Regan picked up her bags and slung them over her shoulder. She turned to face Jeremy a last time.
“I shouldn’t have wanted to go fast,” she said. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”
“It didn’t,” he replied.
“I’m not a ho,” she clarified.
“Never thought that.”
She considered him. “It’s just, I’ve done some things.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Apparently not very well,” she added.
He frowned in confusion.
“Oh, please,” she said, looking at him dead on. “Like you didn’t hear the rumors.”
“Rumors are rumors.”
“Rumors are hurtful.” She eyed him expectantly.
He knew her unspoken question.
“Don’t ask me if you’re a good kisser. I’ll be offended.”
“Why?”
“Because you kissing me has nothing to do with that guy and his stupid rumors,” Jeremy replied.
Regan nodded.
“But if you must know,” he whispered, averting his eyes, “it was fucking awesome.”
She smiled. “I . . . I really don’t move fast. I mean, it’s weird that I acted like that. I got really excited. You made me feel things I’ve never felt. Is that cheesy?”
He shook his head.
“Yes, it is,” she mumbled. “So freaking cheesy. But whatever. It’s true.”
Silence.
“When you’ve gone so many years wanting something, and then you finally get it, sometimes you don’t react appropriately. The feelings are too intense. You don’t know how to handle them. Like being in a manic state, I guess. Out of your mind. That’s how I felt when you kissed me.”
His heart warmed—heat building slowly at the base and curling its way up and around the chamber walls.
“And I wanted to feel everything at once. And give you everything. And take from you.” She paused. “And now I know why people have sex two seconds after meeting each other. If they’re insanely attracted to each other, that is.”
He laughed.
“Now multiply that times ten trillion, because I didn’t just meet you. I’ve known you forever. So the build-up . . .” Her words disappeared into the damp space of the garage.
He nodded. Girls were so much better with their words. Everything she said he felt but could never voice. He was glad she could. She could speak for the both of them.
“Ditto,” he said, then wished immediately that he could take it back.
She laughed. “You’re such a guy.”
“And you’re such a girl.” He grinned at her. “And I’m glad for it.”
Long after she left, he stood staring at his Camaro. All along he wanted it running so that he could run away. That had been the plan from Day 1. Now his motivation changed. He needed a working car to take his girl out on a date.
~
Let’s talk hypotheticals. IF I decided to nix my current plan, how do I ensure that the evil ones get what they deserve? My biggest fear is that I do nothing, allowing them the opportunity to victimize more people. I can’t have that on my conscience. Plus, I made a promise to them. I made a promise to the ones enduring the abuse now, and I made a promise to all the ones who would have endured it in the future. I can’t abandon them. That would, in essence, make me a bully. So what are my alternatives?
~
The shift happened naturally. After her breakdown at the garage and subsequent kiss, life moved effortlessly. She didn’t care about her old one. She cared about rediscovering her old-old life—the one that came before she conformed. The one that defined her as someone real, happy, and special before she lost her identity to popularity. She couldn’t regret the wasted years of high school. She wouldn’t. She chalked them up to a learning experience, tucked all the memories in her heart, and swept some of the darker ones into that forgotten corner. Soon, she really would forget.
She held hands with him at school. The reactions were over the top—obnoxious gasps and wicked whispers. The stuff that fuels gossip which, in turn, fuels mistruths.
Bring it on, she thought, allowing the defiance to register on her face as she walked the halls. She scowled at them. She smiled at him.
Took a while for the gossip to subside about her freak-out—the fact that she threatened another student’s life. Her suspension from school and soccer was becoming old news by now, but her budding romance reheated the flames. Little bonfires of students dotted the hallways, talking shit, making jokes—flames flying high at the sound of their cackles.
Jeremy tugged on his hand. She wouldn’t let go.
“It’ll die down,” she said. “And anyway, what do we care?”
“I liked being in the shadows,” he said softly.
“Lost in the shadows?” she joked.
He furrowed his brows.
“Dude, my shirt!” she said, jabbing a thumb into her chest.
He looked at her chest—didn’t need an invitation—and read “The Lost Boys” aloud.
He chuckled. “I only get it because I watched the movie with you. And you’re a dork, by the way.”
He’d never teased her like that, by calling her a name. He wasn’t sure he should, having experienced being on the receiving end of countless humiliating names over the years. He opened his mouth to apologize.
“Hey, you’re dating me. What’s that say about you?” she said, linking her arm with his.
It was a strange reality, and he rather liked it. A lot. Too much, if he were being honest, and he wondered how he could blast it all away come spring. He shook his head to rid the thought, but there he stood in the distance—an opaque future version of himself—firing the weapons that would destroy his world.
“Their world,” he mumbled insolently. “Not mine.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” Regan asked.
He looked down at his brand new, smoking hot girlfriend and smiled sheepishly. And then he shrugged.
“God, Jeremy, stop that! A shrug is not an answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not an answer either.”
“Did I say something out loud?”
“Uh, yeah. You said ‘their world, not mine.’ What are you talking about?”