The Rules of Regret

by Megan Squires

  “I know who he is,” I said, gripping Torin’s arms as he scooted us to the edge of the platform. My toes hung precariously over the wooden plank.

  “I think if you look at this experience in that light, you’ll leave with more than just $600 in your pocket after you’ve put in your six weeks.” Torin tugged me closer to him and hiked one leg around my waist, readying to push off with his other. All the blood rushed away from my brain and left me lightheaded and disoriented, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the fact that I’d soon be sailing to my possible death, or the reality that this guy’s warm body was pressed so closely to mine.

  “I don’t know if I want more than these six weeks,” I whispered, pulling a long breath through my nostrils. I was sure he heard me, but if he did, he ignored it as we slid off the platform and sped down the length of the wire, the fringe of the forest whirling past at dizzying speed until our feet met the ground below after just a few seconds of free-fall.

  I pressed up on trembling legs, and when Torin’s arms stayed wrapped across my body, even after he unclipped the hooks from the rope overhead, I knew without a doubt that all I wanted was for this experience to be that means to an end. I didn’t need more family members—between my own and Lance’s, I had an abundance already. I had enough blaring TV stations to have my own cable company.

  And I honestly didn’t even need any more friends. All I truly needed was the money. Even if it wasn’t one for Torin, this whole experience really was just a way for me to get from point A to point B.

  Unfortunately, it might be a bit easier to make the journey had I been assigned a different partner.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The blare of the bugle jolted me out of slumber and my body reacted instantly, popping up vertically at the startling sound of the wakeup-call horn. As things would have it, the reality that I’d tucked myself into a bunk bed last night took a moment to make itself known, and when it did, it was in the form of warm blood spilling down my forehead. I reached up toward my hairline and felt the thick gash resulting from the contact with the metal bed frame hovering overhead. Crap. That was going to leave a mark.

  I found some Kleenex in the adjoining bathroom and held it to my head as I dressed and got ready, but the blood quickly seeped through the folded over sheets, staining my hands. Though I hated to admit it, this was going to need some medical attention.

  There was a map on the inside of the door and I located the medical quarters on it. From the looks of it, I figured it was just next to the Rec Hall. I knew where that was, probably the only place I actually could find my way to. Slipping out of my pajamas and into cut-off jean shorts and a light green t-shirt, I started to make my way that direction.

  It was another cool June day and I wondered if this temperature wasn’t actually unseasonable, but just how it was in the woods. It sort of felt like home, how the peninsula always stayed chilled despite the rest of California’s tepid temperatures. But it was about the only part of this whole camp thing that reminded me of home, and even that was a significant stretch.

  When I got to the medical room the door was already propped open with a brick and I could hear hushed voices on the other side. They were talking about test results and counting out months until the holidays, and I didn’t want to interrupt them because it felt a little like intruding. But the blood that tinged the handkerchief pressed to my forehead didn’t leave me much of an option. I rapped on the door with my knuckles, hating that I had to break into their conversation all because I was a clumsy mess.

  “Come on in,” a friendly voice answered as loud footsteps echoed across the ground. The door stretched open more and Ran stood on the other side. Maggie sat on some type of medical bed, her legs swinging over the edge. When she saw me, she rushed over to stand behind Ran’s shoulder.

  “Darby?” Ran asked, pulling the cloth from my forehead. His piercing blue eyes examined the slice at my hairline, but I was totally distracted by his mouth. His lips were perfect, almost unreal. I thought for a moment how unfair it was that they hired such an attractive medic because I was already beginning to feel dizzy at the sight of the blood trickling down my face. Having someone that looked like Ran as the medical staffer just exacerbated that spinning sensation. It was unfair on all kinds of levels, like I was a glutton for punishment.

  “What did you do?” He lowered his eyes to mine.

  “Sat up too quickly. Hit my head on the bunk.” My pulse began to throb under the injury and the headache that formed accompanied its rhythm.

  “You had a tetanus shot recently?” Ran asked as Maggie took my hand to walk me to the cot that she was sitting on earlier. I lifted myself up onto it and Ran grabbed a bottle and some gauze from a shelf lined with medicine at the far wall.

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “I think last year.”

  Ran tilted the bottle upside-down as he paced back toward me, hiking a leg up onto the bed. “Good,” he said, then hesitated as he drew the gauze up to my face. That hesitation could only mean one thing. “This might sting a little.”

  I grit my teeth rather than bite my lip, and was glad I chose that option because it stung much more than just a little, and I probably would have gnawed completely through my lip had my teeth been pressed into it. It felt like a branding iron pushed against my scalp, the burning sensation affecting at least three layers of skin, I was sure. I sucked in a searing breath and counted to ten as I closed my eyes to endure the sudden pain.

  “Sorry,” Ran said as he tore open a butterfly bandage. Maggie’s face held an empathetic grimace as he pressed the sticky side to my forehead, rubbing his thumb against it. It reminded me of Sonja’s ability to naturally show sympathy and instantly filled me with the slight nausea of homesickness. “You lucked out—don’t need stitches. But this will probably scar. Since it’s so close to your hairline, it really won’t be noticeable.”

