Interim(15)

She could tell he immediately regretted the words. His face battled anger at his impulsiveness and shame over her obvious shock. They stood awkwardly, shuffling their feet and biting their lips in silence. Only when the girl behind the counter approached them once more did Brandon speak up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but not to Regan. He addressed the girl.

She furrowed her brows.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. You were only waiting for our order.”

She shrugged.

“I’m not an *. I just . . . have some insecurities. Not that I’m making excuses for how I talked to you. I shouldn’t have been rude like that.”

“I used to be really overweight, too,” the girl said softly. “You drop the pounds, change your physical appearance. That’s all good. But it’s much harder to get rid of all that crap in your head. Fears about going back. Feelings that you’re still not good enough. I get it. I understand.”

Brandon smiled. “It shouldn’t be so hard to get a scoop of ice cream.”

The girl chuckled. “I guess it shouldn’t. But for us it’s different.”

“Why the hell do you work in a place like this?” Brandon asked. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

She laughed hard. “Practice in willpower.” She waved her hand over the tubs of ice cream. “Believe me. I wouldn’t touch this shit.”

“I know. It’s awful,” Brandon said. He pressed his nose to the glass. “I’ll take a scoop of butter pecan.”

“No measuring cup?” the girl asked playfully.

Brandon rubbed his stomach. “Not unless you think I need one,” he said, winking at her.

Are they flirting? Regan wondered. I mean. I get the whole bonding over similar struggles thing, but are you freaking kidding me right now?

She almost forgave his outburst as she observed his contrite behavior, listened to his contrite words. But the longer he spoke to the girl, the less chivalrous-sounding he became.

She gave no thought to her own order. She enjoyed none of it as she ate. She vaguely remembered an apology. She was preoccupied, thinking of an uncertain boy trying to make jokes about his painful past to coax a laugh out of her.

***

“So this is still happening,” Casey said, sweeping her eyes over Regan’s clothes.

“Uh huh. You like my rainbow hair extension?”

The girls strolled the hallway to third period History.

“Does your mom know you have rave wear? Because I’m pretty sure she’ll lock you in your room until you graduate if she finds out.”

Regan giggled. “It’s not rave wear. It’s one extension.”

“Uh huh. And what’s going on with that?”

“I don’t know. I thought it’d be fun.”

“No, no, I mean this entire thing you’re doing?” Casey clarified. She swept her hands in large, dramatic circles from Regan’s head to her toes.

“Oh, I thought I’d try something old-new,” Regan said.

“Old-new?”

“Yeah. Old hyphen new. I used to dress like this. Then I stopped. Now I’m dressing like this again. Old-new.”

“Okaaaay.”

Regan bit her lip. There was nothing more annoying than when Casey drew out the word ‘okay.’ She did it when she wanted to suggest something was weird, or she didn’t believe what she heard, or she had a straight-up attitude about something.

“You didn’t call last night like you said you would,” Casey said.

“I forgot.”

“Okaaaay.”

“I seriously just forgot, Case,” Regan said. “And anyway, you could have called me.”

“I did. Several times,” Casey pointed out. “You didn’t answer.”

“Well, I guess my phone died or something,” Regan said dismissively.

“Or maybe you were just ignoring me again,” Casey huffed. “Sometimes I think you like being disconnected.”

“From you? Never,” Regan replied sweetly.

Casey nudged her and giggled. “Seriously, though. I wanted to finalize plans this weekend.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Yeah, I know. But it takes me at least three days to get my outfit in order,” Casey said, scratching the back of her blond head.

“I don’t remember any plans,” Regan replied. “And anyway, I promised Caroline I’d take her and her friends bowling.”