Mistakes and Regrets

"Shay, are you okay?" Kennedy whispered, his eyes veering from the road quickly. I bit my lip and attempted to give him a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmured, my knees close to my chest.

His hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel, and I knew he didn't believe me. He didn't say a word though, instead just pulled smoothly into the small parking lot. My eyes lit up as I saw the old fashioned sign hanging from the side of the building.

"This place has the best ice cream," I grinned, fumbling with my seat belt. Kennedy smiled, already walking around to open my door. I thanked him and linked my arm with his, pulling him toward the small ice cream parlor.

He shot me an annoyed look, but I knew he was willingly allowing me to drag him through the doorway. He was bigger than me, and quite frankly, I was a weakling. He loved these moments just as much as I did.

I nudged him toward the counter, trailing quickly behind. He gave a brilliant smile to the teenager at the counter, and I swear, she swooned. The kid still had it.

"We'd like a small strawberry cone and a small--"

"Large," I interrupted.

"Large mint chocolate chip cone--"

"Waffle cone," I corrected.

Kennedy paused, his eyebrows practically hitting his hairline as he watched me, a clearly amused expression on his face. I wasn't sure whether he was going to hit me or ruffle my hair, but I mentally prepared for both.

"Would you like to order?" he asked.

"No, you were doing just fine."

"Then keep your damn mouth zipped," he demanded lightly.

"Kennedy," I gasped, my mouth falling open. Not exactly the reaction he wanted.

"What now?"

"There are children here!" I scolded.

"Fine. Keep your bleepin' mouth shut."

He returned his attention to the girl, who was now staring at us both like we were mental. I couldn't exactly blame her; we totally were.

"So, a small strawberry cone, and a large mint chocolate chip waffle cone?" she repeated, eying us warily.

"Yup, thanks," Kennedy grinned, handing her way more than the ice cream cost. I wandered to our regular booth, sliding in. My back was against the window and my legs were sprawled out on the bench as I awaited my bribe.

My mind drifted as I traced patterns on the linoleum tabletop. It had been ages since I had been here. It seemed like that's all today was becoming. First the practice, then our hangout, and in a few hours, the show. My heart trembled a bit as I thought about that part.

I didn't know if I could do it. I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do; after going totally AWOL on the guys, I couldn't just skip out on their gig. Music was important to them, and they were important to me. That meant their shows were important to me.

But then there was John. He was important to me, too.

And that was a problem.

He had a fiancée. He obviously didn't want me at the rehearsal. He obviously hadn't missed me; he didn't even call me. I ran a hand through my hair, my brain cursing profusely. He didn't want me around; it was the only conclusion I could come to.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kennedy asked, producing my treat. I grabbed it readily, searching for the right things to say. I didn't want him to have to worry about me taking off again. He already worried too much.

"Remember the summer before senior year when we came down here literally every single day?" I asked, my voice sounding distant even to me.

"Yeah, I remember," he smiled carefully, sliding in the booth across from me.

"It was the first summer you, me, and John ever spent together."

"I know," he said hesitantly, gauging my expression.

"I'm alright, ya know. You don't have to watch me like I'm gonna go insane or break down," I said softly, licking at my ice cream.

"I know," he repeated, taking a bite of his own cone.

"It was one of the best summers of my life." I chuckled, seeing the question in Kennedy's eye. "Yeah, I know. I don't really get it either. I mean, yeah, that year sucked. But you and John wouldn't let me think about it. You two made me smile and laugh every single day, and reminded me how lucky I was."

It was silent for a few moments. I knew Kenny was uncomfortable with what I had said by the way he was tapping his fingers against the table. I grabbed his hand, giving him a small smile.

"It's okay to say it, Kenny. I'm past it."

"You always say that Daise, and I'm so glad you got your life together. But I just don't get how you do it. You're strong."

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm not. I realized how incredibly selfish I was being. I had this beautiful life, and these amazing people in it. I was basically throwing it away. And that's not what my parents would have wanted."

"I'm sorry."

"Kennedy Brock, you stop that. It's not your fault. It never was. You and John, you guys saved me from myself. You showed me it was okay to be happy. John made me laugh and trust again, and you and your parents took me under your roof. You gave me a chance. And I'm forever grateful."

