Walking Disaster

can by the bar. “I’ve told you a hundred times . . . you can’t take drinks from random guys.
What if he put something in it?”
    America held up her glass. “The drinks were never out of our sight, Trav. You’re overreacting.”
    “I’m not talking to you,” I said, glaring at Abby.
    Her eyes flashed, mirroring my anger. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
    “Travis,” Shepley warned, “let it go.”
    “I don’t like you letting other guys buy you drinks,” I said.
    Abby raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”
    “Would it bother you to walk up to the bar and see me sharing a drink with some chick?”
    “Okay. You’re oblivious to all women, now. I get it. I should be making the same effort.”
    “It would be nice,” I said, my teeth clenched.
    “You’re going to have to tone down the jealous-boyfriend thing, Travis. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
    “I walk up here, and some guy is buying you a drink!”
    “Don’t yell at her!” America said.
    Shepley put his hand on Travis’s shoulder. “We’ve all had a lot to drink. Let’s just get out of here.”
    Abby’s anger turned up a notch. “I have to tell Finch we’re leaving,” she grumbled, shouldering past me to the dance floor.
    I took her by the wrist. “I’ll go with you.”
    She twisted from my grip. “I am fully capable of walking a few feet by myself, Travis. What is
wrong
with you?”
    Abby pushed her way out to Finch, who was flinging his arms around and jumping around in the middle of the wooden floor. Sweat was pouring down his forehead and from his temples. At first he
smiled, but when she yelled her goodbyes, he rolled his eyes.
    Abby had mouthed my name. She had blamed it on me, which only made me more mad. Of course I would get angry if she did something that could get her hurt. She didn’t seem to mind so much
when I was bashing Chris Jenks’s head in, but when I got pissed about her taking drinks from strangers, she had the audacity to get mad.
    Just as my anger boiled to rage, some asshole in a pirate costume grabbed Abby and pressed himself against her. The room blurred, and before I knew it, my fist was in his face. The pirate fell
to the floor, but when Abby went with him, I snapped back to reality.
    Her palms flat on the dance floor, she looked stunned. I was frozen in shock, watching her, in slow motion, turn her hand over to see that it was covered in bright red blood gushing from the
pirate’s nose.
    I scrambled to pick her up. “Oh shit! Are you all right, Pidge?”
    When Abby got to her feet, she yanked her arm from my grip. “Are you
insane
?”
    America grabbed Abby’s wrist and pulled her through the crowd, only letting go when we were outside. I had to walk double-time to keep up.
    In the parking lot, Shepley unlocked the Charger and Abby slid into her seat.
    I tried pleading with her. She was beyond pissed. “I’m sorry, Pigeon, I didn’t know he had a hold of you.”
    “Your fist was two inches from my face!” she said, catching the oil-stained towel Shepley had thrown at her. She wiped the blood from her hand, wringing the cloth around each finger,
clearly revolted.
    I winced. “I wouldn’t have swung if I thought I could have hit you. You know that right?”
    “Shut up, Travis. Just shut up,” she said, staring at the back of Shepley’s head.
    “Pidge . . .”
    Shepley hit his steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Shut up, Travis! You said you’re sorry, now shut the fuck up!”
    I couldn’t say anything back. Shepley was right: I had FUBARed the entire night, and suddenly Abby kicking me to the curb became a frightening possibility.
    When we reached the apartment, America kissed her boyfriend good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”
    Shepley nodded in resignation and kissed her. “Love you.”
    I knew they were leaving because of me. Otherwise, the girls would be staying the night at the apartment like they did every weekend.
    Abby walked past me to America’s Honda without saying a word.
    I jogged to her side, trying an awkward smile in an attempt to defuse the situation. “C’mon. Don’t leave mad.”
    “Oh, I’m not leaving mad. I’m furious.”
    “She needs some time to cool off, Travis,” America warned, unlocking her door.
    When the passenger side lock popped, I panicked, holding my hand against the door. “Don’t leave, Pigeon. I was out of line. I’m
sorry
.”
    Abby held up her hand, showing the remnants of dried