Walking Disaster

by Jamie McGuire

  "The same." Her voice was small, distant.

  "Did you have a good break?" I asked, playfully swaying her from side to side.

  "Pretty good."

  Yeah. This was awkward as fuck.

  "Sweet. I've got another class. Later." I walked out of the cafeteria quickly, reaching for the Marlboro box in my pocket before I even shouldered through the metal doors.

  The next two classes were torture. The only place that felt like a safe haven was my bedroom, away from campus, away from everything that reminded me that I was alone, and away from the rest of the world, which was continuing on, not giving a shit that I was in so much pain it was palpable. Shepley kept telling me it wouldn't be so bad after a while, but it didn't seem to be letting up.

  I met my cousin in the parking lot in front of Morgan Hall, trying hard not to stare at the entrance. Shepley seemed on edge and didn't talk much on the ride to the apartment.

  When he pulled into his parking spot, he sighed. I debated whether or not to ask him if he and America were having problems, but I didn't think I could handle his shit and mine.

  I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and pushed the door open, stopping only long enough to unlock the door.

  "Hey," Shepley said, shutting the door behind him. "You all right?"

  "Yeah," I said from the hallway, not turning around.

  "That was kind of awkward in the cafeteria."

  "I guess," I said, taking another step.

  "So, uh . . . I should probably tell you something I overheard. I mean . . . hell, Trav, I don't know if I should tell you or not. I don't know if it'll make it worse or better."

  I turned around. "Overheard from who?"

  "Mare and Abby were talking. It was . . . mentioned that Abby's been miserable all break."

  I stood in silence, trying to keep my breathing even.

  "Did you hear what I said?" Shepley asked, his brows pulling together.

  "What does that mean?" I asked, throwing my hands up. "She's been miserable without me? Because we're not friends anymore? What?"

  Shepley nodded. "Definitely a bad idea."

  "Tell me!" I yelled, feeling myself shake. "I can't . . . I can't keep feeling like this!" I threw my keys down the hall, hearing a loud crack when they made contact with the wall. "She barely acknowledged me today, and you're telling me she wants me back? As a friend? The way it was before Vegas? Or is she just miserable in general?"

  "I don't know."

  I let my bag fall to the floor and kicked it in Shepley's general direction. "Wh-why are you doing this to me, man? Do you think I'm not suffering enough, because I promise you, it's too much."

  "I'm sorry, Trav. I just thought I'd wanna know . . . if it were me."

  "You're not me! Just fucking . . . leave it alone, Shep. Leave it the hell alone." I slammed my door and sat on my bed, my head resting on my hands.

  Shepley cracked open the door. "I'm not trying to make it worse, if that's what you think. But I knew if you found out later, you would have kicked my ass for not telling you. That's all I'm sayin'."

  I nodded once. "Okay."

  "You think . . . you think if maybe you focused on all the bullshit you had to endure with her, that'd make it easier?"

  I sighed. "I've tried. I keep coming back to the same thought."

  "What's that?"

  "Now that it's over, I wish I could have all the bad stuff back . . . just so I could have the good."

  Shepley's eyes bounced around the room, trying to think of something else comforting to say, but he was clearly all out of advice. His cell phone beeped.

  "It's Trent," Shepley said, reading the display screen. His eyes lit up. "You want to grab some drinks with him at the Red? He gets off at five today. His car broke down and he wants you to take him to see Cami. You should go, man. Take my car."

  "All right. Let him know I'm comin'." I sniffed, and wiped my nose before standing up.

  Sometime between me leaving the apartment and pulling into the gravel lot of the tattoo parlor Trenton worked at, Shepley had alerted Trenton to my shitty day. Trenton gave it away when he insisted on going straight to the Red Door as soon as he slid into the passenger seat of the Charger, instead of wanting to go home to change first.

  When we arrived, we were alone except for Cami, the owner, and some guy stocking Cami's bar, but it was the middle of the week--prime college bar time and coin beer night. It didn't take long for the room to fill with people.

  I was already lit by the time Lexi and some of her friends had made a drive-by, but it wasn't until Megan stopped by that I even bothered to look up.

