Walking Disaster

annoyed. “To get dressed and go to class. Do you need an itinerary while I’m here?”
    She wanted to play hardball? Okay. I’d play. I walked over to her and cupped her shoulders in my hands. Damn, her skin felt good against mine. “Are you always so temperamental, or
will that taper off once you believe I’m not just creating some elaborate scheme to get in your pants?”
    “I’m
not
temperamental.”
    I leaned in, whispering in her ear. “I don’t want to sleep with you, Pidge. I like you too much.”
    Her body grew tense, and then I left without another word. Jumping up and down to celebrate the thrill of victory would have been a bit obvious, so I restrained myself until I was sufficiently
hidden behind the door, and then made a few celebratory air punches. Keeping her on her toes was never easy, but when it worked, I felt like I was one step closer to . . .
    To what? I wasn’t exactly sure. It just felt right.
    It had been a while since I’d done any grocery shopping, so breakfast wasn’t quite gourmet, but it was good enough. I scrambled eggs in a bowl, throwing in a concoction of onion,
green and red pepper, and then poured it into a skillet.
    Abby walked in and sat on a stool.
    “You sure you don’t want some?”
    “I’m sure. Thanks, though.”
    She had just rolled out of bed and was still gorgeous. It was ridiculous. I was sure that couldn’t be typical, but I wouldn’t know, either. The only girls I’d seen in the
morning were Shepley’s, and I didn’t look at any of them close enough to have an opinion.
    Shepley grabbed some plates and held them in front of me. I scooped up eggs in the spatula and flopped them onto each plate. Abby watched with mild interest.
    America puffed as Shepley sat the plate in front of her. “Don’t look at me like that, Shep. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go.”
    Shepley had been moping for days about America’s rejection of his invitation to the date party. I didn’t blame her. Date parties were torture. The fact that she didn’t want to
go was kinda impressive. Most girls fell all over themselves to be invited to those things.
    “Baby,” Shepley whined, “the House has a date party twice a year. It’s a month away. You’ll have plenty of time to find a dress and do all that girl
stuff.”
    America wasn’t going for it. I tuned them out until I realized America had agreed to go only if Abby would. If Abby went, that meant she’d go with a date. America looked to me, and I
raised an eyebrow.
    Shepley didn’t hesitate. “Trav doesn’t go to the date parties. It’s something you take your girlfriend to . . . and Travis doesn’t . . . you know.”
    America shrugged. “We could set her up with someone.”
    I started to speak up, but Abby clearly wasn’t happy. “I can hear you, you know,” she grumbled.
    America pouted. That was the face Shepley couldn’t deny.
    “Please, Abby? We’ll find you a nice guy who’s funny and witty, and you know I’ll make sure he’s hot. I promise you’ll have a good time! And who knows? Maybe
you’ll hit it off.”
    I frowned. America would find her a guy? For the date party. One of my frat brothers. Oh, fuck, no. The thought of her hitting it off with
anyone
made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand on end.
    The pan made a clanging noise when I threw it into the sink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take her.”
    Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t do me any favors, Travis.”
    I took a step. “That’s not what I meant, Pidge. Date parties are for the guys with girlfriends, and it’s common knowledge that I don’t do the girlfriend thing. But I
won’t have to worry about you expecting an engagement ring afterward.”
    America pouted again. “Pretty please, Abby?”
    Abby looked like she was in pain. “Don’t look at me like that! Travis doesn’t want to go. I don’t want to go . . . we won’t be much fun.”
    The more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the sink. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I think it’d be fun if
the four of us went.”
    Abby recoiled when all eyes turned to her. “Why don’t we hang out here?”
    I was okay with that.
    America’s shoulders slumped, and Shepley leaned forward.
    “Because I have to go, Abby,” Shepley said. “I’m a freshman. I have to make sure everything’s running smoothly, everyone has a beer in their hand, things like
that.”
    Abby was mortified. She