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, f**k, 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 clearly didn’t want to go, but what scared me was that she couldn’t say no to America, and Shepley was willing to say anything for his girlfriend to go. If Abby didn’t go with me, she could end up spending the evening—or night—with one of my frat brothers. They weren’t bad guys, but listening to the stories they’ve told, and imagining them talking about Abby was something I couldn’t stand.
I walked across the tile and wrapped my arms around Abby’s shoulders. “C’mon Pidge. Will you go with me?”
Abby looked to America, then to Shepley. It was only a few seconds until she looked into my eyes, but it felt like a goddamn eternity.
When her eyes finally met mine, her walls came crashing down.
“Yes.” She sighed. The enthusiasm in her voice was nonexistent, but it didn’t matter. She was going with me, and that knowledge allowed me to breathe again.
America screamed like girls do, clapped her hands, and then grabbed Abby to hug her.
Shepley offered an appreciative smile to me, and then to Pigeon. “Thanks, Abby,” he said, placing his hand on her back.
I’d never seen someone less happy to go on a date with me, but then again, it wasn’t me she was unhappy about.
The girls finished getting ready and left early for their eight o’clock class. Shepley stuck around to do the dishes, happy that he’d finally gotten his way.
“Dude, thank you. I didn’t think America would go.”
“What the f**k, Chuck? You guys are trying to set Pidge up with someone?”
“No. I mean, America might have. I don’t know. What does it matter?”
“It matters.”
“It does?”
“Just don’t . . . don’t do that, okay? I don’t wanna see her making out in a dark corner with Parker Hayes.”
Shepley nodded, scrubbing the egg from the skillet. “Or anyone else.”
“So?”
“How long do you think that’s going to fly?”
I frowned. “I don’t know. As long as it can. Just don’t step on my toes.”
“Travis, do you want her or not? Doing what you can to keep her from dating someone else when you’re not even with her is kind of an ass**le thing to do.”
“We’re just friends.”
Shepley shot a dubious smirk in my direction. “Friends talk about a weekend f**k. Somehow, I don’t see that happening for you two.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
Shepley’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “It kinda does, bro.”
He wasn’t wrong. I just didn’t want to admit it. “There’s just . . .” I paused, glancing to see Shepley’s expression. Of all people, he would judge me the least, but it felt weak to admit what I’d been thinking about, and how often thoughts of Abby had crossed my mind. Shepley would understand, but it didn’t make me feel any better about saying it out loud. “There’s something about her I need. That’s all. Is it weird that I think she’s cool as hell and I don’t want to share?”
“You can’t share her if she’s not yours.”
“What do I know about dating, Shep? You. You and your twisted, obsessive, needy relationships. If she meets someone else and starts dating them, I’ll lose her.”
“So date her.”
I shook my head. “Not ready yet.”
“Why’s that? Scared?” Shepley asked, throwing the dish towel in my face. It fell to the floor, and I bent down to pick it up. The fabric twisted and pulled tight in my hands as I wrung it back and forth.
“She’s different, Shepley. She’s good.”
“What are you waiting for?”
I shrugged. “Just one more reason, I guess.”
Shepley grimaced with disapproval, and then bent down to start the dishwasher. A mixture of mechanical and fluid sounds filled the room, and Shepley made his way to his room. “Her birthday’s coming up, you know. Mare wants to put something together.”
“Abby’s birthday?”
“Yeah. In a little over a week.”
“Well, we gotta do something. Do you know what she likes? Does America have something in mind? I guess I better buy her something. What the f**k do I get her?”
Shepley smiled as he closed his bedroom door. “You’ll figure it out. Class starts in five. You riding in the Charger?”
“Nah. I’m going to see if I can get Abby on the back of my bike again. It’s the closest I can get to the inside of her thighs.”
Shepley laughed, and then shut the door behind him.
I headed to my bedroom, and slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Wallet, phone, keys. I couldn’t imagine being a girl. The bullshit routine they had to go through just to get out the door consumed half of their lives.
Class took for f**king ever, and then I rushed across campus to Morgan Hall. Abby was standing at the front entrance with some guy, and my blood instantly boiled. A few seconds later, I recognized Finch and sighed with relief. She was waiting for him to finish his cigarette, and laughing at whatever he was saying. Finch was waving his arms around, obviously in the middle of a grand story, the only pauses he took were to take drags of his cigarette.
When I approached, Finch winked at Abby. I took that as a good sign. “Hey, Travis,” he sang.
“Finch.” I nodded, quickly turning my attention to Abby. “I’m headed home, Pidge. You need a ride?”
“I was just going in,” she said, grinning up at me.