“Huh?”
“That’s lie number two.”
I looked around. Shepley would surely rescue me soon.
“You really fucked up last night,” she said, her eyes suddenly clear.
“I know.”
She squinted, glaring at me so intensely that I wanted to shrink back. America Mason was a tiny blond thing, but she was intimidating as fuck when she wanted to be. “You should walk away, Trav.” She looked up, to the top of the stairs. “He’s what she thinks she wants.”
My teeth clenched together. I already knew that, but it was worse hearing it from America. Before that, I thought maybe she’d be okay with me and Abby, and that somehow meant I wasn’t a complete dick for pursuing her. “I know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you do.”
I didn’t reply, trying not to make eye contact with her. She grabbed my chin with her hand, squashing my cheeks against my teeth.
“Do you?”
I tried to speak, but her fingers were now squishing my lips together. I jerked back, and then batted her hand away. “Probably not. I’m not exactly notorious for doing the right thing.”
America watched me for a few seconds, and then smiled. “Okay, then.”
“Huh?”
She slapped my cheek, and then pointed at me. “You, Mad Dog, are exactly what I came here to protect her from. But you know what? We’re all broken some way or another. Even with your epic fuckup, you just might be exactly what she needs. You get one more chance,” she said, holding up her index finger an inch from my nose. “Just one. Don’t mess it up . . . you know . . . more than usual.”
America sauntered away, and then disappeared down the hall.
She was so weird.
The party played out as they usually do: drama, a fight or two, girls getting in a tiff, a couple or two getting in an argument resulting in the female leaving in tears, and then the stragglers either passing out or vomiting in an undesignated area.
My eyes drifted to the top of the stairs more times than they should have. Even though the girls were practically begging me to take them home, I kept watch, trying not to imagine Abby and Parker making out, or even worse, him making her laugh.
“Hey, Travis,” a high-pitched, singsong voice called from behind me. I didn’t turn around, but it didn’t take long for the girl to weave herself into my line of sight. She leaned against the wooden posts of the banister. “You looked bored. I think I should keep you company.”
“Not bored. You can go,” I said, checking the top of the stairs again. Abby stood on the landing, her back to the stairs.
She giggled. “You’re so funny.”
Abby breezed past me, down the hall to where America stood. I followed, leaving the drunk girl to talk to herself.
“You guys go ahead,” Abby said with subdued excitement. “Parker offered me a ride home.”
“What?” America said, her tired eyes lit like double bonfires.
“What?” I said, unable to contain my irritation.
America turned. “Is there a problem?”
I glared at her. She knew exactly what my problem was. I took Abby by the elbow and pulled her around the corner.
“You don’t even know the guy.”
Abby pulled her arm away. “This is none of your business, Travis.”
“The hell if it’s not. I’m not letting you ride home with a complete stranger. What if he tries something on you?”
“Good! He’s cute!”
I couldn’t believe it. She was really falling for his game. “Parker Hayes, Pidge? Really? Parker Hayes. What kind of name is that, anyway?”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Stop it, Trav. You’re being a jerk.”
I leaned in, livid. “I’ll kill him if he touches you.”
“I like him.”
It was one thing to assume she was fooled, it was another to hear her admit it. She was too good for me—damn sure too good for Parker Hayes. Why was she getting all giddy over that idiot? My face tensed in reaction to the rage flowing through my veins. “Fine. If he ends up holding you down in the backseat of his car, don’t come crying to me.”
Her mouth popped open, she was offended and furious. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, shouldering past me.
I realized what I’d said, and then grabbed her arm and sighed, not quite turning around. “I didn’t mean it, Pidge. If he hurts you—if he even makes you feel uncomfortable—you let me know.”
Her shoulders fell. “I know you didn’t. But you have got to curb this overprotective big-brother thing you’ve got going on.”
I laughed once. She really didn’t get it. “I’m not playing the big brother, Pigeon. Not even close.”
Parker rounded the corner and pushed his hands inside his pockets. “All set?”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Abby said, taking Parker’s arm.
I fantasized about running up behind him and shoving my elbow in the back of his head, but then Abby turned and saw me staring him down.