Walking Disaster (Beautiful Disaster #2)

We walked into the hall, and she sighed. “You’re not going to be mad if I flunk this test, are you?”


She was worried if I was going to be mad at her? I wasn’t sure what I should think about that, but it felt pretty fucking awesome.

“You’re not going to flunk, Pidge. We need to start earlier for the next one, though,” I said, walking along with her to the science building. I asked her question after question. She answered most right away, some she hesitated about, but she got them all correct.

We reached the door of her classroom, and I could see the appreciation on her face. She was too proud to admit it, though.

“Kick ass,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

Parker Hayes passed by and nodded. “Hey, Trav.”

I hated that douche. “Parker,” I said, nodding back.

Parker was one of those guys that liked to follow me around and use his White Knight status to get laid. He liked to refer to me as a womanizer, but the truth was, Parker just played a more sophisticated game. He wasn’t honest about his conquests. He pretended to care and then let them down easy.

One night our freshman year, I took Janet Littleton home from the Red Door to my apartment. Parker was trying to get lucky with her friend. We went our separate ways from the club, and after I bagged her and didn’t pretend to want a relationship afterward, she called her friend all pissed off to come get her. The friend was still with Parker, so he ended up taking Janet home.

After that, Parker had a new story to tell his conquests. Whatever girl I bagged, he usually swept up my sloppy seconds by recounting the time he saved Janet.

I tolerated him, but only just barely.

Parker’s eyes targeted Pigeon and immediately lit up. “Hey, Abby.”

I didn’t understand why Parker was so insistent on seeing if he could land the same girls I did, but he’d had class with her for several weeks and was just now showing interest. Knowing it was because he saw her talking to me nearly sent me into a fury.

“Hi,” Abby said, taken off guard. She clearly didn’t know why he was suddenly talking to her. It was written all over her face. “Who’s that?” she asked me.

I shrugged casually, but I wanted to tear across the room and beat his preppy ass. “Parker Hayes,” I said. His name left a bad taste in my mouth. “He’s one of my Sig Tau brothers.” That left a bad taste, too. I had brothers, both frat and blood. Parker felt like neither. More like an archenemy that you kept close enough to keep an eye on.

“You’re in a frat?” she asked, her little nose wrinkling up.

“Sigma Tau, same as Shep. I thought you knew.”

“Well . . . you don’t seem the . . . fraternity type,” she said, eyeing the tattoos on my forearms.

The fact that Abby’s eyes were back on me immediately put me in a better mood. “My dad is an alumnus, and my brothers are all Sig Tau. It’s a family thing.”

“And they expected you to pledge?” she asked, skeptical.

“Not really. They’re just good guys,” I said, flicking her papers. I handed them to her. “Better get to class.”

She flashed that flawless smile. “Thanks for helping me.” She nudged me with her elbow, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

She walked into the classroom and sat next to America. Parker was staring at her, watching the girls talking. I fantasized about picking up a desk and hurling it at his head as I walked down the hall. With no more classes for the day, there was no reason for me to stick around. A long ride on the Harley would help keep the thought of Parker sleazing his way into Abby’s good graces from driving me crazy, so I made sure to take the long way home to give me more time to think. A few couch-worthy coeds crossed my path, but Abby’s face kept popping into my mind—so many times that I began to annoy myself.

I had notoriously been a piece of shit to every girl with whom I’d had a private conversation over the age of sixteen—since I was fifteen. Our story might have been typical: Bad boy falls for good girl, but Abby was no princess. She was hiding something. Maybe that was our connection: whatever it was that she had left behind.

I pulled into the apartment parking lot and climbed off the bike. So much for thinking better on the Harley. Everything I’d just unraveled in my head made no fucking sense. I was just trying to justify my weird obsession with her.

Suddenly in a very bad mood, I slammed the door behind me and sat on the couch, and became even more pissed off when I couldn’t find the remote right away.

Black plastic landed beside me as Shepley passed to sit in the recliner. I picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, turning it on.

“Why do you take the remote to your bedroom? You just have to bring it back in here,” I snapped.

“I don’t know, man, it’s just habit. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t know,” I grumbled, flipping on the TV. I pressed the mute button. “Abby Abernathy.”

Shepley’s eyebrow pushed up. “What about her?”

Jamie McGuire's books