  “What’s going on?”

  My stomach and body jumped at the unexpected sound of Torin’s voice. He stood in the doorway at the back of the room and had close to a dozen backpacks looped across both of his arms, the slight sheen of sweat coating his brow, his cheeks reddened with exertion. When he saw me, he dropped everything to the ground and hurried over to my bedside, like maybe he was actually a little worried about whatever it was that brought me to the medical office. At least that’s what it felt like. At least that’s what I hoped it was. “What did you do, Darby?”

  I jumped again. Why was I so jumpy?

  “I hit my head,” I groaned, which was quite appropriate to do because it really did hurt like hell. “On the bunk beds.”

  “Ahhh.” Torin nodded like wasn’t the first time he’d heard this. “Well,” he said, thumbing his chin in a small circular motion. He cocked his head just slightly to the right. “This makes you look kinda hard-core. I was gonna suggest some ink like Tara’s, but you can hold your own with a gash like that.”

  “How do you know I’m not covered in tats already?”

  “I don’t see any,” he said, squinting an eye and scanning me up and down. His eyes hung a little too long below my collarbone where I, of course, wouldn’t have any tattoos, so it was glaringly obvious he was using it as an excuse to check out my nearly nonexistent rack.

  “Maybe they’re all covered up,” I suggested, for whatever reason I wasn’t sure. “Maybe I have more ink than the Bic Pen factory coating this freckly skin of mine.”

  Torin laughed unrestrictedly. “Well if that’s the case, I’d love to see it. Go for it, strip down and show us this masterpiece you boast of.”

  I ignored Torin. Ran chuckled quietly, slipping my hair behind my ear to pull it away from my forehead. “Come back in tonight, and I’ll get a clean bandage on this for you.”

  “No can do. Tonight’s the overnighter. If she needs a bandage, she’ll have to take it with her.”

  Ran flipped around to face Torin. They were eye level, and even though they looked nothing alike—Ran with his dark hair and Torin with his
dirty blond—they both were equally attractive and I couldn’t decide who was better looking. There was something classic, yet equally bad-boy about Ran, and despite Torin’s overly casual demeanor and mildly unkempt appearance, they were both intriguing in their own right.

  I sat there for a few minutes rating them. Ran had a perfect mouth but Torin had those irresistible dimples. They were both built—Ran probably more so with Torin just a bit on the leaner side. Ran had a strong jaw, but Torin’s permanently rosy cheeks won out over that. I shook my head and scolded the irrational thoughts away. I shouldn’t be concerned about the looks of other guys, much less about judging who was hotter like they were competing in some pageant they don’t even know about. How hard had I hit my head?

  “Overnighter?” was all I managed to squeak out through the mess of hormone-laced thoughts running laps through my brain.

  “Yeah.” Torin motioned toward the ground littered with backpacks. “Tonight is our survival run-through.”

  “That’s what the backpacks are for?”

  “Yep. I came in here to stock them.” Torin stood at the wall with the rows of bottles and bandages and gathered an armful of supplies. “But Maggie and Ran will stay back. We need to have a medic on the grounds at all times, and everyone that goes out for the overnighter needs a partner.”

  “I’m fine hanging back,” Maggie said, exchanging a look with Ran. I wondered if they wanted company. If being the third wheel got me out of a night alone in the forest with Torin, I’d happily volunteer for that tricycle position.

  “I can stay back if we need more people at camp,” I said, pressing my palm to my forehead. The bandage was doing a good job of keeping it from opening and the sting from earlier was now completely gone.

  “Nah Darby, you’re with me.” Torin unzipped the backpacks and slipped medical supplies into them. From what I could see, he placed a few Band-Aids, an ace wrap, and some packets of gauze into each.

  I nodded my head, figuring I wouldn’t get out of it that easily, but it was worth a shot.

  “Would you mind helping me carry these to the Rec Hall?” Torin looked up at me under a lock of hair. He flicked his head to sweep it back instead of using his hands, which would have been more effective. I never quite understood the use of the neck to do things the fingers were meant for. Like calling a waiter over or requesting the check or waving at a friend. A head nod seemed like weird stand in for jobs that were created for fingers. “We need to pass them out to the other counselors.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I hopped off the cot and draped several packs across my arms just like Torin had them arranged when he walked into the room.

  I found it hard to believe that whatever I needed to survive a night in the woods was contained inside these bags. I was pretty sure I would need a U-Haul full of equipment. In reality, that might not even be enough. I think I was totally semi-truck status.

  In fact, I found it hard to believe there was anything that might help me survive this summer at all.

  ***

  “Watch out!” Torin yanked me by the wrist, pulling me back onto the path before my leg brushed against the feathering plants lining it. I jerked to the side with his sudden movement and narrowly missed the patch of greenery he pointed to. “Poison oak.”

  “Seriously?” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not cut out for this.”

  This phrase had become my mantra over the past two days, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time it fell from my lips. Torin had suggested tattoos earlier—this would be a great one for me, “I’m Not Cut Out for This” tattooed in thick, black Old English across my back, shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

  I continued trailing him and I felt the ghost of an itch creep up my bare leg and hoped it was just a figment of my imagination. Most of my irrational fears usually were.

