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Authors: Jamie McGuire
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the
morning were Shepley’s, and I didn’t look at any of them close enough to have an opinion.
Shepley grabbed some plates and held them in front of me. I scooped up eggs in the spatula and flopped them onto each plate. Abby watched with mild interest.
America puffed as Shepley sat the plate in front of her. “Don’t look at me like that, Shep. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go.”
Shepley had been moping for days about America’s rejection of his invitation to the date party. I didn’t blame her. Date parties were torture. The fact that she didn’t want to
go was kinda impressive. Most girls fell all over themselves to be invited to those things.
“Baby,” Shepley whined, “the House has a date party twice a year. It’s a month away. You’ll have plenty of time to find a dress and do all that girl
stuff.”
America wasn’t going for it. I tuned them out until I realized America had agreed to go only if Abby would. If Abby went, that meant she’d go with a date. America looked to me, and I
raised an eyebrow.
Shepley didn’t hesitate. “Trav doesn’t go to the date parties. It’s something you take your girlfriend to . . . and Travis doesn’t . . . you know.”
America shrugged. “We could set her up with someone.”
I started to speak up, but Abby clearly wasn’t happy. “I can hear you, you know,” she grumbled.
America pouted. That was the face Shepley couldn’t deny.
“Please, Abby? We’ll find you a nice guy who’s funny and witty, and you know I’ll make sure he’s hot. I promise you’ll have a good time! And who knows? Maybe
you’ll hit it off.”
I frowned. America would find her a guy? For the date party. One of my frat brothers. Oh, fuck, no. The thought of her hitting it off with
anyone
made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand on end.
The pan made a clanging noise when I threw it into the sink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take her.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t do me any favors, Travis.”
I took a step. “That’s not what I meant, Pidge. Date parties are for the guys with girlfriends, and it’s common knowledge that I don’t do the girlfriend thing. But I
won’t have to worry about you expecting an engagement ring afterward.”
America pouted again. “Pretty please, Abby?”
Abby looked like she was in pain. “Don’t look at me like that! Travis doesn’t want to go. I don’t want to go . . . we won’t be much fun.”
The more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the sink. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I think it’d be fun if
the four of us went.”
Abby recoiled when all eyes turned to her. “Why don’t we hang out here?”
I was okay with that.
America’s shoulders slumped, and Shepley leaned forward.
“Because I have to go, Abby,” Shepley said. “I’m a freshman. I have to make sure everything’s running smoothly, everyone has a beer in their hand, things like
that.”
Abby was mortified. She clearly didn’t want to go, but what scared me was that she couldn’t say no to America, and Shepley was willing to say anything for his girlfriend to go. If
Abby didn’t go with me, she could end up spending the evening—or night—with one of my frat brothers. They weren’t bad guys, but listening to the stories they’ve told,
and imagining them talking about Abby was something I couldn’t stand.
I walked across the tile and wrapped my arms around Abby’s shoulders. “C’mon Pidge. Will you go with me?”
Abby looked to America, then to Shepley. It was only a few seconds until she looked into my eyes, but it felt like a goddamn eternity.
When her eyes finally met mine, her walls came crashing down.
“Yes.” She sighed. The enthusiasm in her voice was nonexistent, but it didn’t matter. She was going with me, and that knowledge allowed me to breathe again.
America screamed like girls do, clapped her hands, and then grabbed Abby to hug
morning were Shepley’s, and I didn’t look at any of them close enough to have an opinion.
Shepley grabbed some plates and held them in front of me. I scooped up eggs in the spatula and flopped them onto each plate. Abby watched with mild interest.
America puffed as Shepley sat the plate in front of her. “Don’t look at me like that, Shep. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go.”
Shepley had been moping for days about America’s rejection of his invitation to the date party. I didn’t blame her. Date parties were torture. The fact that she didn’t want to
go was kinda impressive. Most girls fell all over themselves to be invited to those things.
“Baby,” Shepley whined, “the House has a date party twice a year. It’s a month away. You’ll have plenty of time to find a dress and do all that girl
stuff.”
America wasn’t going for it. I tuned them out until I realized America had agreed to go only if Abby would. If Abby went, that meant she’d go with a date. America looked to me, and I
raised an eyebrow.
Shepley didn’t hesitate. “Trav doesn’t go to the date parties. It’s something you take your girlfriend to . . . and Travis doesn’t . . . you know.”
America shrugged. “We could set her up with someone.”
I started to speak up, but Abby clearly wasn’t happy. “I can hear you, you know,” she grumbled.
America pouted. That was the face Shepley couldn’t deny.
“Please, Abby? We’ll find you a nice guy who’s funny and witty, and you know I’ll make sure he’s hot. I promise you’ll have a good time! And who knows? Maybe
you’ll hit it off.”
I frowned. America would find her a guy? For the date party. One of my frat brothers. Oh, fuck, no. The thought of her hitting it off with
anyone
made the hairs on the back of my neck
stand on end.
The pan made a clanging noise when I threw it into the sink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take her.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t do me any favors, Travis.”
I took a step. “That’s not what I meant, Pidge. Date parties are for the guys with girlfriends, and it’s common knowledge that I don’t do the girlfriend thing. But I
won’t have to worry about you expecting an engagement ring afterward.”
America pouted again. “Pretty please, Abby?”
Abby looked like she was in pain. “Don’t look at me like that! Travis doesn’t want to go. I don’t want to go . . . we won’t be much fun.”
The more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the sink. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I think it’d be fun if
the four of us went.”
Abby recoiled when all eyes turned to her. “Why don’t we hang out here?”
I was okay with that.
America’s shoulders slumped, and Shepley leaned forward.
“Because I have to go, Abby,” Shepley said. “I’m a freshman. I have to make sure everything’s running smoothly, everyone has a beer in their hand, things like
that.”
Abby was mortified. She clearly didn’t want to go, but what scared me was that she couldn’t say no to America, and Shepley was willing to say anything for his girlfriend to go. If
Abby didn’t go with me, she could end up spending the evening—or night—with one of my frat brothers. They weren’t bad guys, but listening to the stories they’ve told,
and imagining them talking about Abby was something I couldn’t stand.
I walked across the tile and wrapped my arms around Abby’s shoulders. “C’mon Pidge. Will you go with me?”
Abby looked to America, then to Shepley. It was only a few seconds until she looked into my eyes, but it felt like a goddamn eternity.
When her eyes finally met mine, her walls came crashing down.
“Yes.” She sighed. The enthusiasm in her voice was nonexistent, but it didn’t matter. She was going with me, and that knowledge allowed me to breathe again.
America screamed like girls do, clapped her hands, and then grabbed Abby to hug
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