  "Looking pretty sloppy, Maddox."

  "Nah," I said, trying to get my numb lips to form around my words.

  "Let's dance," she whined, tugging on my arm.

  "I don't think I can," I said, swaying.

  "I don't think you should," Trenton said, amused.

  Megan bought me a beer and took the stool next to mine. Within ten minutes, she was pawing at my shirt, and not so subtly touching my arms, and then my hands. Just before closing, she had given up her stool to stand next to me--or more like straddle my thigh.

  "So I didn't see the bike outside. Did Trenton drive you?"

  "Nope. I brought Shepley's car."

  "I love that car," she cooed. "You should let me drive you home."

  "You wanna drive the Charger?" I asked, slurring.

  I glanced over to Trenton, who was stifling a laugh. "Probably not a bad idea, little brother. Be safe . . . in every way."

  Megan pulled me off the stool, and then out of the bar into the parking lot. She wore a sequined tube top with a jean skirt and boots, but she didn't seem to mind the cold--if it was cold. I couldn't tell.

  She giggled as I threw my arm around her shoulders to help steady myself as I walked. When we reached the passenger side of Shepley's car, she stopped giggling.

  "Some things never change, huh, Travis?"

  "Guess not," I said, staring at her lips.

  Megan wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in, not even hesitating to stick her tongue into my mouth. It was wet and soft, and vaguely familiar.

  After a few minutes of playing grab ass and trading spit, she hiked her leg up, wrapping it around me. I grabbed her thigh, and rammed my pelvis into hers. Her ass slammed against the car door, and she moaned into my mouth.

  Megan always liked it rough.

  Her tongue made a trail down my neck, and it was then that I noticed the cold, feeling the warmth left behind by her mouth cool quickly from the winter air.

  Megan's hand reached between us, and she grabbed my dick, smiling that I was right where she wanted me to be. "Mmmmm, Travis," she hummed, biting my lip.

  "Pigeon." The word came out muffled as I crashed my mouth against hers. At that stage of the night, it was easy enough to pretend.

  Megan giggled. "What?" In true Megan fashion, she didn't demand an explanation when I didn't respond. "Let's go to your apartment," she said, grabbing the keys from my hand. "My roommate is sick."

  "Yeah?" I asked, pulling on the door handle. "You really wanna drive the Charger?"

  "Better me than you," she said, kissing me one last time before leaving me for the driver's side.

  While Megan drove, she laughed and talked about her break all while opening my jeans and reaching inside. It was a good thing I was drunk, because I hadn't been laid since Thanksgiving. Otherwise, by the time we reached the apartment, Megan would have had to catch a cab and call it a night.

  Halfway home, the empty fishbowl flashed in my mind. "Wait a sec. Wait a sec," I said, pointing down the street. "Stop at the Swift Mart. We gotta pick up some . . ."

  Megan reached into her purse and pulled out a small box of condoms. "Gotcha covered."

  I leaned back and smiled. She really was my kind of girl.

  Megan pulled up into Shepley's parking spot, having been to the apartment enough times to know. She jogged around in tiny steps, trying to
hurry along in her stilettos.

  I leaned on her to walk up the stairs, and she laughed against my mouth when I finally figured out the door was already unlocked and shoved through it.

  Midkiss, I froze. Abby was standing in the front room, holding Toto.

  "Pigeon," I said, stunned.

  "Found it!" America said, jogging out of Shepley's room.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  Abby's expression morphed from surprise to anger. "It's good to see you're feeling like your old self, Trav."

  "We were just leaving," America snarled. She grabbed Abby's hand as they slid past me and Megan.

  It took me a moment to react, but I made my way down the steps, for the first time noticing America's Honda. A string of expletives ran through my mind.

  Without thinking, I grabbed a fistful of Abby's coat. "Where are you going?"

  "Home," she snapped, straightening her coat in a huff.

  "What are you doing here?"

  The packed snow crunched under America's feet as she walked up behind Abby, and suddenly Shepley was beside me, his wary eyes fixed on his girlfriend.

  Abby lifted her chin. "I'm sorry. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come."

