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

“Is he working tonight?” Maysie asked and I tried not to flinch. Christ, this was almost comical if it wasn’t so damn depressing.

Damien was just a guy. Sure he was the guy I had dated for over an entire year. The guy who I had talked about marriage and a future with. A guy who I had been able to see in my life for the long haul. And now he was just a guy who had put me out like yesterday’s trash for no real reason other than, “he needed something more.”

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered her, feeling the heavy dread of my evening crash down on top of me like a three ton weight. Yep, a three ton weight of nasty, funky dread. Sounds like the makings of perfect night to me.

“Just try to ignore him, Riley. Jordan will be there. I know Jaz is working too. Try not to breathe the same gnarly air. He’s not worth it,” Maysie fumed and I appreciated her mama bear protectiveness.

I slammed my drawer shut and gathered my clothes. I didn’t bother with responding and instead headed to the bathroom. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to converse about what a dick Damien was. Stating facts didn’t seem necessary. I sure as hell didn’t need to remember how I had been completely blindsided by my former boyfriend’s inner ass**le. He sure as hell had kept that hidden.

I closed myself in the bathroom and wished I could fast forward time and be on the other side of graduation all ready.

The door pushed against my back and I stumbled forward as Maysie came inside. I arched an eyebrow at her as I reached behind the curtain to turn on the water.

“I knew you always wanted to see me naked,” I smirked, dropping my clothes on the floor and grabbing a towel off the rack.

Maysie snorted and then gave me her serious look. “I’m just worried about you, Riley. This whole depressed girl act is freaking me out a bit. I don’t know if I should be plying you with liquor or forcing you to go to church. Because I’m beginning to think you’ve been possessed.”

I sighed and opened the bathroom door. I not so nicely shoved her out into the hallway. “I’ll be fine. Aren’t I always fine? I just need more than two days to reconcile myself to the fact that the boy I thought I loved was a complete and total assface. Now please, I have to shower and get ready to face said assface at work this evening. And I don’t need to spend the next twenty minutes listing all the reasons he sucks and how I should react to seeing him. I just need to be alone, all right,” I said a bit more harshly than I meant to.

I knew Maysie meant well, but right at that moment I had very little patience for well- meaning chitchat. Though perhaps I should be a bit more receptive to her advice. Because the girl did know how to do the tragic, broken hearted thing with the best of them. Lord knows I had to sit through a mountain of it last school year during the drama otherwise known as “Jordan-gate.”

After getting out of the shower, I stood in front of the bathroom vanity and started to blow-dry my hair. I stared hard at the girl in the mirror and wondered how it all went so wrong.

Because, seriously, Damien and I had been solid. I’m not just saying that because I’m in some crazy state of denial. I know girls will whine “but things were great!” right after being dumped by their dick of a boyfriend while her friends laugh behind her back because the jerk had been boning half the campus and snorting coke off a hooker’s boobs in his free time.

But seriously, we had been solid! Better than solid. We were the perfect package. He got me. Or at least I had thought so. We had been together for over a year. And even if it wasn’t the crazy, passionate relationship Maysie had with Jordan, it was good. It was nice.

And my heart felt heavy without it.

My eyes narrowed as I took stock of my appearance. I was pretty. I could admit that. I didn’t do self-deprecation very well, among other things. I had nice, shoulder length hair that was so dark it was almost black. My eyes were a pale blue. Everything was proportionate. My nose wasn’t too big and my ears didn’t stick out. I felt pretty confident that I could check off raging case of the fuglies on the why-I-had-been-dumped-on-my-ass list.

So why hadn’t Damien been happy?

I snarled at my reflection. I was annoying the shit out of myself. Who was this girl and what happened to her self-esteem?

I was not one to question myself. I was very clear on my thoughts and opinions about things. I never deviated from course. And Damien had fit nicely into the picture I had created of my future.

So when he had come over three days ago and gave me the lame “it’s not you, it’s me” speech, I was left in recoil. I mean, who the f**k still gives that line of crap?

Yeah, I lost it. I’m ashamed to admit that when he had told me that he felt our relationship wasn’t going anywhere and that he wanted something a bit more than what we had together, my vision went a little blurry and all I saw was red.

Some not very nice words were hurtled in his general direction. I kind of threw a lamp at his head, which he dodged, by the way.

And then I cried. Oh hell had I cried. We’re talking snot all over yourself cried. And you know what my f**k nugget of an ex did? He patted my back and said, “There, there. It’ll be fine.”

I will repeat…WHAT. THE. FUCK?

I spent a good thirty minutes ugly crying all over his shirt and then he got up, said he had to go and left. I had been able to pull together what small semblance of pride I had left and didn’t run after him and beg him to stay. So that was something.

So, yeah, I’ve been in mourning. Not just for a year of my life wasted. But also the death of my dignity. Because it was currently taking a long vacation with my self-respect. And I’m pretty sure my confidence and backbone had stashed away in their luggage.

I hadn’t been back to work since the break-up. I had called in sick yesterday and I knew Moore, the general manager, would expect a doctor’s note tattooed to my forehead if I tried to flake on my shift tonight. And of course, he who shall not be named would be working. Because we had purposefully coordinated our work schedules so that our shifts fell on the same night.

I really wish I could smash my former blissful ignorance in the face.

I was lacing up my black sneakers when Maysie came into my bedroom again. Girl really couldn’t take a hint that I didn’t feel like talking.

“You want me to do your hair or something? Nothing gets back an ex like looking fabulous,” she suggested, holding up her hairbrush. I rubbed my temples, feeling the throb of a headache coming on.