She tipped her head back, and let the tequila flow down her throat. The entire party erupted into whistles and yells behind us as Brazil handed her the stack of money.
“Thank you,” she said with pride, tucking the money away in her bra.
I’d never seen anything like it in my life. “You are incredibly sexy right now,” I said in her ear as we walked to the living room.
She wrapped her arms around me, probably letting the tequila settle.
“You sure you’re okay?”
She meant to say “I’m fine,” but the words came out garbled.
“You need to make her go throw up, Trav. Get some of that out of her system.”
“God, Shep. Leave her alone. She’s fine,” America said, annoyed.
Shepley’s brows pulled in. “I’m just trying to keep something really bad from happening.”
“Abby? You okay?” America asked.
Abby managed a smile, looking half asleep.
America looked at Shepley. “Just let it run through her system, she’ll sober up. It’s not her first rodeo. Calm down.”
“Unbelievable,” Shepley said. “Travis?”
I touched my cheek to Abby’s forehead. “Pidge? You want to play it safe and purge?”
“No,” she said. “I wanna dance.” She wrapped her arms around me tighter.
I looked at Shepley and shrugged. “As long as she’s up and moving . . .”
Unhappy, Shepley barreled through the crowd on the makeshift dance floor until he was out of sight. America clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, and then followed after him.
Abby pressed her body against mine. Even though the song was fast, we were slow dancing in the middle of the room, surrounded by people bouncing around and waving their arms. Blue, purple, and green lights danced with us, on the floor and along the walls. The blue lights reflected on Abby’s face, and I had to really concentrate through the liquor not to kiss her.
When the party began to wind down a few hours later, Abby and I were still on the dance floor. She had sobered up a bit after I fed her some crackers and cheese, and tried to dance with America to some stupid pop song, but other than that, Abby was in my arms, her wrists locked behind my neck.
The bulk of the party had either left or passed out somewhere in the apartment, and Shepley and America’s bickering had gradually gotten worse.
“If you’re riding with me, I’m leaving,” Shepley said, tearing toward the door.
“I’m not ready to leave,” Abby mumbled, her eyes half closed.
“I think this night is spent. Let’s go home.” When I took a step toward the door, Abby didn’t move. She was staring at the floor, looking a bit green.
“You’re going to throw up, aren’t you?”
She looked up at me, her eyes half closed. “It’s about that time.”
She weaved back and forth a few times before I scooped her up in my arms.
“You, Travis Maddox, are kinda sexy when you’re not being a whore,” she said, a ridiculous, drunken grin twisting her mouth in different directions.
“Uh . . . thanks,” I said, readjusting her so I had a better grip.
Abby touched her palm to my cheek. “You know what, Mr. Maddox?”
“What, baby?”
Her expression turned serious. “In another life, I could love you.”
I watched her for a moment, staring into her glassed-over eyes. She was drunk, but just for a moment it didn’t seem wrong to pretend that she meant it.
“I might love you in this one.”
She tilted her head, and pressed her lips against the corner of my mouth. She’d meant to kiss me, but missed. She pulled back, and then let her head fall against my shoulder.
I looked around, and everyone still conscious was frozen, staring in shock at what they’d just witnessed.
Without a word, I carried her out of the apartment to the Charger, where America stood, her arms crossed.
Shepley gestured to Abby. “Look at her! She’s your friend, and you let her do something insanely dangerous! You encouraged it!”
America pointed at herself. “I know her, Shep! I’ve seen her do way more than that for money!”
I shot her a glance.
“Shots. I’ve seen her do more shots for money,” she qualified. “You know what I mean.”
“Listen to yourself!” Shepley yelled. “You followed Abby all the way from Kansas to keep her out of trouble. Look at her! She has a dangerous level of alcohol in her system, and she is unconscious! That isn’t behavior you should be okay with!”
America’s eyes narrowed. “Oh! Thanks for the public service announcement about what not to do in college, Mr. Eighteen-year-old-frat-boy-with-eleventy-billion-‘serious’-girlfriends-under-his-belt!” She used her fingers to mark invisible quotations when she said serious.
Shepley’s mouth popped open, unamused. “Get in the fucking car. You’re a mean drunk.”
America laughed. “You haven’t seen me mean, mama’s boy!”
“I told you we’re close!”
“Yeah, so are me and my asshole! Doesn’t mean I’m going to call it twice a day!”
“You’re a bitch!”