  I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. "You can come here anytime you want, Pidge. I never wanted you to stay away."

  "I don't want to interrupt." She looked to the top of the stairs, where Megan of course stood to watch the show. "Enjoy your evening," she said, turning away.

  I grabbed her arm. "Wait. You're mad?"

  She yanked her coat from my grip. "You know"--she laughed once--"I don't even know why I'm surprised."

  She might have laughed, but she had hatred in her eyes. No matter what I did--moving on without her, or lying in my bed agonizing over her--she would have hated me. "I can't win with you. I can't win with you! You say you're done . . . I'm fucking miserable over here! I had to break my phone into a million pieces to keep from calling you every minute of the damn day--I've had to play it off like everything is just fine at school so you can be happy . . . and you're fucking mad at me? You broke my fuckin' heart!" I screamed.

  "Travis, you're drunk. Let Abby go home," Shepley said.

  I grabbed Abby's shoulders and pulled her closer, looking into her eyes. "Do you want me or not? You can't keep doing this to me, Pidge!"

  "I didn't come here to see you."

  "I don't want her," I said, staring at her lips. "I'm just so fucking unhappy, Pigeon." I leaned in to kiss her, but she grabbed my chin and held me away.

  "You've got her lipstick on your mouth, Travis," she said, disgusted.

  I took a step back and lifted my shirt, wiping my mouth. Red streaks left behind made it impossible to deny. "I just wanted to forget. Just for one fuckin' night."

  One tear spilled over onto Abby's cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. "Then don't let me stop you."

  She turned to walk away, but I grabbed her arm again.

  A blond blur was suddenly in my face, lashing out and striking at me with small but vicious fists.

  "Leave her alone, you bastard!"

  Shepley grabbed America, but she pushed him away, turning to slap my face. The sound of her hand against my cheek was quick and loud, and I flinched with the noise. Everyone froze for a moment, shocked at America's sudden rage.

  Shepley grabbed his girlfriend again, holding her wrists, and pulling her to the Honda while she thrashed about.

  She fought him violently, her blond hair whipping around as she attempted to get away.

  "How could you? She deserved better from you, Travis!"

  "America, STOP!" Shepley yelled, louder than I'd ever heard him.

  Her arms fell to her side as she glared at Shepley in disgust. "You're defending him?"

  Although he was scared as hell, he stood his ground. "Abby broke up with him. He's just trying to move on."

  America's eyes narrowed, and she pulled her arm from his grip. "Well then, why don't you go find a random WHORE"--she looked at Megan--"from the Red and bring her home to fuck, and then let me know if it helps you get over me."

  "Mare." Shepley grabbed for her, but she evaded him, slamming the door as she sat behind the wheel. Abby opened the passenger door and sat next to her.

  "Baby, don't leave," Shepley begged, leaning down into the window.

  America started the car. "There is a right side and a wrong side here, Shep. And you are on the wrong side."

  "I'm on your side," he said, his eyes desperate.

  "Not anymore, you're not," she said, backing out.

  "America? America!" Shepley yelled.

  When the Honda was out of sight, Shepley turned around, breathing hard.

  "Shepley, I'm--"

  Before I could get a word out, Shepley reared back and launched his fist into my jaw.

  I took the blow, touched my face, and then nodded. I deserved that.

  "Travis?" Megan called from the stairs.

  "I'll take her home," Shepley said.

  I watched the taillights of the Honda get smaller as it took Abby farther away, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thanks."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Possession

  SHE'S GOING TO BE THERE.

  Showing up would be a mistake.

  It would be awkward.

  She's going to be there.

  What if someone asks her to dance?

  What if she meets her future husband and I'm there to witness it?

  She doesn't want to see me.

  I might get drunk and do something to piss her off.

  She might get drunk and do something to piss me off.

  I shouldn't go.

  I had to go. She was going to be there.

  I mentally listed the pros and cons for going to the Valentine's party but kept coming back to the same conclusion: I needed to see Abby, and that's where she would be.

