The Rules of Regret

by Megan Squires

  “This meaning camp or this meaning the overnighter?” Torin didn’t open his eyes to ask.

  “This meaning all of it. Totally out of my comfort zone here.”

  “That just goes to show how much your relationship means to you—that you’d be willing to put yourself out there just so you can save money to visit Lance.” Torin angled his face my direction, but still didn’t open his eyes and I wanted to look away because I worried if he suddenly did open them, I wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that I had been staring. That I was still staring. “It would be nice to have someone hold that much meaning in my own life.”

  “I’m sure you have something,” I said, slipping down further onto the rock. And I really wasn’t even sure Lance was the real reason I was stepping out like this either. I think my need to have a plan for my life had taken over and maybe it didn’t even really matter whom it was that I shared that plan with. Lance had been there for six years; he seemed like the obvious and logical fit.

  “I do have something, but not someone.” Torin rolled his head back the other direction, probably to even the exposure to the sun on each side of his face. His voice was fainter now that he spoke into the air away from me. “Sometimes it takes another person to take you past your self-made limitations and discover who you truly are. Sounds like Lance did that for you.”

  “So philosophical, Torin,” I teased propping my arms behind my head just like his.

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “Just something I think about.”

  I heard him shuffle around next to me, but I waited a few moments before opening my eyes. When I did, he was settled back onto the rock, but his shirt was tucked up under his head, his carved chest bare. My pulse quickened, mostly because it embarrassed me more than anything, being completely caught off-guard by him lying half-naked next to me. I tried to command my eyes shut, but I couldn’t. I was wrong in thinking he wasn’t as toned as Lance. Lance was tall and bulky with the solidity of a football player. But Torin was every bit as fit, just leaner, with his muscles more toned, stretched across his frame. I let out a breath and tried to shake the vision from my head. This altitude was impacting me more than I’d originally given it credit.

  “How did they die?” The sudden startle of his voice made me jump, my shoulders arching off the slab of stone underneath. “Your sibling... how did they die?”

  It took me by surprise because it had been silent for a few moments, and I knew he was thinking during the quiet that hung around us, but I just didn’t know about what. I hadn’t figured that was it.

  “She died unexpectedly.”

  “Isn’t it always?” he agreed, nodding his head, his eyes still closed. “My brother, too. I mean, I guess with suicide they say there should be signs, whatever that means. Like there was supposed to be some huge billboard announcing, 'Randy is going to kill himself,’ that I had completely overlooked.”

  “Yeah.” I slid my head back and shut my eyes against the glare of the sun. I could still see its glowing red outline through the sheer skin of my eyelids. “Death sucks.”

  “What did she like to do?”

  I didn’t talk about her much anymore. No one really did. But I hadn’t forgotten her. I remembered her in everything I did. In every choice I made. In every thought that traveled through my brain. I remembered her. Because if I didn’t, then who would? And what would that mean if I didn’t include her anymore? If Anna didn’t exist in my life, then she wouldn’t exist at all. I felt like I owed her at least that much, to help her keep existing, even if only as a memory.

  “She liked to draw,” I said softly, because somehow my vocal chords couldn’t push out any more sound. “She was really smart. Sarcastic and witty, funny.”

  “Was she your twin?” Torin asked, nearly interrupting. “Because she sounds an awful lot like you.”

  “No,” I laughed, thinking it was funny because I would never really use those words to describe myself. “And I’m probably the one who takes after her. She was a year older.”

  “Randy and I were nothing alike.” It felt like he was opening up to me, like we were developing some kind of camaraderie over dead siblings, however morbid that was. It honestly didn’t feel morbid. “He was always so fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants. Mom called him the impulsive one and me the thinker.”

  “You do like to think,” I agreed, because I had experienced this side of him firsthand already. “You did a pretty good job analyzing me yesterday on those ropes. Trying to figure out how to get me to take the step with your counseling wizardry.”

