Walking Disaster

talked Abby into leaving her date with Parker to
come with me to a fight. Of course I wanted her there, but I made the mistake of admitting it was also that I had primarily asked her so I could win a pissing contest. I wanted Parker to know he
had no hold on her. Abby felt I’d taken advantage of her feelings for me, and she was right.
    All of those things were enough to feel guilty about, but the fact that Abby had been attacked in a place where I’d taken her made it nearly impossible to look anyone in the eye. Adding to
all of that our close call with the law totaled up to me being a gigantic fuckup.
    Regardless of my constant apologies, America spent her days in the apartment shooting dirty looks in my direction, and snapping unwarranted shitty remarks. Even after all that, I was glad
Shepley and America had reconciled. If she wouldn’t have taken him back, Shepley might have never forgiven me.
    “I’m going,” Shepley said. He walked into my room, where I sat in my boxers, still conflicted about what to do. “Picking up Mare at the dorm.”
    I nodded once. “Abby’s still going?”
    “Yeah. With Finch.”
    I managed a half smile. “Should that make me feel better?”
    Shepley shrugged. “It would me.” He looked around my walls and nodded. “You put the pictures back up.”
    I looked around, nodding once. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel right to just have them sitting in a bottom drawer.”
    “I guess I’ll see you later.”
    “Hey, Shep?”
    “Yeah,” he said, not turning around.
    “I really am sorry, cousin.”
    Shepley sighed. “I know.”
    The second he left, I walked into the kitchen to pour the last of the whiskey. The liquid amber sat still in the glass, waiting to offer comfort.
    I shot it back and closed my eyes, considering a trip to the liquor store. But there wasn’t enough whiskey in the universe to help me make my decision.
    “Fuck it,” I said, grabbing my bike keys.
    After a stop at Ugly Fixer Liquor’s, I drove the Harley over the curb and parked in the front yard of the fraternity house, opening the half-pint I’d just bought.
    Finding courage at the bottom of the bottle, I walked into Sig Tau. The entire house was covered in pink and red; cheap decorations were hung from the ceiling, and glitter covered the floor. The
bass from the speakers downstairs hummed throughout the house, muffling the laughter and constant drone of conversation.
    Standing room only, I had to turn and maneuver my way through the crowd of couples, keeping an eye out for Shepley, America, Finch, or Abby. Mostly Abby. She wasn’t standing in the
kitchen, or in any of the other rooms. She wasn’t on the balcony, either, so I made my way downstairs. My breath caught when I saw her.
    The beat of the music slowed, and her angel’s smile was noticeable even across the dim basement. Her arms wrapped around Finch’s neck, and he awkwardly moved with her to the
music.
    My feet propelled me forward, and before I knew what I was doing, or stopped to think about the consequences, I found myself standing inches away from them.
    “Mind if I cut in, Finch?”
    Abby froze, her eyes flashing with recognition.
    Finch’s eyes bounced between me and Abby. “Sure.”
    “Finch,” she hissed as he walked away.
    I pulled her against me and took a step.
    Abby kept dancing but kept as much space between us as possible. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
    “I wasn’t, but I knew you were here. I had to come.”
    With each passing minute, I expected her to walk away, and every minute she stayed in my arms felt like a miracle. “You look beautiful, Pidge.”
    “Don’t.”
    “Don’t what? Tell you you’re beautiful?”
    “Just . . . don’t.”
    “I didn’t mean it.”
    “Thanks,” she snapped.
    “No . . . you look beautiful. I meant that. I was talking about what I said in my room. I’m not going to lie. I enjoyed pulling you from your date with Parker . . .”
    “It wasn’t a date, Travis. We were just eating. He won’t speak to me now, thanks to you.”
    “I heard. I’m sorry.”
    “No you’re not.”
    “Y-you’re right,” I said, stuttering when I noticed she was getting angry. “But I . . . that wasn’t the only reason I took you to the fight. I wanted you there with
me, Pidge. You’re my good luck charm.”
    “I’m not your anything.” She glared up at me.
    My eyebrows pulled in and I stopped midstep. “You’re my
everything
.”
    Abby’s lips formed a hard line,