“Yes. Can I please go to sleep?”
“Sure,” he said, shoving himself off the bed and then slamming the door behind him. The recliner squeaked under his weight and then muffled voices from the television drifted down the hall. I forced my eyes shut and tried to calm down enough to doze off, even if it was just for a few hours.
The clock read three p.m. when I peeled my eyes open. I grabbed a towel and my robe, and then trudged into the bathroom. As soon as I closed the shower curtain, the door opened and shut. I waited for someone to speak, but the only sound was the toilet lid smacking against porcelain.
“Travis?”
“Nope, it’s me,” America said.
“Do you have to pee in here? You have your own bathroom.”
“Shep has been in there for half an hour with the beer shits. Not going in there.”
“Nice.”
“I hear you have a date tonight. Travis is pissed!” she lilted.
“At six! He is so sweet, America. He’s just …” I trailed off, sighing. I was gushing, and it wasn’t like me to gush. I kept thinking about how perfect he had been since the moment we’d met. He was exactly what I needed: the polar opposite of Travis.
“Rendered you speechless?” she giggled.
I poked my head from the curtain. “I didn’t want to come home! I could have talked to him forever!”
“Sounds promising. Isn’t it kind of weird that you’re here, though?”
I ducked under the water, rinsing away the suds. “I explained it to him.”
The toilet flushed, and the faucet turned on, making the water flash cold for a moment. I cried out and the door flew open.
“Pidge?” Travis said.
America laughed. “I just flushed the toilet, Trav, calm down.”
“Oh. You all right, Pigeon?”
“I’m great. Get out.” The door shut again and I sighed. “Is it too much to ask for locks on the doors?” America didn’t answer. “Mare?”
“It’s really too bad you two couldn’t get on the same page. You’re the only girl that could have …” she sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter, now.”
I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. “You’re as bad as he is. It’s a sickness … no one here makes sense. You’re pissed at him, remember?”
“I know,” she nodded.
I turned on my new hairdryer and began the process of primping for my date with Parker. I curled my hair and painted my nails and lips a deep shade of red. It was a bit much for a first date. I frowned at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t Parker I was trying to impress. I wasn’t in a position to be insulted when Travis accused me of playing games, after all.
As I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, guilt washed over me. Travis was trying so hard, and I was being a stubborn brat. I walked out into the living room and Travis smiled, not the reaction I expected at all.
“You … are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, rattled by the absence of irritation or jealousy in his voice.
Shepley whistled. “Nice choice, Abby. Guys dig red.”
“And the curls are gorgeous,” America added.
The doorbell chimed and America smiled, waving with exaggerated excitement. “Have fun!”
I opened the door. Parker held a small bouquet of flowers, wearing slacks and a tie. His eyes did a quick once-over from my dress to my shoes and then back up.