"Enough with this deep, emotional shit," Kennedy announced, and I giggled, nodding in approval.

"So, here's to some amazing ice cream, and your band kicking some serious ass tonight," I declared.

"Here, here!"

We tapped our cones together over the table, laughing. I took a bite of my waffle cone and sighed contently.

So much better than regular cones.



The hall was so packed, it was hard to breathe, let alone move. Yet somehow, I made my way toward the front. The guys were setting up on the stage, and people were already cheering in a drunken rumble. The energy was incredible, and I had to admit, I missed it.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight!" John said into the mic, a smile taking over his face. The crowd responded in a scream. I allowed myself to cheer with them. Tonight, I just wanted to be one in a sea of people. Anonymous. Unrecognizable. Invisible.

"So, we're The Maine, and we're gonna play a few songs for you tonight!"

He started the countdown, and electricity flooded my veins. I was lost in the music; completely immersed. I always had known how good they were, but it never would cease to amaze me by how much it moved me. Kennedy's eyes constantly flickered to where I stood, checking up on me, if you will. I rolled my eyes or stuck out my tongue every time he did.

Once or twice I felt the intensity of John's gaze on me, and I had to shake it off. Eventually he'd look away or I'd slip behind someone in the crowd. My invisibility cloak was obviously not working well at all. Finally, after a few songs the music stopped, and John waited for it to quiet down before he spoke. He looked directly at me, and my breathing hitched.

The microphone was mere centimeters from his lips, but he didn't look away. He wasn't addressing the audience. He was talking to me. My heart was in my throat, and I could not bring myself to look away.

"So, this next song isn't from the new album, but I'm gonna sing it anyway," he gave a crooked grin before going on. "It's called Growing Up. I hope you like it."

I stood completely frozen as the lyrics hit me one by one. I had the CD, and I'd listened to it countless times, but the words had never really been my priority. I had been trying to avoid John's voice.

Something about them struck a chord, and as soon as the Wonderwall reference came in, I was practically hyperventilating. It was my own mini epiphany, and it scared the hell out of me. I pushed through the people, blindly wandering to the vacant back of the room.

The air became cooler once I was out of the mob and all the body heat. I could still hear the melody though. I leaned up against the wall, struggling for air.

"Didn't expect to see you here," somebody scoffed. The tapping of stiletto heals echoed in my ear, and my eyes met ice.

The way the night was going, this shouldn't have surprised me. And yet, there I was in shock as the devil herself stood before me in a sequin mini-dress that barely covered her ass.

"Oh, hey Rosalie," I muttered, trying to force a smile. It came out as more of a grimace, which she returned.

"Why are you here, anyway? Last I heard, you ran away." I stared at her in disbelief before starting to walk away. She grabbed my arm, and I turned around, a little more than annoyed.

"Let go of me," I warned in a low voice. She gave a sickeningly sweet smile, her manicured nails digging into my forearm.

"I just wanna make sure we have an understanding."

"If that 'understanding' is that you're a psycho bitch, I get it loud and clear," I snapped; my fuse had finally hit it's end.

She glared, and I swear, I was dead for a minute.

"Funny."

"I thought so."

"Look, Shayla. John and I are engaged." She held her left hand up for emphasis, the diamond glittering in the sporadic lights. "So back the hell off."

"One, I know, I could see that rock on your finger from New York. Two, back off? I'm pretty sure if he wanted to be with me, we would've been together a long time ago. You clearly have nothing to worry about."

I broke free of her grip and started to leave. She called out, and I paused, looking back. It was a tremendous mistake.

"You're right, he doesn't want you. He never wanted you. In fact, the only reason he was ever friends with you was because he felt sorry for you. He told me himself," she said smugly.

My tear ducts were suddenly full, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of crying in front of her; I couldn't let her know she had gotten to me. Instead, I smiled, and put on my most cheerful voice.

"I hope you're incredibly happy together. You deserve each other."

Then I was out of the hall and into the adjoining bar as quickly as my feet would carry me. I wasn't worried about her following; her mile high heels stood no chance against my ballet slippers. I slid onto a stool, crystalline tears flowing freely down my face.

"Are you alright?" the bartender asked, making his way over to me. I sniffled, pawing at my face.

"Fine. Just get me something strong, please."