  “It’s not really magic, Darby. It’s just making you realize what you’re actually capable of. And I think you’re capable of much more than you think.” I heard Torin rotate to face me and when I opened my eyes, his eyes nailed into mine, the green intensity sending a wave of heat through my stomach. It forced me to swallow hard. “You keep saying you’re not good at doing things on your own, but I don’t think that’s true at all.”

  I didn’t know how much I believed him, so I opted for a subject change. “How much more will we hike?”

  “Okay, I’ll stop.” Torin shot me a dimpled grin, blinking rapidly, the eyes and the smile all working together. “Sorry—I just really like to figure out the way people work. What motivates them, what drives them. I’ll stop, though.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said, rolling onto my back. The stone felt hot against my skin, and I soaked it up the way cats do when they lay on hardwood in the strips of window light. “I just don’t think like that. Concrete and structure, remember?”

  “Right. Things you can feel, see and touch. Just like the rope.”

  “I thought we were done, Oh Analytical One.”

  “Right, sorry. I just find you sorta interesting.”

  I didn’t know why it had the effect it did, but my entire body shivered, and he’d only called me sorta interesting. Had he said I was even a little interesting, I probably would have broken out in a full-on sweat. I concentrated on the heat of the stone underneath me, but my fingers and toes tingled against my will. And I assumed the reason they were brought on had a little something to do with the fact that I felt exactly the same way about Torin. I couldn’t make heads or tails of him, and that completely piqued my interest. I liked things I couldn’t figure out because after all these years living a life of monotony, everything about me had become pretty darn predictable. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a little odd… but also equally interesting.”

  “Thank you?”

  “You’re welcome. It’s a compliment. I like a little crazy in my women.” His mouth stretched into a grin and those chills surfaced on my skin once more. Before I could shoot back the fact that I wasn’t actually his ‘woman,’ he said, “Tell me more about Lance.”

  “Like what?”

  “How does it feel to know that you’re so sure about something that you plan to spend the rest of your life doing it?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words, and I sort of snorted through my nose.

  “Wow.” Torin blushed, then corrected himself. “That came out wrong. Not doing it. Spend your life with it.”

  “It feels comfortable.”

  “I can’t imagine making one decision that would impact the entire course of my life.” He pulled himself into a sitting position, and I suddenly felt awkward that I was sprawled across the rock next to him. Though I’d felt quite awkward since I set foot at this camp. I slid up to sit, too.

  “Not a fan of the institution of marriage?” I continued to flick the end of my braid, and when I glanced Torin’s direction, he was staring at me with an intense look that caused my already-empty stomach to roll. I broke our gaze quickly.

  “No, I definitely am. My parents have been married for thirty years. I’d love to have that someday. Just can’t imagine being nineteen and being that certain of something—of someone—you know? Don't get me wrong. I want it. I’m just not sure I’ll ever find it.”

  “I think sometimes
all those little decisions make the big decisions for you.” I dropped my hands from my hair and knit them together in my lap, needing to keep them busy because they really wanted to reach across and tuck his loose hair behind his ear. And how creepy would that be? If I just stretched over and ran my fingers through his hair? Holy heck, that might be enough to justify sending me straight to the loony bin, because seriously, who does that to a practical stranger?

  I squeezed my fingers tighter together and said, “Like the last six years with Lance have been preparing me for this next step with him.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” He tugged at a piece of grass that skirted the edge of the stone and lifted it to his mouth to bite down on the end of it, then nodded thoughtfully. “I wonder what my past decisions have been preparing me for.” Torin twirled the straw back and forth between his teeth like a toothpick, the way I imagined a cowboy would in the bed of his old Ford truck. “And by the way. What you just said is the exact opposite of your whole means to an end thing.” The way he leaned toward me and cocked a brow pulled all of my air from my lungs, like his words had fingers and were capable of stealing my very own breath from me. “Just so you know.”

  “Maybe I’m not all concrete and structure after all,” I teased with too many nerves in my nearly quivering tone. I played with the same patch of grass next to us and slowly drew in the air that escaped me.

