No_Regrets_-_Angel_Lawson.pdf

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No Regrets
Chapter One
Mint chocolate chip is the bane of my existence. Tiny spoons are the devil, and contrary to popular
belief, ice cream doesn’t make everything better.
“This sucks,” I mutter under my breath.
“Excuse me?”
I glance up at the woman standing on the other side of the glass case. “Nothing,” I say, flashing a
half-hearted smile.
It’s the best I can do since it’s Friday night and I’m wearing a pink and brown outfit. I’ve spent the
last six hours shilling ice cream treats to a line snaking out the door and around the corner of the shopping
complex. With the back of my hand, I brush my bangs out of my eyes and peek at the clock. We’ve got
four minutes until closing. I nod at my coworker and she pushes past the people to lock the door, cutting
the line.
“Sorry,” she says, locking the door with a click.
We get through the string of customers, when again, I’m reminded that mint chocolate chip was
created by demons, because Josh and Tricia are the final customers, and I already know that’s what he
wants. Free, of course. A milkshake, too, which is like five scoops and makes my wrist ache like a ninety-
year-old woman. I turn to my co-worker, Colleen, and offer, “I’ll give you a dollar if you’ll take the next
order.”
She looks over the counter at Josh. He gives her a friendly smile and a cheesy wink. “Hi, Colleen,”
he says.
She steps back from the glass case. “No way. He’s your boyfriend; you break your own wrist.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say. Josh is handsome and funny. He’s a good friend. He’s also very,
very gay. Realizing Colleen is a lost cause, I face him and pout. “Come on! Please don’t make me,” I beg.
The mint chocolate chip is the hardest of all the ice creams, and after a full Friday night, one more scoop
just may break me.
“If you make it for me I’ll tell you something exciting.”
“You buying new jeans doesn’t qualify as exciting.”
He twists so I can see the back. He does look good in those jeans. And the tight sweater. “They do
look great, right? But that’s not what I’m talking about. Promise.”
Holding a silver scoop, I rest my hand on the top of the case. “Fine. What is it?”
“Milkshake first.”
I glare at him. “I hate you.”
“You wish.”
I exaggerate the pain and work that goes into making his milkshake, leaving Colleen to help Tricia.
I’m not supposed to give out free stuff and if my jerk boss, Mark, comes in, I’m screwed. He already
warned me once. I mean, what’s the point of working in an ice cream parlor for minimum wage if you
can’t give your friends free treats?
“Here,” I say, handing the cup over. “Tell me now and then leave. Mark will be back any minute.”
Josh sips his milkshake and leaned towards me and whispers, “I think I have a job opportunity for
you.”
“You’re kidding,” I say, a little loud. I don’t care. I need out of this place immediately and have
desperately been searching for something else for weeks. I hate it here. I only took the job because I was
new in town and happened to hear about the position from a classmate.
“Nope.”
“I’ll take it.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” he laughs.
“I don’t care. I hate this place. And the people that work here.” Colleen shoots me a dirty look but I
don’t care. “And my boss and how he makes us practice forming the perfect ice cream scoop and
weighing it on the stupid scale. And the mint chocolate chip hurts my arm and at night I have nightmares
about the endless lines of customers where the scooping just never stops.”
Tricia licks her ice cream cone and shakes her head at me. Whatever. Her parents give her
spending money. Mine don’t. I have no choice but to work. Josh hands me a slip of paper out of his pocket
with the name Cindy across the top and a phone number. “Call her tomorrow. “
I fight the urge to squeal jump up and down, mostly because I’m not one of those girls that squeals
and jumps up and down. “Thank you, Josh, I’ll owe you forever.”
He’s not impressed because I already owe him by giving me a place to stay when I transferred
schools. He and Tricia have both been an awesome support system, which was critical, because moving
sophomore year could have been disastrous.
He takes a slurp of his milkshake and nods. “I know. Forever.”
Before they leave the shop, he winks at Colleen again, whose face turns purple. Tricia and I laugh
at her embarrassment over our too-hot for himself roommate but I stop short. My boss stands in the
doorway. My tiny, trollish, hates me, boss.
Mark sees the milkshake and Josh bolts out the door. He knows the shit is going to hit the fan.
“Did he pay for that?” he asks.
“Um,” I look to Colleen for help but she’s busy washing dishes in the sink. “It was extra from
someone who just ordered one. I made too much, by accident.”
“Zadie, I’ve talked to you about this. No freebies for friends—or boyfriends.”
I stare at him hard and think about kicking him in his tiny shins. “It won’t happen again,” I mutter.
“No, it won’t. That’s your final warning.” His beady eyes glimmer from the stainless steel ice
cream case. “For punishment, you’ll have to come in early tomorrow and clean out the soda machine.”
