Perfect Regret (ARC)



“How long have they been playing?” I asked, wanting to get my reason for being there over with. I had been so full of resolve on my drive, now I had an icky case of the dreads. I wasn’t one to lack in confidence, but when you’re in the wrong, it did a number on your nerves.

Maysie looked at the clock before turning back to me. “I don’t know, around forty-five minutes or so. They should be having a break in the next fifteen,” she informed me, pulling up a barstool so I could sit down.

My best friend leaned into me, knocking my shoulder with hers. “Seriously though, where’s Damien? I thought you two were hanging out tonight,” Maysie asked.

“I realized I had better things to do,” was all I said and Maysie snickered.

“Told you so,” she said with a smirk.

“Oh girl, you’re asking for a slap. Don’t you dare play the I Told You So card with me. Or we can start reaching into Maysie Ardin’s bag of mistakes for a good time,” I threatened good-naturedly. Maysie stuck her tongue out at me and I laughed over my nerves.

Now that I was here, I was seriously questioning my sanity. Why in the world was I opening a can of worms I had successfully closed shut? But the look on Garrett’s face each and every time I rejected him was flashing across my brain like a neon sign.

Why had it taken a bunch of uptight jerk wads to make me realize how unfair I was being toward him? I hated how capable I was of tearing someone down. Me, the queen of the fair chance. The crusader of the lost cause could also be voted most likely to be an insensitive asshat.

I needed to say my piece and even if Garrett rightly told me to get lost, I would know that I had attempted to make things right.

I looked over at Gracie, the girl who I had considered a good friend, and knew that I needed to make peace with more than just Garrett. I hated the rift between us and wanted to get things back to the way they were. Even if some subconscious part of me knew that there was more to the freeze out than me having a party in Garrett’s pants.



“Woohoo!” Gracie yelled drunkenly once the guys had concluded the song. Maysie’s eyebrows pinched together and she gave me a concerned look. I hooked my arm around Gracie’s waist and held her up so she wouldn’t topple off the barstool.

She pushed me back and gave me a nasty look. “I don’t need your help, Riley,” she muttered and I stood there stunned. Somewhere along the way, Gracie Cook had lost her ditzy, I-love-everybody-demeanor.

“Sorry. I was just trying to help,” I said but Gracie waved me off. She seemed to pull herself together a bit and gave me a forced smile.

“I’m fine. But thanks,” she then turned her back to me and waved Lyla, the bartender down for another drink.

Maysie put her hand over Gracie’s. “I think you’ve had enough for one night, G,” she said softly. Gracie frowned and looked between Maysie and me.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied, pulling her hand out from underneath Maysie’s. “Lyla!” she yelled, making everyone within a ten-foot radius turn to look at her.

Maysie and I both crowded in behind her as though to contain the embarrassment factor. “Where did Viv go?” I asked under my breath.

Maysie’s eyes cut to me sideways. “I have no idea,” she hissed back, trying to communicate with Lyla, using a complicated mixture of facial expressions and hand gestures, to stop serving an over the limit Gracie.

Lyla caught the hint and was suddenly very busy on the other side of the bar.

“Lyla! I need another!” Gracie yelled again. Maysie put her hand on her shoulder.

“Stop it, Gracie. I think you need to take it down a notch,” she said placating.

Gracie reeled back, away from her touch and fell off the chair. Thank god the band was playing, so it masked the Gracie Cook detonation that was taking place.

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