  Shepley was getting ready in his room, barely speaking to me since he and America had finally gotten back together. In part because they stayed holed up in his room making up for lost time, and he still blamed me for the five weeks they'd spent apart.

  America never missed a moment to let me know she hated my guts, especially after the most recent time I'd broken Abby's heart. I had talked Abby into leaving her date with Parker to come with me to a fight. Of course I wanted her there, but I made the mistake of admitting it was also that I had primarily asked her so I could win a pissing contest. I wanted Parker to know he had no hold on her. Abby felt I'd taken advantage of her feelings for me, and she was right.

  All of those things were enough to feel guilty about, but the fact that Abby had been attacked in a place where I'd taken her made it nearly impossible to look anyone in the eye. Adding to all of that our close call with the law totaled up to me being a gigantic fuckup.

  Regardless of my constant apologies, America spent her days in the apartment shooting dirty looks in my direction, and snapping unwarranted shitty remarks. Even after all that, I was glad Shepley and America had reconciled. If she wouldn't have taken him back, Shepley might have never forgiven me.

  "I'm going," Shepley said. He walked into my room, where I sat in my boxers, still conflicted about what to do. "Picking up Mare at the dorm."

  I nodded once. "Abby's still going?"

  "Yeah. With Finch."

  I managed a half smile. "Should that make me feel better?"

  Shepley shrugged. "It would me." He looked around my walls and nodded. "You put the pictures back up."

  I looked around, nodding once. "I don't know. It didn't feel right to just have them sitting in a bottom drawer."

  "I guess I'll see you later."

  "Hey, Shep?"

  "Yeah," he said, not turning around.

  "I really am sorry, cousin."

  Shepley sighed. "I know."

  The second he left, I walked into the kitchen to pour the last of the whiskey. The liquid amber sat still in the glass, waiting to offer comfo
rt.

  I shot it back and closed my eyes, considering a trip to the liquor store. But there wasn't enough whiskey in the universe to help me make my decision.

  "Fuck it," I said, grabbing my bike keys.

  After a stop at Ugly Fixer Liquor's, I drove the Harley over the curb and parked in the front yard of the fraternity house, opening the half-pint I'd just bought.

  Finding courage at the bottom of the bottle, I walked into Sig Tau. The entire house was covered in pink and red; cheap decorations were hung from the ceiling, and glitter covered the floor. The bass from the speakers downstairs hummed throughout the house, muffling the laughter and constant drone of conversation.

  Standing room only, I had to turn and maneuver my way through the crowd of couples, keeping an eye out for Shepley, America, Finch, or Abby. Mostly Abby. She wasn't standing in the kitchen, or in any of the other rooms. She wasn't on the balcony, either, so I made my way downstairs. My breath caught when I saw her.

  The beat of the music slowed, and her angel's smile was noticeable even across the dim basement. Her arms wrapped around Finch's neck, and he awkwardly moved with her to the music.

  My feet propelled me forward, and before I knew what I was doing, or stopped to think about the consequences, I found myself standing inches away from them.

  "Mind if I cut in, Finch?"

  Abby froze, her eyes flashing with recognition.

  Finch's eyes bounced between me and Abby. "Sure."

  "Finch," she hissed as he walked away.

  I pulled her against me and took a step.

  Abby kept dancing but kept as much space between us as possible. "I thought you weren't coming."

  "I wasn't, but I knew you were here. I had to come."

  With each passing minute, I expected her to walk away, and every minute she stayed in my arms felt like a miracle. "You look beautiful, Pidge."

  "Don't."

  "Don't what? Tell you you're beautiful?"

  "Just . . . don't."

  "I didn't mean it."

  "Thanks," she snapped.

  "No . . . you look beautiful. I meant that. I was talking about what I said in my room. I'm not going to lie. I enjoyed pulling you from your date with Parker . . ."

  "It wasn't a date, Travis. We were just eating. He won't speak to me now, thanks to you."

  "I heard. I'm sorry."

  "No you're not."

  "Y-you're right," I said, stuttering when I noticed she was getting angry. "But I . . . that wasn't the only reason I took you to the fight. I wanted you there with me, Pidge. You're my good luck charm."