Walking Disaster (Beautiful Disaster #2)

“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 fuck, 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 asshole thing to do.”

“We’re just friends.”

Shepley shot a dubious smirk in my direction. “Friends talk about a weekend fuck. 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 fuck 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.

Jamie McGuire's books