CHAPTER THREE
White Knight
SHEPLEY STOOD AT THE DOOR LIKE A LOVESICK IDIOT, waving to America as she pulled out of the parking lot. He shut the door, and then collapsed in the recliner with the most ridiculous smile on his face.
“You’re dumb,” I said.
“Me? You should have seen you. Abby couldn’t get out of here quick enough.”
I frowned. Abby didn’t seem in a hurry to me, but now that Shepley had said something, I remembered that she was pretty quiet when we got back. “You think so?”
Shepley laughed, stretching back in the chair and pulling the footrest up. “She hates you. Give it up.”
“She doesn’t hate me. I nailed that date—dinner.”
Shepley’s eyebrows shot up. “Date? Trav. What are you doing? Because if this is just a game to you and you f*ck this up for me, I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”
I fell against the couch and grabbed the remote. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m not doing that.”
Shepley looked confused. I wouldn’t let him see that I was just as baffled as he was.
“I wasn’t kidding,” he said, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. “I’ll smother you.”
“I heard you,” I snapped. The whole feeling-out-of-my-element thing was pissing me off, and then I had Pepé Le Pew over there threatening my death. Shepley with a crush was annoying. Shepley in love was almost intolerable.
“Remember Anya?”
“It’s not like that,” Shepley said, exasperated. “It’s different with Mare. She’s the one.”
“You know that after a couple of months?” I asked, dubious.
“I knew it when I saw her.”
I shook my head. I hated it when he was like this. Unicorns and butterflies flying out of his ass and hearts floating in the air. He always ended up getting his heart broken, and then I had to make sure he didn’t drink himself to death for six months solid. America seemed to like it, though.
Whatever. No woman could make me blubber and get slobbering drunk over losing her. If they didn’t stick around, they weren’t worth it anyway.
Shepley stood and stretched, and then ambled toward his room.
“You’re full of shit, Shep.”
“How would you know?” he asked.
He was right. I’d never been in love, but I couldn’t imagine it changing me that much.
I decided to turn in, too. I stripped down and lay back on the mattress in a huff. The second my head hit the pillow, I thought of Abby. Our conversation replayed verbatim in my mind. A few times she had showed a glint of interest. She didn’t totally hate me, and that helped me relax. I wasn’t exactly apologetic about my reputation, but she didn’t expect me to pretend. Women didn’t make me nervous. Abby made me feel distracted and focused at the same time. Agitated and relaxed. Pissed off and damn near giddy. I’d never felt so at odds with myself. Something about that feeling made me want to be around her more.
After two hours of staring at the ceiling, wondering if I would see her the next day, I decided to get up and find the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the kitchen.
The shot glasses were clean in the dishwasher, so I pulled out one and filled it to the brim. After hammering it back, I poured another. I tossed it back, set the glass in the sink, and turned around. Shepley stood in his doorway with a smirk on his face.
“And so it begins.”
“The day you appeared on our family tree, I wanted to cut it down.”
Shepley laughed once and shut his door.
I trudged to my bedroom, pissed that I couldn’t argue.
MORNING CLASSES TOOK FOREVER, AND I WAS A LITTLE disgusted with myself that I had all but run to the cafeteria. I didn’t even know if Abby would be there.
But, she was.
Brazil was sitting directly across from her, chatting it up with Shepley. A smirk touched my face, and then I sighed, both relieved and resigned to the fact that I was lame.
The lunch lady filled my tray with god-knows-what, and then I walked over to the table, standing directly across from Abby.
“You’re sittin’ in my chair, Brazil.”
“Oh, is she one of your girls, Trav?”
Abby shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
I waited, and then Brazil complied, taking his tray to an empty seat at the end of the long table.
“What’s up, Pidge?” I asked, waiting for her to spit venom in my direction. To my extreme surprise, she showed no signs of anger.
“What is that?” She stared at my tray.
I looked down at the steaming concoction. She was making random conversation. Yet another good sign. “The cafeteria ladies scare me. I’m not about to critique their cooking skills.”
Abby watched me poke around with my fork for something edible, and then seemed distracted by the murmurings of those around us. Granted, it was new for my fellow students to see me make a fuss over sitting across from someone. I still wasn’t sure why I did.
“Ugh . . . that bio test is after lunch.” America groaned.
“Did you study?” Abby asked.
America’s nose wrinkled. “God, no. I spent the night reassuring my boyfriend that you weren’t going to sleep with Travis.”
Shepley immediately became sullen at the mention of the previous night’s conversation.
