Nova and Quinton: No Regrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

feel like they can talk to you and I know Quinton feels that way, too, since, besides me, you’re the only person he really talked to through all that shit.”
    “Thanks,” I say, but I get a little uncomfortable with his touch—always do. Tristan and I have a weird history full of awkward conversations. He’s always sort of flirted with me and once, right after my boyfriend committed suicide, I got really drunk and made out with him. Then I ran away crying and tried to slit my wrist open.
    I wasn’t exactly trying to kill myself when I did it. It was just a really low time in my life, perhaps the lowest I’ve ever been, and I was confused. But I’m better now—stronger. I don’t get drunk and make out with random guys and I even have a tattoo right below that scar—
never forget
—to remind me never to forget any of the stuff that’s happened. Good or bad. It’s a part of me and sometimes I think it’s made me stronger.
    Tristan and I leave our apartment and I lock the door behind us. We live in an indoor complex that has an elevator, but it’s so ancient and slow that most of the time we take the stairs. As we’re making our way down, I try not to count them, but I’m finding it hard. I need a distraction from my thoughts of Quinton and the complication building between Tristan and me, so I get out my phone to call Lea to see if she’s in for a movie-and-pizza night. Hopefully she is. That way Tristan and I won’t be alone.
    “Hey, it’s me,” I say after she answers, then stupidly add, “Nova.”
    “No duh.” She laughs. “You’re such a dork.”
    “Gee, thanks,” I reply sarcastically. “That means a lot coming from the girl who colored on her face with a permanent marker the other day.”
    “I was trying to have school spirit,” she explains defensively. “How the hell was I supposed to know the damn ‘Go Broncos’ wouldn’t wipe off my face afterward?”
    “Um, by the fact that the marker said ‘Sharpie’ on it.” I stop at the bottom of the stairway. “And ‘permanent.’ ”
    “Ha ha,” she says as Tristan opens the door for me and I step out into the sunlight beaming down from the crystal-blue sky. “You’re such a smartass.”
    “So are you.” I head up the sidewalk toward the carport with Tristan lollygagging behind me, messing around with his lighter.
    “I know, and I love that I’m rubbing off on you.”
    “Me, too.” I rummage through my purse for the keys to my car. “Anyway, so Tristan and I are heading to get some pizza and a movie, then we’re going to bring it back home. Are you down for a pizza/movie night?”
    “Can’t,” she says hurriedly. “I have plans.”
    “Plans with who?” I halt at the edge of the carport in front of my car. Tristan stops with me, observing me with curiosity. “I know you’re secretly dating,” I say to Lea. “So fess up.”
    “I am not,” she replies, feigning offense.
    “You are too,” I retort. “It’s why you’ve been hanging out at all the football games.”
    “Hey, I like football,” she argues. “I even turned on ESPN once.”
    “On accident,” I remind her. “You were channel surfing and then stopped on it because you thought the reporter was hot.”
    “Hey, if I say I like football, then I like football.”
    “No you don’t. In fact, you told me once that it was a pointless sport that only existed because guys have this need to prove that they’re tougher than each other.”
    “Hey, not all guys.” Tristan hops off the curb and underneath the shade of the carport that runs around the entire complex. Then he rounds the front of my car to the passenger side and opens the door. “In fact, I don’t mind being wimpy at all.”
    “Sure you don’t,” I tease, going to the driver’s side. “That’s why you tried to pick a fight with that guy in the campus yard the other day.”
    “I did that because he slapped your ass,” he says, ducking into the car, and I open my door and get inside