“What?”
“Nine AM.”
I untie my ice cream-splattered, vomit-pink apron and toss it on the counter. “Forget it. I’m done
with you being such an overbearing ass.”
“What did you say?” Mark is twenty-five and thinks he’s king of the world. Because he manages an
ice cream parlor. That’s what I’m dealing with here.
“I quit, and,” I dig in my pocket and pull out three dollars. My last three dollars. “This is for the
milkshake.”
“You can’t quit. You’re on tomorrow!”
“Sorry. Not anymore.” I walk past him to the front door—refusing to go out the back like he
prefers.
One glance back and I see the dumbfounded look on Mark’s face as he tries to figure out what just
happened. Colleen just looks sad to be left alone with him, so I give her a thumbs up and walk out the
door, pretending there’s not only twenty-seven dollars and eighteen cents in my checking account.
Whatever Josh has lined up for me it better happen. Otherwise, I’m screwed.
*
After washing the ice cream off my hands and badgering Josh for more information, I call Cindy.
She asks me to come in for an interview at the local community center. Apparently Josh’s ‘in’ was with
the manager of the indoor pool. Year-round work lifeguarding. He knows I’m certified from last summer
when I worked as a camp counselor. The pool pays way more than my barely-minimum wage at the ice
cream shop.
I hand Cindy my credentials and fill out an application. I leave the ice cream parlor and Mark off
my references. No need to open that can of worms.
“So basically, you’ll need to sign up for twenty-five hours a week in shifts. It’s first come, first
served on the sign-ups. Which means if you aren’t proactive, you’ll end up with the 5 AM shift.”
“Ouch.”
“Exactly. We have a pool manager, Henry, that will oversee you and the other three guards. He gets
first dibs on the shifts since he’s in charge of scheduling.”
“Okay, sure,” I say, looking around. We’re in a tiny office off the pool deck. Basically it’s a warm,
humid warehouse with a pool inside. A skinny guy about my age lounges in the guard chair, looking bored.
“This summer there will be some more opportunities to add hours. We have summer camp, which
requires several guards at once. We also send you guys out on occasion to other events, plus we open our
outdoor facility.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be here all summer.” Some students go home over the break, but I already had
plans on staying. My parents don’t care as long as I chip in on the room and board.
“Here’s the current week’s schedule. I went ahead and signed you up to work with Tate for the first
two days so he can train you.” She pushed the sheet toward me. “You can fill in the dates and times you
want. Just make sure it adds up to 25 hours, okay?”
Since I’m new, I obviously got a couple of terrible shifts except for the two 4-9 slots I’m working
with Henry. I notice he manages to have weekends off and none of the 5 AM positions. Lucky bastard.
“Thanks for the opportunity,” I tell Cindy on my way out. I don’t know how Josh found this job, but
word of mouth is the only way to find work in a college town, so I’m not looking a gift-friend in the mouth
or anything.
“Seems like it will be a good fit,” she says. “Oh, here’s your uniform.” She hands me a T-shirt with
“Lifeguard” across the chest, a pair of red shorts and a sporty bathing suit. “There’s a book of rules and
instructions on the desk. Feel free to look it over when you come in. Henry’s a great guy. He’ll make sure
you’re prepared.”
“Can’t wait to meet him.”
Yep. No way those words would come back to bite me.
*
I recognize him the instant I step on the pool deck, even though I haven’t seen him since he
graduated from our high school three years before. Dark brown hair arranged in messy curls. A thin layer
of stubble catches my eye, highlighting his sharp, masculine jaw. We wear matching red shorts and white
T-shirts, but he looks good in his and I look like…well, like a dork.
Henry Fletcher went to my high school. He’s a year older than me and was one of those guys that
was always been too pretty for his own good, too popular, and had that air of invincibility around him at
all times. We were on the swim team together and were sort of friends. Our social circles crossed on
occasion and I had a deadly crush on him. Deadly for me because I only had eyes for him during the three
years we were in school together.
In John Hughes terms, he was Andrew McCarthy to my Molly Ringwald.
Much to my distress, he and his friends called me ‘Pip’ because I’m short and they treated me like a
kid. The nickname made me furious, just like my size, and I spent most of my school years acting bigger
than life to make up for it. Most of the time I failed, but when I decided to make myself known it tended to
go off like Hiroshima.
Kaboom.
Most of my time back then was spent with Tricia and Josh. One a geeky techno-nerd and the other a
gay guy with a penchant for hats. But during Henry’s senior year, I decided to take a shot at getting his
attention. My efforts ultimately led to complete heartbreak and embarrassment and I promised myself I’d

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