lately was becoming entirely too acquainted with the drunk end of a bottle of vodka, but I dug her. She had a sharp edge to her that I could identify with. Even if she did hide it under layers of pastels and lip gloss.
The thing about Gracie is she played the part of the ditzy blonde but in reality she was one of the smartest people I knew. She had an almost photographic memory and I knew for a fact her GPA was almost as impressive as my own. Why she continued to act like the proverbial Scarecrow without a brain was beyond me.
We had found out a few weeks back that we had both been awarded the highly coveted Bakersville Times internship. To say it was a big deal was an understatement. Every senior in the English department vied for the chance to gain hands-on experience at the award winning newspaper. It opened doors that we all desperately wanted kicked open for us.
Sure, Bakersville was a small town, but its newspaper was one of the most respected on the east coast. It had a lot to do with Gary Findle, the editor in chief who had been a reporter for the Washington Post for almost twenty years. When he moved to Bakersville with his wife fifteen years ago, he took on the failing newspaper and turned it into what it is today.
So Rinard students wanting to break into journalism would sell their kidneys for the chance to learn from him. Three students were chosen out of hundreds and somehow, Gracie and I had earned the spots.
“Yeah, it should be pretty sweet,” I said, trying to affect a nonchalance I didn’t feel. Because inside I was bouncing as much as Gracie. But it would blow my too cool for school cover to scream like a banshee at the top of my lungs.
Gracie playfully punched me in the arm. “Pretty sweet? Admit it, you’re ready to piss yourself,” she teased. I snorted and let out a small whoop, making Gracie laugh.
“You’re a lost cause, Ri,” Gracie complained good-naturedly.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve cornered the market on excitable energy. I’ll just syphon off yours,” I told her, turning left at the red light and cutting off a bright blue BMW that honked loudly at me. I waved my middle finger out the window, earning me a look from my friend.
“What? They were totally in my way,” I stated innocently. Gracie only shook her head and then moved the topic into less comfortable territory.
“So where did you disappear to on Saturday?” she asked me and I had to cough around the squeak that escaped my mouth. The question was asked in obvious ignorance so I hoped like hell that Maysie hadn’t opened her big mouth. And if she had, there was a lake and a pair of cement shoes with her name on it.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” I asked indifferently. I was one cool ass bitch! That’s right, Samuel L. Jackson ain’t got nothin’ on me, mothafucker!
I had successfully dodged Maysie’s not so subtle attempts at conversation around my night as a college slut bag. If I wasn’t going to get into the dirty details with her, I wasn’t about to spill the naughty to Gracie.
My plan was to pretend that the whole thing hadn’t happened. My memories of the night in question were hazy at best. Though what I could remember left me feeling mortified.
I seemed to recall following Garrett into his bedroom and promptly removing my clothes. I don’t think I gave the poor guy a chance to say anything before I was on him. It was then that my mind went mercifully blank. I had either experienced some sort of psychotic break or I had been possessed by the evil spirit of a dead p**n star.
Because one thing was for certain, the girl who had jumped into Garrett Bellows’ bed was not the Riley I worked hard to be. Knowing I had so willingly spread my legs for a guy I could barely stomach did a number on my sense of self-respect.
I wasn’t a prude. I wasn’t a goody goody. I didn’t subscribe to the antiquated notion that I needed to wait for marriage to have sex. I had chucked my v-card out the window a long time ago. But I always prided myself on sharing that intimate experience with someone that mattered. Someone that was invested in me as a person.
And it was obvious Garrett barely invested in himself, let alone anyone else. The guy was a wreck in the worst possible way.
Gracie snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Riley. What the heck girl? I’ve been talking for like five minutes and you just totally spaced out,” Gracie harrumphed. I gave her a weak smile.
“Sorry, G. Give me a recap,” I said, turning into the parking lot of the Bakersville Times. I found a spot in the very back of the lot, meaning we’d have to hoof it to get to our internship on time. I grabbed my bag off the back seat and took off toward the building with Gracie scurrying behind me.
“Wait up, Ri! My short little legs can’t keep up!” she yelled. I slowed down and let her catch up to me. She gave me an annoyed look. “I was saying before you decided to check out of the conversation, that I looked for you later at Garrett’s. But you disappeared. Maysie had no idea where you went. We looked forever for you. Where’d you go?” Gracie asked, her words coming in short bursts as she struggled to keep up with my long legged gait.
She must not have looked too hard; otherwise I’m sure she would have known exactly where I ended up. I let out a relieved sigh that I hoped Gracie didn’t notice.