  “No, maybe there’s room for a few flowers and trees in there.” Torin jabbed at my stomach with his finger and I coiled away from his touch. “Come on.” He pushed off the rock, stretching out a hand to me. I took it hesitantly, embarrassed by the sweat that so obviously coated my palms. “We have several more miles to go before sundown. Let’s continue our journey.”

  “Okay,” I said, slinging my pack over my shoulder. I could handle continuing this journey for now. This small stepping stone.

  It was the longer journey that really worried me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You’ve got this, Darby.” Torin jogged to my side, his feet meeting the ground in alternating claps. His breathing was ragged and uneven, and he folded over and pressed his palms to his kneecaps as he caught it. “This is way thicker than those ropes yesterday.”

  I gulped down the tight ball in my throat. I wondered if he knew we would encounter this when he chose to let me lead the way. There was a fork in the road a mile or so back. I opted to go right. I swear I saw him smirk when I arbitrarily made the decision, but I thought nothing of it at the time. That smirk doesn’t feel so innocent now. I bet he knew this was on our path. He knew this forest like the back of his hand that I’d spent way too much time thinking about holding.

  “You’re not going to fall.” He jutted his chin toward the log. The branch was about a foot wide and stretched at least two yards over a river that rushed below. Cragged rocks peeked out through the deep waters, taunting me like hungry sharks breaking the surface with their gray vertical fins. “You’ve got this.”

  And I thought for a moment he could be right. If I was able to suspend a hundred feet in the air yesterday without killing myself, I could definitely do this.

  I put one foot confidently in front of the other, biting my lip as I willed myself not to look down. There was a bush decorated with tiny pink flowers just on the other side of the gulf and I zeroed in on it, forcing my focus onto the petals that popped off the greenery. Like a gymnast on a balance beam, I stepped forward without falter.

  That was, until Torin’s fingers brushed my waist. I didn’t know what he was doing and I wasn’t sure why I reacted the way I did. But any authority I had over my feet and legs was yanked from me, and I wobbled back and forth like a spinning top, teetering precariously on edge. I curled my toes to reclaim some steadiness, but the inflexibility of my tennis shoes prohibited it from doing any good. Like I was in slow motion, my right foot gave up its position and slipped off the log first, then my left, and I clawed and grabbed at the branch—flailing with my arms and legs—but I failed to get a grip and splashed into the water below, breaking the surface with a scream that was quickly sucked up by the water that poured into my open mouth.

  It was cloudy and murky and I blinked rapidly to regain my bearings, but I couldn’t tell which way was up or down. The tug of my backpack pulled me, swaying me side to side, and I fought to slip it off of my shoulders, unable to manage it free. I was disoriented and dizzied and took longer than I should to compose myself as I struggled against the backpack and the surprisingly fast current. Unfortunately, my lungs paid the price, hardening in my chest and begging for air. Just a few seconds passed before the water broke again, and just as quickly I was being jerked upward by the strap of my bag, my body trailing languidly behind. I crested the surface and dragged in the breath my body so desperately craved.

  I’m sure I looked like a drowned rat. I felt just about that good, too.

  “You okay?” Torin gulped, sliding an arm around my waist as he pulled my pack off with a free hand. From what I could tell, it didn’t take much effort for him to do it.

  I nodded, treading water. My sneakers didn’t serve well as flippers and I trembled back and forth with my legs unsteadily. “Lost my balance there.”

  “I think I had a little something to do with that.” That guilty smirk from before reappeared. “Shouldn’t have distracted you. You’re a bit jumpy today.” He glanced toward my forehead while kicking against the waves, angling toward the direction of the shoreline. I swam with him, and when I felt the rocky ground under my feet, I pushed up out of the water. My shirt clung tightly to my chest and my jean shorts sagged, sodden with the muddy liquid that dripped down my legs.

