Walking Disaster

one to Abby. I leaned into her ear. “Don’t take these from anyone but me or Shep. I
don’t want anyone slipping something in your drink.”
    She rolled her eyes. “No one is going to put anything in my drink, Travis.”
    She clearly wasn’t familiar with some of my frat brothers. I’d heard stories about no one in particular. Which was a good thing, because if I’d ever caught anyone pulling that
shit, I would beat the shit out of them without hesitation.
    “Just don’t drink anything that doesn’t come from me, okay? You’re not in Kansas anymore, Pigeon.”
    “I haven’t heard that one before,” she snapped, throwing back half the cup of beer before she pulled the plastic away from her face. She could drink, I’d give her
that.
    We stood in the hallway by the stairs, trying to pretend everything was fine. A few of my frat brothers stopped by to chat as they came down the stairs, and so did a few sorority sisters, but I
quickly dismissed them, hoping Abby would notice. She didn’t.
    “Wanna dance?” I asked, tugging on her hand.
    “No thanks,” she said.
    I couldn’t blame her, after the night before. I was lucky she was speaking to me at all.
    Her thin, elegant fingers touched my shoulder. “I’m just tired, Trav.”
    I put my hand on hers, ready to apologize again, to tell her that I hated myself for what I’d done, but her eyes drifted away from mine to someone behind me.
    “Hey, Abby! You made it!”
    The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Parker Hayes.
    Abby’s eyes lit up, and she pulled her hand out from under mine in one quick movement. “Yeah, we’ve been here for an hour or so.”
    “You look incredible!” he yelled.
    I made a face at him, but he was so preoccupied with Abby, he didn’t notice.
    “Thanks!” She smiled.
    It occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one that could make her smile that way, and suddenly I was working to keep my temper in check.
    Parker nodded toward the living room and smiled. “You wanna dance?”
    “Nah, I’m kinda tired.”
    A tiny bit of relief dulled my anger a bit. It wasn’t me; she really was just too tired to dance, but the anger didn’t take long to return. She was tired because she was kept up half
the night by the sounds of whoever I’d brought home, and the other half of the night she’d slept in the recliner. Now Parker was here, sweeping in as the knight in shining armor like he
always did. Rat bastard.
    Parker looked at me, unfazed by my expression. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
    “I changed my mind,” I said, trying very hard not to punch him and obliterate four years of orthodontic work.
    “I see that,” Parker said, looking to Abby. “You wanna get some air?”
    She nodded, and I felt like someone had knocked the air out of me. She followed Parker up the stairs. I watched as he paused, reaching to take her hand as they climbed to the second floor. When
they reached the top, Parker opened the doors to the balcony.
    Abby disappeared, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the screaming in my head. Everything in me said to go up there and take her back. I gripped the banister, holding myself
back.
    “You look pissed,” America said, touching her red cup to mine.
    My eyes popped open. “No. Why?”
    She made a face. “Don’t lie to me. Where’s Abby?”
    “Upstairs. With Parker.”
    “Oh.”
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    She shrugged. She’d only been there a little over an hour, and already had that familiar glaze in her eyes. “You’re jealous.”
    I shifted my weight, uncomfortable with someone else besides Shepley being so direct with me. “Where’s Shep?”
    America rolled her eyes. “Doing his freshman duties.”
    “At least he doesn’t have to stay after and clean up.”
    She lifted the cup to her mouth and took a sip. I wasn’t sure how she could already have a nice buzz drinking like that.
    “So are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “Jealous?”
    I frowned. America wasn’t usually so obnoxious. “No.”
    “Number two.”
    “Huh?”
    “That’s lie number two.”
    I looked around. Shepley would surely rescue me soon.
    “You really fucked up last night,” she said, her eyes suddenly clear.
    “I know.”
    She squinted, glaring at me so intensely that I wanted to shrink back. America Mason was a tiny blond thing, but she was intimidating as fuck when she wanted to be. “You should walk away,
Trav.” She looked up, to the top of the stairs.