Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret / 13

REGRET, SHAME....they go hand in hand....

It's not the best feeling when you can't even look your room mate in the eyes. Not even a little. It'd been days since Cleo saw Tucker leave my room. The crestfallen side glance of her eyes said it all. And it was more than awkward. It was devastatingly embarrassing. As if I had been the one doing the walk of shame, not him. And I was starting to feel hopeless that my usually chipper and cheery room mate would even talk to me again. But what was worse, that she would tell her cousin.

I heave a defeated sigh into my coffee. Worrying. Hating myself.

Or did. She probably did already. Gawd, I'm an asshole. And I deserve it.

Cleo clinks yet another dish into the sink scrubbing the plate like she was going to strip it of it's blue stripe pattern. It's a furious scour. One that screams of bitterness and hatred. And I suck down the jagged pill I created with a gulp of coffee dreading this new relationship between us. I stab a fork into the eggs on my plate and force myself to eat alone, quietly. But just as I think she's going to ignore me for the third morning in a row, she chucks the cleaning pad and spins around at me with alarmingly wide and wild eyes.

"So, Fi. Tell me. Do you like concerts?"

I choke on the clump of eggs in my mouth. The odd randomness of the question makes me sweat a little. Holding her gaze, I swipe the corner of my mouth with my napkin. "Um, I guess so. Why?"

She hunches a shoulder. "No reason. I just didn't know what else to say to you. I'm honestly at a loss of words at all with you. Guess it's probably still the shock I'm in that you went out to dinner with my cousin then came home and slept with a douche bag." Her eyes narrow and she taps her chin. "Yeah, that's probably it."

What eggs were in my stomach lurch upward threatening with upheaval. Guilt. Regret. Shame. Here we go. "Cleo, I really...gawd...there's no words to say...I mean...it was....the whole thing was..." I falter. Horribly. Blinking a few tears back. Wishing for the right words to fix this. "Cleo, I'm sorry. You have no idea how bad I feel. I'm an asshole."

"So why did you do it?" Her lips thin as she tilts her head in judgment at me.

"I..I..." I stammer coming up blank with any response in my defense because foolish, selfish asshole was the only thing clinging in my brain.

She shakes her head with some irritation. "I...I...what? C'mon Fi. I know we're just room mates. And I know that we're still getting to know each other, but damn girl, I deserve an answer. Because, I was pretty sure you were into my cousin. And that you definitely hated Tucker Jones. So what gives? Do you have a split personality disorder or something? "

I want to laugh, but I don't. She had every right to ask. Because I was definitely slipping up with some serious Sybil-like issues. "Look, Cleo. I am beyond sorry. And I'm really sorry that you had to see that..."

"Oh my gawd! Are you saying you feel bad you got caught?" Her sputtering rage was well deserved.

"Hell no." I raise my hands in defeat. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that I made an extremely poor choice that night. Like you have no idea how bad I feel for it. And just so you know, I do like Baz. A lot, actually. He and I had a great time and if it weren't for Tucker showing up we probably would have..."

Cleo gags. "Whoa. I'm good. No need to finish that." She half smiles briefly then slips back into narrowing her eyes. "Tucker showed up? At the restaurant?"

I nod. "And here."

"So..." Her brows pinch tightly together. "... you didn't bring him home with you then?"