“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,” he said, stuttering when he saw my impatient expression. “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.”
“I’m not your anything,” I snapped, glaring up at him.
His eyebrows pulled in and he stopped dancing. “You’re my everything.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to keep the anger at the surface, but it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at me that way.
“You don’t really hate me…do you?” he asked.
I turned away from him, putting more distance in between us. “Sometimes I wish that I did. It would make everything a whole hell of a lot easier.”
A cautious smile spread across his lips in a thin, subtle line. “So what pisses you off more? What I did to make you wanna hate me? Or knowing that you can’t?”
The anger returned. I shoved past him, running up the stairs to the kitchen. My eyes were beginning to gloss over but I refused to be a sobbing mess at the date party. Finch stood beside the table and I sighed with relief when he handed me another beer.
For the next hour, I watched Travis fend off girls and suck down shots of whiskey in the living room. Each time he caught my eye, I looked away from him, determined to get through the night without a scene.
“You two look miserable,” Shepley said.
“They couldn’t look more bored if they were doing it on purpose,” America grumbled.
“Don’t forget…we didn’t want to come,” Finch reminded them.
America made her famous face that I was just as famous for giving in to. “You could pretend, Abby. For me.”
Just when I opened my mouth for a sharp retort, Finch touched my arm. “I think we’ve done our duty. You ready to go, Abby?”
I drank the remainder of my beer in a quick swig and then took Finch’s hand. As anxious as I was to leave, my legs froze when the same song that Travis and I danced to at my birthday party floated up the stairs. I grabbed Finch’s bottle and took another swig, trying to block out the memories that came with the music.
Brad leaned against the counter beside me. “Wanna dance?”
I smiled at him, shaking my head. He began to say something else, but he was interrupted.
“Dance with me.” Travis stood a few feet from me, his hand outstretched to mine.
America, Shepley and Finch were all staring at me, waiting for my answer as anxiously as Travis.
“Leave me alone, Travis,” I said, crossing my arms.
“This is our song, Pidge.”
“We don’t have a song.”
“Pigeon….”
“No.”
I looked to Brad and forced a smile. “I would love to dance, Brad.”
Brad’s freckles stretched across his cheeks as he smiled, gesturing for me to lead the way to the stairs.
Travis staggered backward, the hurt plainly displayed in his eyes. “A toast!” he yelled.
I flinched, turning just in time to see him climbing onto a chair, stealing a beer from the shocked Sig Tau brother closest to him. I glanced to America, who was watching Travis with a pained expression.
“To douchebags!” he said, gesturing to Brad. “And to girls that break your heart,” he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. “And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.”
He tilted back the beer, finishing what was left, and then tossed it to the floor. The room was silent except for the music playing in the lower level, and everyone stared at Travis in mass confusion.
Mortified, I grabbed Brad’s hand and led him downstairs to the dance floor. A few couples followed behind us, watching me closely for tears or some other response to Travis’ tirade. I smoothed my features, refusing to give them what they wanted.