Walking Disaster

slower. America giggled at
the stupid grin on my face.
    “See? He’s a happy drunk.”
    I blew air through my lips, and they made a puff sound. “I’m not drunk. Not yet.”
    Shepley pointed to the diminishing amber liquid. “If you drink the rest of that, you will be.”
    I held up the bottle, and then looked at the clock. “Three hours. Must be a good date.” I lifted the bottle to Shepley, and then touched it to my lips, tilting it all the way back.
The rest of the contents passed my numb lips and teeth, and burned all the way to my stomach.
    “Jesus, Travis,” Shepley said with a frown. “You should go pass out. You don’t want to be up when she gets home.”
    The sound of an engine grew louder as it approached the apartment and then idled outside. I knew the sound well—it was Parker’s Porsche.
    A sloppy smile spread across my lips. “What for? This is where the magic happens.”
    America watched me warily. “Trav . . . you promised.”
    I nodded. “I did. I promised. I’m just going to help her out of the car.” My legs were under me, but I couldn’t feel them. The back of the couch proved to be a great
stabilizer for my drunken attempt at walking.
    My hand encompassed the knob, but America gently covered it with her hand. “I’m going to go with you. To make sure you don’t break your promise.”
    “Good idea,” I said. I opened the door, and instantly adrenaline burned through the last half of the whiskey. The Porsche rocked once, and the windows were fogged.
    Unsure of how my legs moved so fast in my condition, I was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. America took a fistful of my shirt. As small as she was, she was surprisingly sturdy.
    “Travis,” she said in a loud whisper. “Abby’s not going to let it go too far. Try to calm down, first.”
    “I’m just going to check that she’s okay,” I said, taking the few steps to Parker’s car. The side of my hand hit the passenger-side window so hard, I was surprised
it didn’t break. When they didn’t open the door, I opened it for them.
    Abby was fidgeting with her dress. Her hair a mess and gloss-less lips, a telltale sign of what they’d been doing.
    Parker’s face tensed. “What the hell, Travis?”
    My hands balled into fists, but I could feel America’s hand on my shoulder.
    “C’mon, Abby. I need to talk to you,” America said.
    Abby blinked a few times. “About what?”
    “Just come on!” America snapped.
    Abby looked to Parker. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
    Parker shook his head, angry. “No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”
    I took Abby’s hand as she stepped from the Porsche, and then kicked the door shut. Abby flipped around and stood between me and the car, shoving my shoulder. “What is
wrong
with you? Knock it off!”
    The Porsche squealed out of the parking lot. I pulled my cigs out of my shirt pocket and lit one up. “You can go in, now, Mare.”
    “C’mon, Abby.”
    “Why don’t you stay,
Abs,
” I said. The word felt ridiculous to say. How Parker could utter it with a straight face was a feat in itself.
    Abby nodded for America to go ahead, and she reluctantly complied.
    I watched her for a moment, taking a drag or two from my cigarette.
    Abby crossed her arms. “Why did you do that?”
    “
Why?
Because he was mauling you in front of my apartment!”
    “I may be staying with you, but what I do, and who I do it with, is
my
business.”
    I flicked my cigarette to the ground. “You’re so much better than that, Pidge. Don’t let him fuck you in a car like a cheap prom date.”
    “I wasn’t going to have sex with him!”
    I waved my hand toward the empty space where Parker’s car sat. “What were you doing, then?”
    “Haven’t you ever made out with someone, Travis? Haven’t you just messed around without letting it get that far?”
    That was stupidest thing I’d ever heard. “What’s the point in that?” Blue balls and disappointment. Sounded like a ball.
    “The concept exists for a lot of people. Especially those that
date
.”
    “The windows were all fogged up, the car was bouncing . . . how was I supposed to know?”
    “Maybe you shouldn’t spy on me!”
    Spy on her? She knows we can hear every car that pulls up to the apartment, and she decided that right outside my door was a good place to suck face with a guy I can’t stand? I rubbed my
face in frustration, trying to keep my cool. “I can’t stand this, Pigeon. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
    “You