The football players seated at the end of our table quieted down to hear our conversation, and Abby sunk down into her seat, shooting a glare at America.
She was embarrassed. For whatever reason, she was mortified by any attention whatsoever.
America ignored Abby and nudged Shepley with her shoulder, but Shepley’s frown didn’t fade.
“Jesus, Shep. You’ve got it that bad, huh?” I threw a packet of ketchup at him, trying to lighten the mood. The surrounding students turned their attention to Shepley and America then, hoping for something to talk about.
Shepley didn’t answer, but Abby’s gray eyes peeked up at me over a small smile. I was on a roll today. She couldn’t hate me if she tried. I don’t know why I was so worried. It wasn’t like I wanted to date her or anything. She just seemed like the perfect platonic experiment. She was basically a good girl—albeit slightly angry—and didn’t need me f*cking up her five-year plan. If she had one.
America rubbed Shepley’s back. “He’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take him a while to believe Abby is resistant to your charms.”
“I haven’t tried to charm her,” I said. I was just getting ahead, and America was sinking my battleship. “She’s my friend.”
Abby looked to Shepley. “I told you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Shepley met Abby’s eyes, and then his expression smoothed. Crisis averted. Abby saved the day.
I waited for a minute, trying to think of something to say. I wanted to ask Abby to come over later, but it would be lame after America’s comment. A brilliant idea popped into my head, and I didn’t hesitate. “Did you study?”
Abby frowned. “No amount of studying is going to help me with biology. It’s just not something I can wrap my head around.”
I stood, nodding toward the door. “C’mon.”
“What?”
“Let’s go get your notes. I’m going to help you study.”
“Travis . . .”
“Get your ass up, Pidge. You’re gonna ace that test.”
The next three seconds might have been the longest of my life. Abby finally stood. She passed America and tugged on her hair. “See you in class, Mare.”
She smiled. “I’ll save you a seat. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
I held the door open for her as we left the cafeteria, but she didn’t seem to notice. Again, I was only horrifically disappointed.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept pace with her during the short walk to Morgan Hall, and then I watched as she fidgeted with her door key.
Abby finally pushed the door open, and then tossed her biology book onto the bed. She sat down and crossed her legs, and I fell onto the mattress, noting how stiff and uncomfortable it was. No wonder all the girls at this school were cranky. They couldn’t possibly get a good night’s rest on these damn mattresses. Jesus.
Abby turned to the correct page of her textbook, and I went to work. We went over the key points of the chapter. It was kind of cool how she watched me while I talked. Almost like she was both hanging on to every word, and amazed that I knew how to read. A few times I could tell by her expression that she didn’t understand, so I’d go back over it, and then her eyes would brighten. I started working hard for the lights-on look on her face after that.
Before I knew it, it was time for her to go to class. I sighed, and then smacked her playfully on the head with her study guide.
“You got this. You know this study guide backward and forward.”
“Well . . . we’ll see.”
“I’m going to walk you to class. I’ll quiz you on the way.” I waited for a polite rejection, but she offered a small smile and nodded.
We walked into the hall, and she sighed. “You’re not going to be mad if I flunk this test, are you?”
She was worried if I was going to be mad at her? I wasn’t sure what I should think about that, but it felt pretty f*cking awesome.
“You’re not going to flunk, Pidge. We need to start earlier for the next one, though,” I said, walking along with her to the science building. I asked her question after question. She answered most right away, some she hesitated about, but she got them all correct.
We reached the door of her classroom, and I could see the appreciation on her face. She was too proud to admit it, though.
“Kick ass,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.
Parker Hayes passed by and nodded. “Hey, Trav.”
I hated that douche. “Parker,” I said, nodding back.
Parker was one of those guys that liked to follow me around and use his White Knight status to get laid. He liked to refer to me as a womanizer, but the truth was, Parker just played a more sophisticated game. He wasn’t honest about his conquests. He pretended to care and then let them down easy.
One night our freshman year, I took Janet Littleton home from the Red Door to my apartment. Parker was trying to get lucky with her friend. We went our separate ways from the club, and after I bagged her and didn’t pretend to want a relationship afterward, she called her friend all pissed off to come get her. The friend was still with Parker, so he ended up taking Janet home.
After that, Parker had a new story to tell his conquests. Whatever girl I bagged, he usually swept up my sloppy seconds by recounting the time he saved Janet.
I tolerated him, but only just barely.
Parker’s eyes targeted Pigeon and immediately lit up. “Hey, Abby.”
