Beautiful Disaster 01 (50 page)

I tipped back my head, letting the liquid flow down my throat. My face compressed as the whiskey burned its way to my stomach. “Thanks,” I said, handing the glass back to Shepley.

“I should have gotten to her sooner. I didn’t even realize she was gone. I’m sorry, Abby. I should’ve….”

“It’s not your fault, Shep. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“It’s Ethan’s fault,” he seethed. “That sick bastard was dry fucking her against the wall.”

“Baby!” America said, pulling me to her side.

“I need another drink,” I said, shoving my empty glass at Shepley.

“Me, too,” Shepley said, returning to the kitchen.

Travis walked in with a towel around his waist, holding a cold can of beer against his eye. America left the room without a word as Travis slipped on his boxers, and then he grabbed his pillow. Shepley brought four glasses this time, all full to the brim with amber liquor. We all knocked back the whiskey without hesitation.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” America said, kissing my cheek.

Travis took my glass, sitting it on the night stand. He watched me for a moment and then walked over to his closet, pulling a t-shirt off the hanger and tossing it to the bed.

“I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up,” he said, holding the beer to his eye.

“You look awful. You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

He shook his head, disgusted. “Abby, you were attacked tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s hard not to when your eye is swelling shut,” I said, situating his shirt on my lap.

His jaw tensed. “It wouldn’t’ve happened if I’d just let you stay with Parker. But I knew if I asked you, you’d come. I wanted to show him that you were still mine, and then you get hurt.”

The words took me off-guard, as if I hadn’t heard him right. “That’s why you ask me to come tonight? To prove a point to
Parker
?”

“It was part of it,” he said, ashamed.

The blood drained from my face. For the first time since we’d met, Travis had fooled me. I had gone to Hellerton with him thinking he needed me, thinking that despite everything, we were back to where we were before. I was nothing more than a water hydrant; he had marked his territory, and I had allowed him to do it.

My eyes filled with tears. “Get out.”

“Pigeon,” he said, taking a step toward me.

“Get OUT!” I said, grabbing the glass from the night stand and throwing it at him. He ducked, and it shattered against the wall in hundreds of tiny, glistening shards. “I
hate
you!”

Travis heaved as if the air had been knocked out of him, and with a pained expression, he left me alone.

I yanked off my clothes and pulled the t-shirt on. The noise that burst from my throat surprised me. It had been a long time since I had sobbed uncontrollably. Within moments, America rushed into the room.

She crawled into the bed and wrapped her arms around me. She didn’t ask me questions or try to console me, she only held me as I let the tears drench the pillow case.

CHAPTER TWENTY

last dance

Just before the sun breached the horizon, America and I quietly left the apartment behind. We didn’t speak on the way to Morgan, and I was glad for the silence. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to think, I just wanted to block out the last twelve hours. My body felt heavy and sore, as if I’d been in a car accident. When we walked into my room, I saw that Kara’s bed was made.

“Can I borrow your flat iron?” America asked.

“Mare, I’m fine. Go to class.”

“You’re not fine. I don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

“That’s all I want to be at the moment.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but sighed. There would be no changing my mind. “I’m coming back to check on you after class. Get some rest.”

I nodded, locking the door behind her. The bed squeaked beneath me as I fell onto it with a huff. . All along I believed that I was important to Travis; that he needed me. But in that moment, I felt like the shiny new toy Parker said I was. He wanted to prove to Parker that I was still his.
His.

“I’m
nobody’s
,” I said to the empty room.

As the words sunk in, I was overwhelmed with the grief I’d felt from the night before. I belonged to no one.

I’d never felt so alone in my life.

Finch sat a brown bottle in front of me. Neither of us felt like celebrating, but I was at least comforted by the fact that, according to America, Travis would avoid the date party at all costs. Red and pink craft paper covered empty beer cans hanging from the ceiling, and red dresses in every style walked past. The tables were covered with tiny foil hearts, and Finch rolled his eyes at the ridiculous decorations.

“Valentine’s Day at a frat house. Romantic,” he said, watching the couples walk by.

Shepley and America had been downstairs dancing from the moment we arrived, and Finch and I protested our presence by pouting in the kitchen. I drank the contents of the bottle quickly, determined to blur the memories of the last date party I’d attended.

