Walking Disaster

“But you’re the only one that gets to find out,” she lilted. When I didn’t respond, she leaned back to look me in the eyes. “Do you really want me to change?”

I scanned her face, and every other part of her, and then exhaled. “No matter what you wear, you’re gorgeous. I should just get used to it, now, right?” Abby shrugged, and I shook my head. “All right, we’re already late. Let’s go.”

I KEPT MY ARMS AROUND ABBY AS WE WALKED ACROSS the lawn to the Sigma Tau house. Abby was shivering, so I walked quickly and awkwardly with her in tow, trying to get her out of the cold as fast as her high heels would allow. The second we pushed through the thick, double doors, I immediately popped a cigarette in my mouth to add to the typical frat party haze. The bass from the speakers downstairs buzzed like a heartbeat under our feet.

After Shepley and I took care of the girls’ coats, I led Abby to the kitchen, with Shepley and America just behind. We stood there, beers in hand, listening to Jay Gruber and Brad Pierce discuss my last fight. Lexie pawed at Brad’s shirt, clearly bored with the man talk.

“Dude, you got your girl’s name on your wrist? What in the hell possessed you to do that?” Brad said.

I turned over my hand to reveal Abby’s nickname. “I’m crazy about her,” I said, looking down at Abby.

“You barely know her,” Lexie scoffed.

“I know her.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Shepley pull America toward the stairs, so I took Abby’s hand and followed. Unfortunately, Brad and Lexie did the same. In a line, we descended the stairs to the basement, the music growing louder with each step.

The second my feet hit the last stair, the DJ played a slow song. Without hesitation, I pulled Abby onto the concrete dance floor, lined with furniture that had been pushed to the side for the party.

Abby’s head fit perfectly in the crook of my neck. “I’m glad I never went to one of these things before,” I said in her ear. “It’s right that I’ve only brought you.”

Abby pressed her cheek against my chest, and her fingers pressed into my shoulders.

“Everyone’s staring at you in this dress,” I said. “I guess it’s kinda cool . . . being with the girl everyone wants.”

Abby leaned back to make a show of rolling her eyes. “They don’t want me. They’re curious why you want me. And anyway, I feel sorry for anyone that thinks they have a chance. I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.”

How could she even wonder? “You know why I want you? I didn’t know I was lost until you found me. I didn’t know what alone was until the first night I spent without you in my bed. You’re the one thing I’ve got right. You’re what I’ve been waiting for, Pigeon.”

Abby reached up to take my face between her hands, and I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her off the floor. Our lips pressed together gently, and as she worked her lips against mine, I made sure to silently communicate how much I loved her in that kiss, because I could never get it right with just words.

After a few songs and one hostile, yet entertaining moment between Lexie and America, I decided it was a good time to head upstairs. “C’mon, Pidge. I need a smoke.”

Abby followed me up the stairs. I made sure to grab her coat before continuing to the balcony. The second we stepped outside, I paused, as did Abby, and Parker, and the makeup-spackled girl he was fingering.

The first move was made by Parker, who pulled his hand from underneath the girl’s skirt.

“Abby,” he said, surprised and breathless.

“Hey, Parker,” Abby replied, choking back a laugh.

“How, uh . . . how have you been?”

She smiled politely. “I’ve been great, you?”

“Uh”—he looked at his date—“Abby this is Amber. Amber . . . Abby.”

“Abby Abby?” she asked.

Parker gave one quick, uncomfortable nod. Amber shook Abby’s hand with a disgusted look on her face, and then eyed me as if she had just encountered the enemy. “Nice to meet you . . . I guess.”

“Amber,” Parker warned.

I laughed once, and then opened the doors for them to walk through. Parker grabbed Amber’s hand and retreated into the house.

“That was . . . awkward,” Abby said, shaking her head and folding arms around her. She looked over the edge at the few couples braving the winter wind.

“At least he’s moved on from trying his damndest to get you back,” I said, smiling.

“I don’t think he was trying to get me back so much as trying to keep me away from you.”

“He took one girl home for me once. Now he acts like he’s made a habit of swooping in and saving every freshman I bagged.”

Abby shot me a wry look from the corner of her eye. “Did I ever tell you how much I loathe that word?”

“Sorry,” I said, pulling her into my side. I lit a cigarette and took a deep breath, turning over my hand. The delicate but thick black lines of ink weaved together to form Pigeon. “How weird is it that this tat isn’t just my new favorite, but it makes me feel at ease to know it’s there?”

“Pretty weird,” Abby said. I shot her a look, and she laughed. “I’m kidding. I can’t say I understand it, but it’s sweet . . . in a Travis Maddox sort of way.”

“If it feels this good to have this on my arm, I can’t imagine how it’s going to feel to get a ring on your finger.”

“Travis . . .”

“In four, or maybe five years,” I said, inwardly cringing that I went that far.

Abby took a breath. “We need to slow down. Way, way down.”

“Don’t start this, Pidge.”

“If we keep going at this pace, I’m going to be barefoot and pregnant before I graduate. I’m not ready to move in with you, I’m not ready for a ring, and I’m certainly not ready to settle down.”

I gently cupped her shoulders. “This isn’t the ‘I wanna see other people’ speech, is it? Because I’m not sharing you. No f**king way.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she said, exasperated.

I relaxed and released her shoulders, turning to grip the railing. “What are you saying, then?” I asked, terrified of her answer.

“I’m saying we need to slow down. That’s all I’m saying.”

I nodded, unhappy.

Abby reached for my arm. “Don’t be mad.”

“It seems like we take one step forward and two steps back, Pidge. Every time I think we’re on the same page, you put up a wall. I don’t get it . . . most girls are hounding their boyfriends to get serious, to talk about their feelings, to take the next step . . .”

“I thought we established that I’m not most girls?”

I dropped my head, frustrated. “I’m tired of guessing. Where do you see this going, Abby?”

She pressed her lips against my shirt. “When I think about my future, I see you.”

I hugged her to my side, every muscle in my body immediately relaxing with her words. We both watched the night clouds move across the starless, black sky. The laughter and humming of the voices below sparked a smile across Abby’s face. I watched the same partygoers she did, huddling together and rushing into the house from the street.

For the first time that day, the ominous feeling hovering over me began to fade away.