Interim

But he was right. She did care. She cared very much. And not even a return to her style roots could clothe the embarrassment she felt at being a spineless girlfriend to a bully.

 

“You don’t have to care,” Jeremy replied. “But I wanted you to know that I’m genuinely sorry. You’re right: I am the good guy here. I should be acting like it.”

 

His words did nothing but fuel her anger.

 

“I don’t care about your fucking journal,” she spat. “I know that’s why you really came here. I’m not saying anything about it. You hear? I don’t give a shit. I have my own problems.”

 

“I came here to apologize,” Jeremy said.

 

Regan jumped up. “I don’t need your apology! I don’t care about it! You don’t know anything about me! How about this: I’m a virgin, asshole!”

 

She grabbed her bag and stormed off. Jeremy followed.

 

“Regan, I’m sorry,” he said.

 

“Save it.”

 

He jumped in front of her, forcing her to a halt.

 

“Please, let me by,” she said.

 

She was a ticking time bomb. He knew it. Somehow he had to abate the anger, manipulate a friendship even if it wasn’t genuine. He knew that now. He had no choice. They had to be friends or else she’d destroy his life. And he had to do a better job with his words. He couldn’t say offensive shit anymore. Think, Jeremy, think!

 

“I’m a virgin, too,” he blurted. Came out of nowhere. What the fuck?

 

She stared at him.

 

“In case you were wondering . . .”

 

“I wasn’t.” But she was clearly flattered by his admission. She tucked her chin, partially obscuring the smile.

 

He took a deep breath. He didn’t know what else to say.

 

“Why would you volunteer any more information to me? You know, since you’re mad I know your secrets,” Regan asked, still hiding her face.

 

He searched for a reply. “Well, what’s one more?”

 

She wasn’t expecting such a dismissive response.

 

“Sooo . . . we’re just a couple of virgins,” she said, kicking around a pinecone.

 

“Evidently.”

 

“Sooo . . . where do we go from there?”

 

“What are you asking me, Regan?” His tone was playful. He didn’t know he had it in him, and the flirtatious question both shocked and delighted him.

 

“No! I wasn’t . . . it wasn’t . . . I didn’t mean to suggest . . . !” She headed for the sidewalk. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God . . .”

 

Jeremy picked up his pace to catch up.

 

“I was just joking,” he said, laughing.

 

It felt strange to laugh. It felt strange to flirt with no ulterior motive. He should have been in manipulation mode, but the joke was genuine.

 

She smiled up at him. A pang of nostalgia gripped his heart as he watched her lips part, revealing perfectly straight teeth. He rather missed her braces, or perhaps it was the girl behind those metal brackets his heart longed for. He couldn’t help it. He had to ask. But she beat him to it.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

 

“You do?”

 

“You’re wondering why I changed. You’re wondering why I’m dating Brandon.”

 

Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“He wasn’t always mean,” Regan said.

 

Yes, he was.

 

“I mean, he seemed to change in ninth grade.”

 

No, he didn’t.

 

“He really showed a lot of interest in me, and . . . I don’t know. It felt good.”

 

He manipulated you.

 

Regan sighed. “Okay, truth time. I got so sick and tired of being the champion for all the dorks,” Regan admitted. “You know?”

 

Gee, thanks.

 

“I don’t say ‘dork’ in a mean-spirited way.” She waved her hand and added dismissively, “You know what I mean.”

 

Uh, riiiiight.

 

“It was easier to just—” She really didn’t want to say the word. “—conform.”

 

And you did a hell of a job.

 

“I know you think I’m pathetic,” she said.

 

A little.

 

“Say something!” she cried.

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. You already read my journal.”

 

She wasn’t sure if it was another joke, and waited for his cue.

 

“You can laugh,” he said.

 

“Oh, ha ha.” And then the “ha’s” turned into real giggles. And then those giggles turned into hearty laughter. For whatever reason, it felt good knowing he saw her as a gutless follower. Lessened the guilt.

 

He waited until she composed herself. He didn’t think it was all that funny, but he imagined she wasn’t only laughing at his joke. Perhaps she was laughing at him—having recalled something he wrote in his journal that sounded silly and stupid. He grew self-conscious.

 

“I better get to work,” he mumbled.

 

She swallowed. “Where do you work?”

 

“At a garage.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Fixing cars. I’m apprenticing.”

 

She nodded. “That’s cool.”

 

He said nothing.

 

“Which one?”

 

He hesitated. “Roy’s Body Shop.”

 

“Ohhh, I know that place. My dad had some work done there on his car,” Regan replied. “That’s, like, right around the corner.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Maybe I’ll stop by some time,” she offered.

 

When he didn’t answer, she grew embarrassed.

 

“Um, I work at a bakery. During the off season,” she said.

 

He nodded.

 

“I mostly decorate cakes,” she went on.

 

He continued nodding.

 

She fell silent.

 

I don’t know how to do this, he thought. I don’t know how to be her friend.

 

He has zero interest in being friends, she thought.

 

The words stuck in his throat, and he cleared it to clear them.

 

“You can come by whenever. The garage, I mean.”

 

Her face brightened.

 

“If you bring cake,” he added, and forced a smile.

 

“I can do that.”

 

“I . . . I hope this means you forgive me,” he said softly.

 

“I do,” she replied immediately. “Guys are always saying stupid stuff. I understand that.”

 

He chuckled. “I suppose so.”

 

“Well, now you can’t complain about knowing none of my secrets,” Regan offered.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I dropped, like, the biggest one on you!” she said. “Hello?”

 

“Ohhh, right, right,” he replied. “But then I gave you another one, too, so you’re still O for, um, about a thousand,” Jeremy explained.

 

Regan bit her lip. “Hmm, I guess you’re right.”

 

What could she share with him? Oh, a million things, easily. What would he want to hear right now? She instantly knew.

 

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