I didn’t understand why Parker was so insistent on seeing if he could land the same girls I did, but he’d had class with her for several weeks and was just now showing interest. Knowing it was because he saw her talking to me nearly sent me into a fury.
“Hi,” Abby said, taken off guard. She clearly didn’t know why he was suddenly talking to her. It was written all over her face. “Who’s that?” she asked me.
I shrugged casually, but I wanted to tear across the room and beat his preppy ass. “Parker Hayes,” I said. His name left a bad taste in my mouth. “He’s one of my Sig Tau brothers.” That left a bad taste, too. I had brothers, both frat and blood. Parker felt like neither. More like an archenemy that you kept close enough to keep an eye on.
“You’re in a frat?” she asked, her little nose wrinkling up.
“Sigma Tau, same as Shep. I thought you knew.”
“Well . . . you don’t seem the . . . fraternity type,” she said, eyeing the tattoos on my forearms.
The fact that Abby’s eyes were back on me immediately put me in a better mood. “My dad is an alumnus, and my brothers are all Sig Tau. It’s a family thing.”
“And they expected you to pledge?” she asked, skeptical.
“Not really. They’re just good guys,” I said, flicking her papers. I handed them to her. “Better get to class.”
She flashed that flawless smile. “Thanks for helping me.” She nudged me with her elbow, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
She walked into the classroom and sat next to America. Parker was staring at her, watching the girls talking. I fantasized about picking up a desk and hurling it at his head as I walked down the hall. With no more classes for the day, there was no reason for me to stick around. A long ride on the Harley would help keep the thought of Parker sleazing his way into Abby’s good graces from driving me crazy, so I made sure to take the long way home to give me more time to think. A few couch-worthy coeds crossed my path, but Abby’s face kept popping into my mind—so many times that I began to annoy myself.
I had notoriously been a piece of shit to every girl with whom I’d had a private conversation over the age of sixteen—since I was fifteen. Our story might have been typical: Bad boy falls for good girl, but Abby was no princess. She was hiding something. Maybe that was our connection: whatever it was that she had left behind.
I pulled into the apartment parking lot and climbed off the bike. So much for thinking better on the Harley. Everything I’d just unraveled in my head made no f*cking sense. I was just trying to justify my weird obsession with her.
Suddenly in a very bad mood, I slammed the door behind me and sat on the couch, and became even more pissed off when I couldn’t find the remote right away.
Black plastic landed beside me as Shepley passed to sit in the recliner. I picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, turning it on.
“Why do you take the remote to your bedroom? You just have to bring it back in here,” I snapped.
“I don’t know, man, it’s just habit. What’s your problem?”
“I don’t know,” I grumbled, flipping on the TV. I pressed the mute button. “Abby Abernathy.”
Shepley’s eyebrow pushed up. “What about her?”
“She gets under my skin. I think I just need to bag her and get it over with.”
Shepley eyed me for a while, unsure. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you not f*cking up my life with your newfound restraint, but you’ve never needed my permission before . . . unless . . . don’t tell me you finally give a shit about someone.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
Shepley couldn’t contain his grin. “You care about her. I guess it just took a girl refusing to sleeping with you for more than a twenty-four-hour period.”
“Laura made me wait a week.”
“Abby won’t give you the time of day, though?”
“She just wants to be friends. I guess I’m lucky she doesn’t treat me like a leper.”
After an awkward silence, Shepley nodded. “You’re scared.”
“Of what?” I asked with a dubious smirk.
“Rejection. Mad Dog is one of us after all.”
My eye twitched. “You know I f*cking hate that, Shep.”
Shepley smiled. “I know. Almost as much as you hate the way you feel right now.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.”
“So you like her and you’re scared. Now what?”
“Nothing. It just sucks that I finally found the girl worth having and she’s too good for me.”
Shepley tried to stifle a laugh. It was irritating that he was so amused about my predicament. He straightened his smile and then said, “Why don’t you let her make that decision for herself?”
“Because I care about her just enough to want to make it for he r.”
Shepley stretched and then stood, his bare feet dragging across the carpet. “You want a beer?”
“Yeah. Let’s drink to friendship.”
“So you’re going to keep hanging out with her? Why? That sounds like torture to me.”
I thought about it for a minute. It did sound like torture, but not as bad as just watching her from afar. “I don’t want her to end up with me . . . or any other dick.”
“You mean or anyone else. Dude, that’s nuts.”
“Get my f*ckin’ beer and shut up.”
Shepley shrugged. Unlike Chris Jenks, Shepley knew when to shut up.