Finch popped open another cap and handed me another, aware of my desperation to forget. “I’ll get more,” he said, returning to the fridge.

“The keg is for guests, the bottles are for Sig Tau,” a girl sneered beside me.

I looked down at the red cup in her hand. “Or maybe your boyfriend just told you that because he was counting on a cheap date.”

She narrowed her eyes and pushed away from the counter, taking her cup elsewhere.

“Who was that?” Finch asked, setting down four more bottles.

“Random sorority bitch,” I said, watching her walk away.

By the time Shepley and America rejoined us, there were six empty bottles on the table beside me. My teeth were numb, and it felt a bit easier to smile. I was more comfortable, leaning against my spot on the counter. Travis had proven to be a no-show, and I could survive the remainder of the party in peace.

“Are you guys going to dance or what?” America asked.

I looked to Finch. “Are you going to dance with me, Finch?”

“Are you going to be able to dance?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I said, pulling him downstairs.

We bounced and shook until a thin sheen of sweat began to form under my dress. Just when I thought my lungs would burst, a slow song came over the speakers. Finch peered uncomfortably around us, glancing to the people pairing off and getting close.

“You’re going to make me dance to this, aren’t you?” he asked.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Finch. Pretend I’m a boy.”

He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “It’s hard to do that when you’re wearing a short pink dress.”

“Whatever. Like you’ve never seen a boy in a dress.”

Finch shrugged. “True.”

I giggled, resting my head against his shoulder. The alcohol made my body feel heavy and sluggish as I tried to move to the slow tempo.

“Mind if I cut in, Finch?”

Travis stood beside us, half amused, half prepared for my reaction. The blood under my cheeks immediately burst into flames.

Finch looked at me, and then at Travis. “Sure.”

“Finch,” I hissed as he walked away. Travis pulled me against him and I tried to keep as much between space between us as possible. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t, but I knew you were here. I had to come.”

I looked around the room, avoiding his eyes. Every movement he made, I was acutely aware of. The pressure changes of his fingers at the points where he touched me, his feet shuffling beside mine, his arms shifting, brushing against my dress. I felt ridiculous pretending not to notice. His eye was healing, the bruise had almost vanished, and the red blotches on his face were absent as if I had imagined them. All evidence of that horrible night had disappeared, leaving only the stinging memories.

He watched my every breath, and when the song was half-over, he sighed. “You look beautiful, Pidge.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you you’re beautiful?”

“Just…don’t.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

I huffed in frustration. “Thanks.”

“No…you look beautiful. I meant that. I was talking about what I said in my room. I’m not going to lie. I enjoyed pulling you from your date with Parker….”

“It wasn’t a date, Travis. We were just eating. He won’t speak to me now, thanks to you.”

“I heard. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“Y…You’re right,” he said, stuttering when he saw my impatient expression. “But I…that wasn’t the only reason I took you to the fight. I wanted you there with me, Pidge. You’re my good luck charm.”

“I’m not your anything,” I snapped, glaring up at him.

His eyebrows pulled in and he stopped dancing. “You’re my
everything
.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep the anger at the surface, but it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at me that way.

“You don’t really hate me…do you?” he asked.

I turned away from him, putting more distance in between us. “Sometimes I wish that I did. It would make everything a whole hell of a lot easier.”

A cautious smile spread across his lips in a thin, subtle line. “So what pisses you off more? What I did to make you wanna hate me? Or knowing that you can’t?”

The anger returned. I shoved past him, running up the stairs to the kitchen. My eyes were beginning to gloss over but I refused to be a sobbing mess at the date party. Finch stood beside the table and I sighed with relief when he handed me another beer.

For the next hour, I watched Travis fend off girls and suck down shots of whiskey in the living room. Each time he caught my eye, I looked away from him, determined to get through the night without a scene.

“You two look miserable,” Shepley said.

“They couldn’t look more bored if they were doing it on purpose,” America grumbled.

“Don’t forget…we didn’t want to come,” Finch reminded them.

America made her famous face that I was just as famous for giving in to. “You could pretend, Abby. For me.”

Just when I opened my mouth for a sharp retort, Finch touched my arm. “I think we’ve done our duty. You ready to go, Abby?”