Regina George #4 (wlw)

I'd lean into the emotional tension rather than making Regina suddenly sentimental. The more she insists she's over the MC while her actions contradict her, the more it feels like Regina.

Six months.

One hundred and eighty-two days.

Not that Regina George was counting.

She wasn't.

She'd just overheard Karen mentioning it that morning.

"...It's been, like, half a year since you guys stopped talking."

Regina didn't even look up from fixing her lip gloss in the mirror.

"So?"

Karen shrugged.

"So... that's a long time."

"It really isn't."

"It kind of is."

Regina snapped the tube shut with a sharp click.

"I don't care."

Karen exchanged a look with Gretchen.

Neither of them said anything.

That somehow annoyed Regina even more.

—

Before the fight, people had joked that the two of you came as a package deal.

If Regina was invited somewhere, everyone assumed you were coming.

If someone wanted to know where Regina was, they asked you.

If someone needed to convince you to go somewhere, they asked Regina.

You'd been impossible to separate.

Until you did.

Nobody really knew what happened.

Rumors spread, of course.

That you'd betrayed her.

That she'd betrayed you.

That one of you had stolen the other's boyfriend.

That there'd been a screaming match in the parking lot.

That someone cried.

That someone slapped someone else.

None of it was true.

The real reason was somehow smaller.

And somehow worse.

You'd gotten tired.

Tired of every friendship feeling like a competition.

Tired of Regina deciding who you could spend time with.

Tired of every apology sounding like, I'm sorry you reacted that way.

You'd finally told her no.

Regina had laughed.

Then she'd told you to leave.

Neither of you had spoken since.

—

The strange thing about losing your favorite person wasn't that they disappeared.

It was that they stayed exactly where they'd always been.

Still walking the same hallways.

Still sitting in the same classrooms.

Still laughing with people who weren't you.

Every day became a reminder of someone who used to know everything about you.

Regina hated reminders.

She hated seeing your locker every morning.

She hated that your perfume lingered in classrooms after you'd left.

She hated hearing your laugh from down the hallway because her head would turn before she could stop herself.

It was ridiculous.

She was Regina George.

People missed her.

Not the other way around.

—

She still remembered things she didn't want to.

Like how you always stole the marshmallows out of her hot chocolate.

How you'd automatically straighten the necklace she'd never noticed had turned sideways.

How you'd quietly hand her a hair tie whenever she complained about her ponytail.

How you always knew when she was lying.

"You've got that face."

"What face?"

"The one where you're pretending you're fine."

"I always look like this."

"No."

You'd smiled.

"You only wrinkle your nose when you're upset."

She'd immediately stopped wrinkling her nose.

You'd laughed for five straight minutes.

—

"Regina?"

She blinked.

"What?"

Gretchen frowned.

"I asked if you wanted to go shopping after school."

"Oh."

She hadn't heard a word.

"Sure."

"...You hate that mall."

"I said sure."

—

It happened in chemistry.

Your teacher assigned partners.

Pure coincidence.

You ended up across the room.

Not with her.

Regina didn't care.

Obviously.

She absolutely did not spend the next forty-five minutes watching your lab partner make you laugh.

She definitely didn't grip her pencil hard enough for it to snap in half.

Karen slowly looked at the broken pencil.

"...Oops."

Regina dropped it into the trash.

"It was cheap."

—

She noticed things.

Against her will.

You'd cut your hair.

Just two inches.

Most people probably wouldn't notice.

Regina noticed immediately.

You'd switched backpacks.

Started wearing silver instead of gold.

You stopped wearing the hoodie she'd given you.

That one...

That one bothered her more than she'd expected.

—

"You're staring again."

"I'm literally not."

Karen pointed.

"Your head has been turned in her direction for, like... five minutes."

"I was looking at the clock."

"The clock's behind you."

"..."

Regina rolled her eyes.

"You guys are obsessed with making this a thing."

Karen tilted her head.

"So... you don't miss her?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"Then why'd you buy her favorite candy yesterday?"

Regina froze.

"...What?"

"You bought those strawberry gummies."

"So?"

"You don't like strawberry."

"I was trying something new."

"You threw them away."

"I changed my mind."

Karen waited.

"...After carrying them around all day."

Regina looked away.

"I forgot."

Karen sighed.

"You miss her."

"I don't."

"You still know her lunch schedule."

"I know everyone's lunch schedule."

"You still sit where she used to sit."

"It's the best seat."

"You still—"

"Oh my God, Karen."

The cafeteria went quiet for half a second.

Regina immediately lowered her voice.

"I said drop it."

Karen did.

But the look she gave Regina said enough.

—

The worst part was the dreams.

Not romantic.

Not dramatic.

Just...

Normal.

Dreams where you were both sitting on Regina's bedroom floor, ranking terrible movies.

Dreams where you stole fries off her plate.

Dreams where you were laughing so hard neither of you could breathe.

Dreams where nothing had happened.

Those were the hardest ones.

Because waking up meant remembering.

—

She'd typed your number into her phone more times than she'd ever admit.

Can we talk?

Delete.

This is stupid.

Delete.

I'm still mad.

Delete.

I miss—

Delete.

Absolutely not.

Regina George did not send vulnerable texts.

She barely sent apologies.

—

One Friday afternoon, she found herself parked outside your house.

She wasn't sure why.

She'd told herself she was taking a shortcut.

Even though this route added almost fifteen minutes.

She sat there for a full minute, watching the porch light flicker on as someone stepped outside.

You.

You were laughing at something your neighbor had said.

Your smile looked...

Different.

Lighter.

Regina hated that.

Not because you looked happy.

Because you looked happy without her.

She pressed harder on the gas pedal than necessary.

—

The next Monday, your teacher announced a semester-long project.

Partners would be chosen randomly.

The room buzzed with complaints.

Regina barely listened.

The teacher reached into a jar.

Read the first name.

Then yours.

Regina didn't react.

Not outwardly.

The second name came a heartbeat later.

"...Regina George."

The classroom fell silent.

Someone muttered, "Oh, this is going to be a disaster."

Regina finally looked up.

Across the room, you met her eyes for the first time in weeks.

Neither of you smiled.

Neither of you looked away.

The silence between you felt heavier than any argument you'd ever had.

The teacher clapped her hands.

"Looks like you two will have plenty of time to work things out."

Regina scoffed.

"As if."

But when the bell rang and everyone started filing out, she caught herself waiting.

Just for a second.

Long enough to see if you'd walk over.

Long enough to wonder if maybe...

Maybe six months was long enough.

When you didn't move, she looked away first.

"Whatever," she muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She walked out with her usual confidence, head high, expression unreadable.

Only Karen noticed that Regina slowed down when she passed your desk.

Only Gretchen noticed Regina glance back once before disappearing into the hallway.

And only Regina knew that the bracelet hidden beneath the sleeve of her cardigan—the cheap woven one you'd made together during a sleepover years ago—was still wrapped around her wrist.

She'd told herself she kept forgetting to take it off.

The truth was simpler.

Every morning, she'd see it.

Every morning, she'd think about removing it.

And every morning...

She couldn't bring herself to do it.

she misses you