His smile widened. “You can get the damn dog . . .”
I grinned. Yes! Victory!
“. . . if you admit you have feelings for Abby.”
I frowned. Fuck! Defeat! “C’mon, man!”
“Admit it,” Shepley said, crossing his arms. What a tool. He was actually going to make me say it.
I looked to the floor and everywhere else except Shepley’s smug ass smile. I fought it for a while, but the puppy was fucking brilliant. Abby would flip out (in a good way for once), and I could keep it at the apartment. She’d want to be there every day.
“I like her,” I said through my teeth.
Shepley held his hand to his ear. “What? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
“You’re an asshole! Did you hear that?”
Shepley crossed his arms. “Say it.”
“I like her, okay?”
“Not good enough.”
“I have feelings for her. I care about her. A lot. I can’t stand it when she’s not around. Happy?”
“For now,” he said, grabbing his backpack off the floor. He slung one strap over his shoulder, and then picked up his cell phone and keys. “See you at lunch, pussy.”
“Eat shit,” I grumbled.
Shepley was always the idiot in love acting like a fool. He was never going to let me live this down.
It only took a couple of minutes to get dressed, but all that talking had me running late. I slipped on my leather jacket and put my ball cap on backward. My only class that day was Chem II, so bringing my bag wasn’t necessary. Someone in class would let me borrow a pencil if we had a quiz.
Sunglasses. Keys. Phone. Wallet. I slipped on my boots and slammed the door behind me, trotting down the stairs. Riding the Harley wasn’t nearly as appealing without Abby on the back. Dammit, she was ruining everything.
On campus, I walked a little faster than usual to make it to class on time. With just a second to spare, I slipped into the desk. Dr. Webber rolled her eyes, unimpressed with my timing, and probably a little irritated with my lack of materials. I winked, and the slightest smile touched her lips. She shook her head, and then returned her attention to the papers on her desk.
A pencil wasn’t necessary, and once we were dismissed, I took off toward the cafeteria.
Shepley was waiting for the girls in the middle of the greens. I grabbed his ball cap, and before he could take it back, I tossed it like a Frisbee across the lawn.
“Nice, dick,” he said, walking the few feet to pick it up.
“Mad Dog,” someone called behind me. I knew from the scruffy, deep voice who it was.
Adam approached Shepley and me, his expression all business. “I’m trying to set up a fight. Be ready for a phone call.”
“We always are,” Shepley said. He was sort of my business manager. He took care of getting the word out, and he made sure I was in the right place at the right time.
Adam nodded once, and then left for his next destination, whatever that was. I had never been in a class with the guy. I wasn’t even sure if he really went to school here. As long as he paid me, I guess I didn’t really care.
Shepley watched Adam walk away, and then cleared his throat. “So did you hear?”
“What?”
“They fixed the boilers at Morgan.”
“So?”
“America and Abby will probably pack up tonight. We’re going to be busy helping them move all their shit back to the dorms.”
My face fell. The thought of packing Abby up and taking her back to Morgan felt like a punch in the face. Especially after the night before, she’d probably be happy to leave. She might not even speak to me again. My mind flashed through a million scenarios, but I couldn’t think of anything to get her to stay.
“You okay, man?” Shepley asked.
The girls appeared, giggly and smiling. I tried a smile, but Abby was too busy being embarrassed by whatever America was laughing about.
“Hey, baby,” America said, kissing Shepley on the mouth.
“What’s so funny?” Shepley asked.
“Oh, a guy in class was staring at Abby all hour. It was adorable.”
“As long as he was staring at Abby.” Shepley winked.
“Who was it?” I asked before thinking.
Abby shifted her weight, readjusting her backpack. It was overflowing with books, the zipper barely containing the contents. It must have been heavy. I slipped it off her shoulder.
“Mare’s imagining things,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Abby! You big fat liar! It was Parker Hayes, and he was being so obvious. The guy was practically drooling.”
My face twisted. “Parker Hayes?”
Shepley pulled on America’s hand. “We’re headed to lunch. Will you be enjoying the fine cafeteria cuisine this afternoon?”
America kissed him again in answer, and Abby followed behind, prompting me to do the same. We walked together in silence. She was going to find out about the boilers, they would move back to Morgan, and Parker would ask her out.
Parker Hayes was a cream puff, but I could see Abby being interested in him. His parents were stupid rich, he was going to med school, and on the surface he was a nice guy. She was going to end up with him. The rest of her life with him played out in my head, and it was all I could do to calm down. The mental image of tackling my temper and shoving it into a box helped.
Abby placed her tray between America and Finch. An empty chair a few seats down was a better choice for me than attempting to carry on a conversation like I hadn’t just lost her. This was going to suck, and I didn’t know what to do. So much time had been wasted playing games. Abby didn’t have a chance to even get to know me. Hell, even if she had, she was probably better off with someone like Parker.
“Are you okay, Trav?” Abby asked.
“Me? Fine, why?” I asked, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that settled in every muscle of my face.
“You’ve just been quiet.”
Several members of the football team approached the table and sat down, laughing loudly. Just the sounds of their voices made me want to punch a wall.
Chris Jenks tossed a French fry onto my plate. “What’s up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. She’s been raking your name through the mud today.”
“Shut up, Jenks,” I said, keeping my eyes on my food. If I looked up at his ridiculous fucking face, I might have knocked him out of his chair.
Abby leaned forward. “Knock it off, Chris.”
I looked up at Abby, and for a reason I couldn’t explain, became instantly angry. What the fuck was she defending me for? The second she found out about Morgan, she was going to leave me. She’d never talk to me again. Even though it was crazy, I felt betrayed. “I can take care of myself, Abby.”
“I’m sorry, I . . .”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to be anything,” I snapped. Her expression was the final straw. Of course she didn’t want to be around me. I was an infantile asshole that had the emotional control of a three-year-old. I shoved away from the table and pushed through the door, not stopping until I was sitting on my bike.
The rubber grips on the handlebars whined under my palms as I twisted my hands back and forth. The engine snarled, and I kicked back the kickstand before taking off like a bat out of hell into the street.
I rode around for an hour, feeling no better than before. The streets were leading to one place, though, and even though it took me that long to give in and just go, I finally pulled into my father’s driveway.
Dad walked out of the front door and stood on the porch, giving a short wave.