  “You might not be cut out for it, but I am. You’re lucky you were paired with me.” Torin pushed the hair off his brow with his hands this time and smirked, one dimple piercing his cheek. “Must be the whole Irish thing.”

  “You kinda point out I’m Irish a lot.” I paused, planting my hands on my hips, my palms dripping sweat. It was considerably warmer now and hiking only added to the heat.

  “Because that’s really all I know about you.” Torin stayed up ahead of me a few paces and didn’t turn to look at me as he spoke. The leaves crunched under his shoes and the sounds of the forest were quiet and hushed, except for our occasional conversation and the popping echo of our feet along the path. “That and you have a boyfriend you’ve been with for six years. And you’re a little crazy, like to use profanities, and are slightly immature.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like there’s much more to know.” I shifted the straps on the backpack and sweat slithered down my spine. It pooled at the waistline of my jean shorts, dampening them, making me just uncomfortable enough that I wished I’d brought a spare to change into.

  Torin gave me a soft, thoughtful look and I realized my last statement made me appear really depressing, which I never liked feeling. Before I could come up with something to make me a little less pathetic, he said, almost as a consolation, “Let’s rest when we get to the top of that ridge.” He lifted his head up the path to a clearing at the crest of the hill and drew his hand across his forehead and said, “You’re not just some half that makes a whole, Darby. I’m pretty sure even if you’re in a relationship, you still have an identity, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged, but didn’t really believe my own words. “What about you? You have a girlfriend?”

  “Nah. Haven’t for a few summers now. I used to hook up with a different counselor each year, but that got old quick. Everyone continues on with their lives after they get down from the hill. But I’m still up here.” I didn’t think he meant to, but a sigh slipped in between his words. “It’s kinda lame to be the one left behind.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  I found myself frustrated with Lance for leaving me here, for leaving me behind. For taking my life with him and leaving just the shell of me in its place. After I got past that feeling, I moved onto the one that made me feel like a complete idiot for being so torn up about a guy leaving for six weeks. A guy that had cheated close to that many times, and one that I’d forgiven an equal amount.

  And this was just six weeks. I wallowed in how depressing that was for several minutes until Torin motioned toward a large granite rock. I sat down and slipped my arms out of the backpack straps as I took up residence on the boulder. Settling the pack down next to me, I drew out my water bottle from the side pouch.

  “It must be nice to have that sort of commitment to someone. My longest relationship was six weeks. Can’t imagine six years.”

  “Six weeks is a long time,” I suggested, because to me, right now, it felt like an incomprehensible, infinite number. I took a swig from the container and swished it around in my mouth, the cool liquid swimming over my tongue. “And really, I just don’t know any different.”

  “Is that because you want it that way?” Torin unscrewed the cap to his army green canteen, tilted his head back slightly, and poured a bit over his head. The water beaded in his dark blond hair and slipped down the strands onto the back of his tanned neck. He shook his head like a dog after a bath. I looked away, because something about watching him made my stomach feel like I was about to sail down the zip line again.

  “Yeah, I guess. I like commitment. I like feeling safe.”

  “Is that why you’re an architectural design major?” Torin tossed his water bottle back into the bag and pulled out a slightly bruised, red apple. He bit loudly into it, then talked around the pieces still trapped in his mouth, like manners were something that only belonged at tables with cloth napkins and silverware, not out in the wilderness when sitting on a slab of granite with a girl you hardly knew. “Because you like structure? Things to be concrete.”

  “I don’t like actual structures and concrete, if that’s what you mean.” I smiled and fi
shed through my bag, looking for some sort of snack but nothing sounded good, despite the rumble growing in my stomach.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Torin said, rolling his eyes in a deliberate motion. “Obviously.”

  “Really? Was it that obvious? Because it sounded like that’s what you might have meant.” Torin made it way too easy to tease.

  “I’m not some ignorant, backwoods kid, you know.” He laughed, finished eating his apple in corn on the cob-like fashion, and chucked the remaining core at a nearby tree. It ricocheted off of the bark-crusted trunk and wobbled onto the ground before it settled into place.

  “I wasn’t implying you were.” Well, maybe a little. I honestly didn’t know his story, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Point A to point B. No detours. And definitely no picking up stray hitchhikers along the way, no matter how cute or endearing they might appear.

  “I just figured with a mind like that, you like things that have reason and purpose. Right brain thinker and all.”

  The rock we sat on sloped at an angle that allowed for us to lean on it like it was a bed, so Torin did just that, propping his arms up behind his head as a literal man-made pillow. The sun bathed his face and he closed his eyes, soaking up the warmth on his tan skin. I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t help it, considering he was the only breathing thing within a five-mile radius, and considering how good he looked with the light falling across him this way. His cheeks were even more flushed than normal, and I assumed the effort from the hike drew the extra pink to his face.

  “You’re right,” I answered, but just enough time had passed that my reply felt disjointed from his earlier statement. “I do like routine. Reason. Purpose. That’s why this honestly really scares me, Torin.” I played with the end of my braid, the auburn streaks glistening under the summer light as I coiled it around my fingers.