Walking Disaster

made No. Fucking. Sense. “
Why?
”
    “Because if I would have . . . if we would have . . . and you didn’t . . . I don’t know why! I just was!”
    She was about to admit it. She had to. Abby was pissed at me because she was going to give me her virginity, and I didn’t remember what had happened. This was it. This was my moment. We
were finally going to get our shit straight, but time was slipping away. Shepley was going to come tell Abby any minute to go run errands with America per our plans for the party.
    I rushed toward her, stopping inches away. My hands touched each side of her face. “What are we doin’, Pidge?”
    Her eyes began at my belt, and then traveled slowly up to my eyes. “You tell me.”
    Her face went blank, as if admitting deep feelings for me would make her whole system shut down.
    A knock on the door triggered my anger, but I stayed focused.
    “Abby?” Shepley said. “Mare was going to run some errands; she wanted me to let you know in case you needed to go.”
    “Pidge?” I said, staring into her eyes.
    “Yeah,” she called to Shepley. “I have some stuff I need to take care of.”
    “All right, she’s ready to go when you are,” Shepley said, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
    “Pidge?” I said, desperate to stay on track.
    She took a few steps backward, pulled a few things from the closet, and then slid past me. “Can we talk about this later? I have a lot to do today.”
    “Sure,” I said, deflated.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Porcelain
    A BBY DIDN ’ T STAY IN THE BATHROOM LONG. AS A MATTER of fact, she couldn’t leave the
apartment fast enough. I tried not to let it throw me. Abby usually spazzed out whenever something serious came up.
    The front door shut, and America’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Once again, the apartment seemed stuffy and too empty at the same time. I hated being there without her and wondered
what I had done before we met.
    I walked over to a small plastic bag from the pharmacy that I’d picked up a few days before. I’d uploaded some pics of me and Abby from my phone, and ordered some prints.
    The white walls finally had some color. Just as the last picture was tacked in place, Shepley knocked on the door.
    “Hey, man.”
    “Yeah?”
    “We’ve got shit to do.”
    “I know.”
    We drove to Brazil’s apartment, mostly in silence. When we arrived, Brazil opened the door, holding at least two dozen balloons. The long silver strings blew into his face, and he waved
them away, spitting some away from his lips.
    “I was wondering if you guys had canceled. Gruver is bringing the cake and liquor.”
    We walked past him into the front room. Their walls didn’t look much different from mine, but their apartment had either come “fully furnished” or they got their couch from the
Salvation Army.
    Brazil continued, “I had some redshirts grab some food and Mikey’s kick-ass speakers. One of the Sigma Cappa girls has some lights we can borrow—don’t worry, I
didn’t invite them. I said it was for a party next weekend. We should be set.”
    “Good,” Shepley said. “America would shit a wildcat if she showed up and we were here with a bunch of sorority girls.”
    Brazil smiled. “The only girls here will be a few of Abby’s classmates and girlfriends of the team. I think Abby’s going to love it.”
    I smiled, watching Brazil spread the balloons across the ceiling, letting the strings hang down. “I think so, too. Shep?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Don’t call Parker until the last minute. That way, we invited him, but if he makes it at all, at least he won’t be here the whole time.”
    “Got it.”
    Brazil took a breath. “Wanna help me move furniture, Trav?”
    “Sure,” I said, following him into the next room. The dining room and kitchen were one room, and the walls were already lined with chairs. The counter had a row of clean shot glasses
and an unopened bottle of Patrón.
    Shepley stopped, staring at the bottle. “This isn’t for Abby, is it?”
    Brazil smiled, his white teeth standing out against his dark olive skin. “Uh . . . yeah. It’s tradition. If the football team is throwing her a party, she’s getting the team
treatment.
    “You can’t make her drink that many shots,” Shepley said. “Travis. Tell him.”
    Brazil held up his hand. “I’m not making her do anything. For every shot she drinks, she gets a twenty. It’s our present to her.” His smile faded when he noticed
Shepley’s