“So when you said you were going with Shepley to take his car to the shop . . .”
“We went to get your present.” I nodded.
“He’s wiggly!” She laughed.
“Every girl from Kansas needs a Toto,” I said, trying to keep the fur ball from falling off her lap.
“He does look like Toto! That’s what I’m going to call him,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him.
She was happy, and that made me happy.
“You can keep him here. I’ll take care of him for you when you’re back at Morgan, and it’s my security that you’ll visit when your month is up.”
“I would have come back anyway, Trav.”
“I’d do anything for that smile that’s on your face right now.”
My words made her pause, but she quickly turned her attention back to the dog. “I think you need a nap, Toto. Yes, you do.”
I nodded, pulled her onto my lap, and then lifted her with me as I stood. “Come on, then.”
I carried her to the bedroom, pulled back the covers, and then lowered her to the mattress. The action itself would have been a turn-on, but I was too tired. I reached over her to pull the curtains closed, and then fell onto my pillow.
“Thanks for staying with me last night,” she said, her voice a bit hoarse and sleepy. “You didn’t have to sleep on the bathroom floor.”
“Last night was one of the best nights of my life.”
She turned to shoot me a dubious look. “Sleeping in between the toilet and the tub on a cold, hard tile floor with a vomiting idiot was one of your best nights? That’s sad, Trav.”
“No, sitting up with you when you were sick, and you falling asleep in my lap, was one of my best nights. It wasn’t comfortable, I didn’t sleep worth a shit, but I brought in your nineteenth birthday with you, and you’re actually pretty sweet when you’re drunk.”
“I’m sure between the heaving and purging I was very charming.”
I pulled her close, patting Toto, who was snuggled up to her neck. “You’re the only woman I know that still looks incredible with your head in the toilet. That’s saying something.”
“Thanks, Trav. I won’t make you babysit me again.”
I leaned against my pillow. “Whatever. No one can hold your hair back like I can.”
She giggled and closed her eyes. As tired as I was, it was difficult to stop watching her. Her face was makeup free except for the thin skin under her lower lashes that was still a little stained with mascara. She fidgeted a bit before her shoulders relaxed.
I blinked a few times, my eyes getting heavier each time they closed. It seemed I’d just fallen asleep when I heard the doorbell.
Abby didn’t even stir.
Two male voices murmured in the living room, one of them Shepley’s. America’s voice was a high-pitched break between the two, but none of them sounded happy. Whoever it was wasn’t just making a social call.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and then the door blew open. Parker stood in the doorway. He looked at me, and then at Abby, his jaw tense.
I knew what he thought, and it crossed my mind to explain why Abby was in my bed, but I didn’t. Instead I reached over and rested my hand on her hip.
“Shut the door when you’re finished being in my business,” I said, resting my head next to Abby’s.
Parker walked away without a word. He didn’t slam my door, instead putting his full force behind closing the front door. Shepley peeked into my room. “Shit, bro. That’s not good.” It was done; couldn’t change it now. The consequences weren’t a concern in the moment, but lying next to Abby, scanning over her perfectly content, beautiful face, the panic slowly crept in. When she found out what I’d done, she would hate me.
THE GIRLS LEFT FOR CLASS THE NEXT MORNING IN A rush. Pidge barely had time to speak to me before she left, so her feelings about the day before were definitely less than clear.
I brushed my teeth and got dressed, and then found Shepley in the kitchen.
He sat on a stool in front of the breakfast bar, slurping milk from his spoon. He wore a hoodie and the pink boxers America had bought him because she thought they were “sexy.”
I pulled a glass from the dishwasher and filled it with OJ. “Looks like you two worked it out.”
Shepley smiled, looking nearly drunk with contentment. “We did. Have I ever told you what America is like in bed right after we argue?”
I made a face. “No, and please don’t.”
“Fighting with her like that is scary as hell, but tempting if we make up like that every time.” When I didn’t answer, Shepley continued. “I’m going to marry that woman.”
“Yeah. Well, when you’re done being a pansy ass, we need to be on our way.”
“Shut your face, Travis. Don’t think I’m oblivious to what’s going on with you.”
I crossed my arms. “And what’s going on with me?”
“You’re in love with Abby.”
“Pft. You were obviously making shit up in your head to keep your mind off America.”
“You’re denying it?” Shepley’s eyes didn’t flinch, and I tried to look everywhere but into them.
After a full minute, I shifted nervously but remained silent.
“Who’s being a pansy ass, now?”
“Fuck you.”
“Admit it.”
“No.”
“No, you’re not denying that you’re in love with Abby, or no you won’t admit it? Because either way, ass**le, you’re in love with her.”
“. . . So?”
“I KNEW IT!” Shepley said, kicking the stool back, making it skid to where the wood floor met the rug in the living room.
“I . . . just . . . shut up, Shep,” I said. My lips formed a hard line.
Shepley pointed at me while walking to his room. “You just admitted to it. Travis Maddox in love. Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Just put your panties on, and let’s go!”
Shepley chuckled to himself in his bedroom, and I stared at the floor. Saying it out loud—to someone else—made it real, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Less than five minutes later, I was fiddling with the radio in the Charger while Shepley was pulling out of the parking lot of our apartment complex.
Shepley seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood as we weaved through traffic and slowed down just enough to keep from tossing pedestrians over the hood. He finally found a suitable parking space, and we headed to English Comp II—the one class we shared.
The top row had been me and Shepley’s new seating arrangement for several weeks in an attempt to break free of the flock of baggable females that usually crowded my desk.
Dr. Park breezed into the classroom, dumping off a tote bag, a briefcase, and a cup of coffee onto her desk. “Christ! It’s cold!” she said, pulling her coat tighter around her tiny frame. “Is everyone here?” Hands shot up, and she nodded, not really paying attention. “Great. Good news. Pop quiz!”
Everyone groaned, and she smiled. “You’ll still love me. Paper and pen, people, I don’t have all day.”
The room filled with the same sound as everyone reached for their supplies. I scribbled my name at the top of my paper and smiled at Shepley’s panicked whispers.
“Why? Pop quiz in Comp Two? Fucking ridiculous,” he hissed.