  Torin eyed me up and down, his eyes trailing over every inch of me. “We need to get you out of those,” he said, pointing a finger at my waterlogged outfit.

  “Huh?” I twisted my ponytail out like a dishrag. Water puddled around my feet and it looked like I was standing in an inch of chocolate milk. “Why?”

  “Because they will dry a lot faster off of you rather than on you.” He unzipped my backpack and rummaged through its contents like he was some TSA agent and I’d smuggled a bomb into an airport. He didn’t appear satisfied with whatever he discovered—or didn’t discover—inside the pouch and let out an irritated huff that I couldn’t help but notice. “Everything in here is soaked. You’ll have to wear your swimsuit.”

  My jaw dropped. Like came completely unhinged the way they do in cartoons. I never thought it was actually possible, but come to find out, it definitely was.

  “My swimsuit?” I forced the pack out of his hands, taking it back into my possession. “Not very practical, Torin, walking around the forest in a bikini.”

  “It’s more practical than walking around in soaking wet clothes that will freeze to your skin come sundown.” Without permission, Torin snatched the bag from my grip, grasped my swimsuit, and shoved it into my chest. “Put this on.”

  “Where?” I squeaked, reluctantly taking the red and white polka dot two-piece from his hold. Our fingers brushed and his eyes caught mine in an unsure glance.

  “I don’t know, behind a tree or something.” He continued digging through my backpack, pulling out all of my clothes and the blanket crammed inside. He took them to a nearby rock and spread them out onto its surface like he was a maid with a clothesline and a load of laundry to finish.

  “I’m not changing out here.” I wrapped my arms across my chest, humiliation spreading throughout my body. Usually people’s cheeks turned red when they were embarrassed. I was fairly certain every inch of my skin was blushing bright pink, rivaling the reddened hue of Porky the Pig.

  Torin cocked his head and thumbed his chin—something I was beginning to notice he did a lot of—and his dimples eased onto his cheeks. “You do realize this is a survival overnighter, don’t you? There are some things you need to let go of for survival’s sake. Modesty is one of those things.”

  “If I remember correctly, yesterday you pretty much promised me that you�
��d keep me alive. And I’d like to keep my modesty. I really don’t want to change into this, Torin.”

  He drug his hands through his hair and sighed my direction, sensing the sincerity in my plea. “Darby, it may currently be blazing hot out, but tonight it will get down into the 40’s. And as of right now, you have no dry clothes to sleep in and your overnight blanket is full of about ten pounds of water. You’ve run out of options.”

  I pinched my lips together. What I wouldn’t give to be lounging on the couch back at the rental with Sonja, getting fat with our beer and our Cheetos. Even the hope of visiting Lance didn’t make any of this worthwhile. I sort of wished Torin would have just let me float out there in the river a bit longer. Maybe I would have passed out and drowned. That would be slightly less humiliating than what I feared was in store for me at this summer camp.

  “At least turn around.”

  Torin looked up at me from the granite slab where he’d arranged my clothes. “What?”

  “Please turn around. No peeking.”

  He shook his head and returned his focus to his work. “I’m not gonna peek. Off limits.”

  “I'm off limits?”

  He stepped back and surveyed the spread of fabric, then moved a pair of my socks so they didn’t overlap with the t-shirt underneath. “Off limits. Taken.” His pale eyes pulled up to mine. “And even if you weren’t, you’re not really my type, Darby.”

  Insult sucker-punched me in the gut. “Geez,” I murmured, feeling the hurtful sting of his comment. “Then by all means, please stare away. Take pictures if you like.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Torin stepped back from the rock and fiddled with his belt. Before I could register what he was doing, he’d unzipped his fly and was down to his boxers, pulling one leg, then the other from his cargo shorts. My throat went dry and I tried hard to swallow, but it was all sandpaper and it scratched my tongue. Where did his pants go? And why was I staring at his underwear that was covered in hundreds of yellow smiley faces, repeated over and over in a dizzying, disorienting pattern? Seriously, why were his boxers smiling at me?