12 - People Who Regret

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Several minutes later, I stood perfectly still as warm water gushed out of the shower-head and pounded against my skin. It was relieving to rinse away the remnants of what happened earlier; I enjoyed feeling clean again.

When I finished, I stepped out with the towel wrapped tightly around me. I then eyed my clothes on the floor, especially my undergarments. Was I supposed to put those back on? They were much more dry now, but it didn't feel very sanitary. I inwardly cursed.

After a long moment of contemplating, I decided to call Forrest. I wasn't yet sure if I was willing to use his sister's undergarments, but I could ask him to toss my clothes into the washing machine.

Slightly opening the door, coldness instantly rushed inside. Goosebumps erupted upon my skin. "Forrest?" I looked around and waited. He didn't seem to hear me and I almost rolled my eyes. I decided to call Ivy instead. "Ivy?"

"Come on, come on," I muttered, but she didn't come either. Why? I tried again, much louder. "Ivy? Forrest? Anyone?"

Just when I was convinced nobody heard me, a door opened and out came Forrest. "Finally," I exclaimed. A mixture of confusion and amusement spread through his face right away and as he approached me, I could tell that he was fighting back a smile.

"What's up?" Forrest asked, "What do you need?"

To be frank, I was rather impressed with how he kept his eyes on my face and my face only. I had the misfortune of coming across a few crude jerks in the past, jerks who couldn't manage to keep their foul hands and even fouler remarks to themselves - and this was when I was fully dressed. Knowing Forrest had more respect than all of those guys combined was comforting.

I let out a breath and said, "Okay, I want to know if you could wash my clothes. And also, can you tell Ivy to come here?"

"Uh, sure," Forrest slowly said, "Is that all?" I nodded. Seconds later, I handed him my clothes and waited while he got Ivy. She eventually came and asked what I needed.

"All right, so," I cleared my throat, already awkward, "I know this is, like, really weird, but I was wondering if . . . you had, uh, any undergarments for me to borrow?"

Ivy raised her brows. "Oh, um, I . . . I'm not sure if mine will fit you well, but let me check. I'll be right back."

While she was gone, I decided to examine myself in the mirror. Immediately, I marked the sight as utterly cringe-worthy. My hair was dripping wet and wildly knotted. My eyes looked tired; my lips lacked color. Acne graced my pasty skin. Just by a glance, I came off as an unappealing mess. After nineteen years, I should have been used to my poor features, but I wasn't. Disgruntled, I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to make it more presentable.

About ten minutes passed before I heard a knock. "June?" I opened the door, revealing Ivy. In her hands were red boy-shorts and a white sports-bra. "Hey," she offered a small smile, "So these might be a little tight, but I just bought the underwear a couple of weeks ago. Luckily for you, I haven't worn it yet. Uh, feel free to keep it," she let out a strained laugh, "As for the bra, don't worry about it. So yeah, here you go."

I voiced my appreciation and got a hold of them. As I put them on, I learned that Ivy was right - they were a little tight. So were the clothes. The yellow shirt put emphasis on my bulging stomach and thick arms. Luckily, I still had Forrest's hoodie so I decided to slip into it again.

When I was done dressing up, I finally left the bathroom and walked towards Ivy's room. In the back of my mind, I wondered where Forrest was.

"Hey," I greeted her once I entered the bedroom. Ivy was on her phone, typing something. "Uh, can I just say that I'm sorry for troubling you? Because I am."

She glanced up and exclaimed, "No! You're no trouble! I don't mind lending you some of my clothes." I was about to press on, but she said, "Anyway, do you want to borrow some of my makeup or my hairdryer?"

I declined the offer. "No, it's all right . . . and I'll just let my hair dry on its own."

She nodded. "Okay, but just remember that it's totally fine. Don't feel bad or anything."

A second later, the door opened. My eyes landed on Forrest, who raised his brows at me. "Hey June, ah, are you ready or . . ."

"Um, yeah," I turned back to Ivy and returned the smile she was giving me. "Bye, Ivy, and thanks for everything. It was great meeting you."

"It was great meeting you, too!" Her face lit up. "Come back soon! So that we can talk more about how aggravating my brother is."

I laughed, noticing Forrest's frown. "Of course," I played along. With that being said, I left the room and Forrest shut the door. "So," I said, "where are we going now?"

"Hmm, now - why should I tell you?" he asked as he walked towards the end of the hallway. I followed him, tempted to roll my eyes.

"Come on," I urged, "And don't you dare say it's a surprise." I hated when people did that. I didn't have anything against surprises; I just didn't appreciate it when a - completely answerable - question wasn't being answered.

"Don't worry," Forrest said reassuringly, "Just let me take you there. It won't hurt to wait and see."

"Fine." I decided not to insist. "By the way," we reached his car, "your sister is just adorable."

"Yeah?" After settling inside, Forrest started the engine and said, "Well, she seems to be growing up pretty fast these days . . . I remember when she used to be so small that her height only went up to my elbows." Even without looking at him, I could tell that he was smiling. "But now, she's just . . . changing, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. It's called aging," I pointed out, "and that's how life works. Time goes by and you're never the same."

Forrest mulled over what I said. "That's true," he slowly let out, "I don't know. It's just weird to look at her sometimes." He cleared his throat, focusing on the road. As he drove out of his street, I wondered when - or if - I would be coming back. I hoped I would be. "Anyway," Forrest brought up a new topic, "I've been thinking and I've realized that there are some things I don't know about you. Some pretty important things. So I've come up with a few questions - if you don't mind."

I considered what he was saying. "It depends on what you want to know."

"Well, let me get a hard one out of the way," he paused, "Do you like dogs?"

I furrowed my brows, wondering if I heard him correctly. "What?"

"Do you like dogs?" he repeated. "Are you a dog person?"

"Uh, yes. I love dogs." My answer came out hesitantly and I eyed him, confused. Out of all the questions he could possibly have . . .

"Oh, good." Why did he sound so relieved? "Do you have one?"

"No, but I used to. His name was Arry; he was a white terrier." I cleared my throat. "He passed away years ago."

Forrest frowned. "Sorry about that," he said, sounding earnest, "I don't know what it's like to lose a dog - my mom can't stand them, unfortunately, so we've never owned one - but I'm betting it must have felt terrible."

"Yeah," I released a sigh, "but I'm sorry for you too. Never having a dog? That's just sad. I miss Arry, but I'm glad I had him in my life for a bit." Despite the heaviness I suddenly felt, my lips twisted into a small smile. "He used to be my best friend, to be honest. Really good listener, like he could understand me."

"Well, I'm sure he loved you as much as you loved him," Forrest quietly replied, "Anyway . . . next question. Uh, how do you feel about tattoos? Are you against them or anything?"

If Forrest was trying to sound random, then he was doing quite well. I stole time to think. "No," I eventually said, "I think they're very cool - unless they're stupid and pointless. I've actually always wanted to get one myself, but I'm too indecisive. What about you?"

"Same. I might get some one day - who knows? And it'll definitely be something meaningful. I know people who regret their tattoos and I don't want to end up like them." A moment came and left. "Moving on -"

"Wait, tell me, why exactly are you asking me these questions?" Did he seriously want to know what I was telling him?

I noticed Forrest smile a little. "Um, you'll understand in about ten minutes."

Pressing my lips together, I wondered what he meant by that.

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