“I was tired,” was all I said, hoping she’d drop it. “Plus, I figured you were busy with Mr. Shaved and Tattooed.” I expertly maneuvered the conversation into more palatable terrain. Gracie giggled on cue.
“His name was Dave. And he’s in the Army. And he was so freaking hot,” Gracie began an overly detailed rundown of her weekend bed buddy’s amazing characteristics. I nodded and made suitable comments when necessary. Thanks god for Gracie’s one-track mind.
As we approached the office, any semblance of conversation was halted over the sound of drills and hammers. The front of the Times building was a veritable construction zone. We headed toward the side of the office to use another door, trying to stay out of the way of the construction workers.
Of course the whistles and catcalls ensued as soon as the sweaty, mucky men caught sight of us. I couldn’t help but notice the way Gracie put a bit more sway to her h*ps as we walked, throwing flirty grins at some of the guys as we passed. I rolled my eyes and grabbed her arm.
“We don’t have time for you to play Bachelorette with the construction crew. We’re going to be late.” I gave Gracie a tug and pulled her into the building behind me, cutting off the sound of the sexually laced comments that followed us. I didn’t have time to hear about how much they wanted to grab my ass.
We walked up to the receptionist and explained we were the new interns. The rather harried looking woman with a head full of frizzy grey hair and glasses entirely too big for her hawkish face pointed to the row of chairs behind us. We made ourselves comfortable as we waited until someone noticed we were there. I sat picking at my nails while Gracie scrolled through her texts. And then my day sank firmly into a big pile of suck.
“Riley,” a voice I recognized all too well said from behind me. Gracie’s head shot up and her eyes widened. My mouth thinned and I clenched my jaw so tightly I was worried I’d break a tooth.
Deep breaths. Deep, cleansing breaths.
I slowly turned around and stared into the green eyes that up until a month ago were my entire world. Another pair of eyes flashed through my mind. A pretty blue darkening with desire as they looked at me.
Not now, Riley! You are such a ho!
“Damien,” I said in a tone reserved for sales calls and door-to-door missionaries. Of course Damien had gotten the other internship spot. Because my life needed some added crap thrown at it.
Gracie’s eyes were practically bugging out of her head. She watched me as though waiting for me to go berzerker on his ass. Which wasn’t a half bad idea…
Damien smiled nervously. He looked good in his perfectly pressed khakis and green polo shirt. His wavy hair was tamed into a messy style around his forehead. His signature dark framed glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them back up with his forefinger in a gesture that was at once familiar and surprisingly annoying.
“I heard you got one of the spots. Congrats. I know how much you wanted it,” Damien said and then cleared his throat. He looked at Gracie as though she would save him from the dense sea of awkwardness we were drowning in. She looked back at him blankly.
“Yep,” I let my lips pop around the word. He stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. I should have been pleased that he was uncomfortable. Reveling in how off balanced I made him but all I felt was sad that two people who used to love each other were now barely speaking.
A woman who was all business saved us. She barely looked at us as she introduced herself as Diane Carleton. She was the assistant editor and would be showing us around. This was all told in the briefest way possible, with minimal interaction. She seemed irritated that she was the one tasked with intern duty. I got it. We were the peons at the bottom of the shit pile. And we were going to be treated accordingly.
That was fine. I appreciated knowing exactly where I stood in the grand scheme of things. No surprises. I could function in that sort of environment. It’s what I was comfortable in.
Despite the frosty greeting, I couldn’t help but get excited as we walked through the bustling newsroom full of chatter and ringing telephones. It was a hive of activity and I hummed with it. This was my scene. This is what I wanted to do with my life. This is where I belonged.
“And here are your desks. Sorry you’ve got such a crappy workspace but the building is undergoing major renovations. And since you’re on the low rung of the ladder, you get this,” Diane said, not sounding sorry at all as she indicated three desks shoved into a corner beside a large plastic sheet that separated the usable work space with a demolition zone.
It was loud. Sounds of construction and loud voices would make it virtually impossible to concentrate. But I didn’t care. I would go home covered in plaster dust every day but I was here, and that’s what mattered.
I dropped my purse on one of the desks. “How long are the renovations going to last?” I asked, wincing over the ear splitting sounds of drills and nail guns.
“Longer than you three will be here,” she replied with a patronizing smile. “I’ve put folders on your desk detailing the history of the newspaper as well as your duties and responsibilities. There is a code of ethics as well as our work policies that you will need to read and sign off on. When you’re finished bring the paperwork to me. You’ll be assigned your jobs for the week after you bring me everything.” Diane had already started walking away, leaving us.