At dinner, Parker talked about Harvard, and the House, and his plans to search for an apartment. His eyebrows pulled in. “Will Travis be escorting you to your birthday party?”
“I’m not really sure. He hasn’t said anything about it.”
“If he doesn’t mind, I’d like to take you.” He took my hand in his and kissed my fingers.
“I’ll ask him. The party was his idea, so….”
“I understand. If not, I’ll just see you there,” he smiled.
Parker took me to the apartment, slowing to a stop in the parking lot. When he kissed me goodbye, his lips lingered on mine. He yanked up the parking brake as his lips traveled along the ridge of my jaw to my ear, and then half-way down my neck. It took me off-guard, and I let out a quiet sigh in response.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I’ve been distracted all night, with your hair pulled away from your neck.” He peppered my neck with kisses and I exhaled, a hum escaping with my breath.
“What took you so long?” I smiled, lifting my chin to give him better access.
Parker focused on my lips. He grabbed each side of my face, kissing me a bit firmer than usual. We didn’t have much room in the car, but we made the space available work to our advantage. He leaned against me, and I bent my knee as I fell against the window. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, and his hand grabbed my ankle, and then slid up my leg to my thigh. The windows fogged within minutes with our labored breath, sticking to the cool windows. His lips grazed my collarbone, and then his head jerked up when the glass vibrated with several loud thumps.
Parker sat up, and I righted myself, adjusting my dress. I jumped when the door flew open. Travis and America stood beside the car. America wore a sympathetic frown, and Travis seemed just short of flying into a blind rage.
“What the hell, Travis?” Parker yelled.
The situation suddenly felt dangerous. I’d never heard Parker raise his voice, Travis’ knuckles were white as he balled them into fists at his sides—and I was in the way. America’s hand seemed tiny when she placed it on Travis’ bulky arm, shaking her head at Parker in silent warning.
“C’mon, Abby. I need to talk to you,” she said.
“About what?”
“Just come on!” she snapped.
I looked to Parker, seeing the irritation in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”
Travis helped me from the Porsche, and then kicked the door shut. I flipped around and stood between him and the car, shoving his shoulder. “What is wrong with you? Knock it off!”
America seemed nervous. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Travis reeked of whiskey; she had insisted on accompanying him, or he’d asked her to come. Either way she was a deterrent to violence.
The wheels of Parker’s shiny Porsche squealed out of the parking lot, and Travis lit a cigarette. “You can go in, now, Mare.”
She tugged on my skirt. “C’mon, Abby.”
“Why don’t you stay, Abs,” he seethed.
I nodded for America to go ahead and she reluctantly complied. I crossed my arms, ready for a fight, preparing myself to lash out at him after the inevitable lecture. Travis took several drags from his cigarette, and when it was obvious that he wasn’t going to explain, my patience ran out.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“Why? Because he was mauling you in front of my apartment!” he yelled. His eyes were unfocused, and I could see that he was incapable of rational conversation.
I kept my voice calm. “I may be staying with you, but what I do, and who I do it with is my business.”
He flicked his cigarette to the ground. “You’re so much better than that, Pidge. Don’t let him fuck you in a car like a cheap prom date.”
“I wasn’t going to have sex with him!”
He gestured to the empty space where Parker’s car sat. “What were you doing, then?”
“Haven’t you ever made out with someone, Travis? Haven’t you just messed around without letting it get that far?”