Shepley emerged from his bedroom, looking tired and satisfied. “What are you fruitcakes shrieking about in here?”
America held up my wrist. “Look! Her birthday present from Parker!”
Shepley squinted, and then his eyes popped open. “Whoa.”
“I know, right?” America said, nodding.
Travis stumbled around the corner, looking a bit beat up. “You guys are loud as fuck,” he groaned, buttoning his jeans.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling my hand from America’s grip. Our almost moment crept into my mind, and I couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes.
He downed the rest of my orange juice, and then wiped his mouth. “Who in the hell let me drink that much last night?”
America sneered, “You did. You went out and bought a fifth after Abby left with Parker and killed the whole thing by the time she got back.”
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you have fun?” he asked, looking to me.
“Are you serious?” I asked, showing my anger before thinking.
“What?”
America laughed. “You pulled her out of Parker’s car, seeing red when you caught them making out like high schoolers. They fogged up the windows and everything!”
Travis’s eyes unfocused, scanning his memories of the night before. I worked to stifle my temper. If he didn’t remember pulling me from the car, he wouldn’t remember how close I came to handing my virginity to him on a silver platter.
“How pissed are you?” he asked, wincing.
“Pretty pissed.” I was angrier that my feelings had nothing to do with Parker. I tightened my robe and stomped down the hall. Travis’s footsteps were right behind me.
“Pidge,” he said, catching the door when I shut it in his face. He slowly pushed it open and stood before me, waiting to suffer my wrath.
“Do you remember anything you said to me last night?” I asked.
“No. Why? Was I mean to you?” His bloodshot eyes were heavy with worry, which only served to amplify my anger.
“No you weren’t mean to me! You … we …” I covered my eyes with my hands, and then froze when I felt Travis’s hand on my wrist.
“Where’d this come from?” he said, glaring at the bracelet.
“It’s mine,” I said, pulling away from him.
He didn’t take his eyes from my wrist. “I’ve never seen it before. It looks new.”
“It is.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Parker gave it to me about fifteen minutes ago,” I said, watching his face morph from confusion to rage.
“What the fuck was that douchebag doing here? Did he stay the night?” he asked, his voice rising with each question.
I crossed my arms. “He went shopping for my birthday present this morning and brought it by.”
“It’s not your birthday yet.” His face turned a deep shade of red as he worked to keep his temper under control.
“He couldn’t wait,” I said, lifting my chin with stubborn pride.
“No wonder I had to drag your ass out of his car, sounds like you were …” he trailed off, pressing his lips together.