Perfect Regret (Bad Rep #2)(14)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

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.