“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?”

I drank the remainder of my beer in a quick swig and then took Finch’s hand. As anxious as I was to leave, my legs froze when the same song that Travis and I danced to at my birthday party floated up the stairs. I grabbed Finch’s bottle and took another swig, trying to block out the memories that came with the music.

Brad leaned against the counter beside me. “Wanna dance?”

I smiled at him, shaking my head. He began to say something else, but he was interrupted.

“Dance with me.” Travis stood a few feet from me, his hand outstretched to mine.

America, Shepley and Finch were all staring at me, waiting for my answer as anxiously as Travis.

“Leave me alone, Travis,” I said, crossing my arms.

“This is our song, Pidge.”

“We don’t have a song.”

“Pigeon….”

“No.”

I looked to Brad and forced a smile. “I would love to dance, Brad.”

Brad’s freckles stretched across his cheeks as he smiled, gesturing for me to lead the way to the stairs.

Travis staggered backward, the hurt plainly displayed in his eyes. “A toast!” he yelled.

I flinched, turning just in time to see him climbing onto a chair, stealing a beer from the shocked Sig Tau brother closest to him. I glanced to America, who was watching Travis with a pained expression.

“To douchebags!” he said, gesturing to Brad. “And to girls that break your heart,” he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. “And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.”

He tilted back the beer, finishing what was left, and then tossed it to the floor. The room was silent except for the music playing in the lower level, and everyone stared at Travis in mass confusion.

Mortified, I grabbed Brad’s hand and led him downstairs to the dance floor. A few couples followed behind us, watching me closely for tears or some other response to Travis’ tirade. I smoothed my features, refusing to give them what they wanted.

We danced a few stiff steps and Brad sighed. “That was kind of…weird.”

“Welcome to my life.”

Travis pushed his way through the couples on the dance floor, stopping beside me. It took him a moment to steady his feet. “I’m cutting in.”

“No, you’re not. Jesus!” I said, refusing to look at him.

After a few tense moments I glanced up, seeing Travis’ eyes boring into Brad’s. “If you don’t back away from my girl, I’ll rip out your fucking throat. Right here on the dance floor.”

Brad seemed conflicted, his eyes nervously darting from me to Travis. “Sorry, Abby,” he said, slowly pulling his arms away. He retreated to the stairs and I stood alone, humiliated.

“How I feel about you right now, Travis… it very closely resembles hate.”

“Dance with me,” he pleaded, swaying to keep his balance.

The song ended and I sighed with relief. “Go drink another bottle of whiskey, Trav.” I turned to dance with the only single guy on the dance floor.