Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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I never thought I'd enjoy myself at one of these sorority formals.
I've been to more of these than I can count since our old captain, Brody, had a girlfriend in the sorority. He made us all tag along so he wouldn't be alone while he waited for her event management duties to be over. Since the events were always dry, we were stuck pretending to socialize until the big after-parties. That's what we were really there for—the seemingly unlimited reserve of liquor that the frats always supplied at their ragers after.
That's actually the first time I saw Abby.
It was the first night of freshman year. We had come straight from practice, and since it was an ABC party, Coach looked like he wanted to smack us all as Nas and Lief, the two sophomore troublemakers, who honestly could have given Luke and Micah a run for their money, wrapped us in either caution tape or athletic tape.
I opted for the caution tape, which was probably a good choice since Lief ripped off an impressive amount of leg hair taking off the athletic tape later that night. A fact that I only knew because, while I was busy in bed with a sorority girl, he was screaming bloody murder as her sister tried to undress him.
The ironic thing is, if it were up to me, that girl in my bed would've been Abby. I saw her pouring a drink in the kitchen, wrapped up in neon pink streamers that covered her a little less than I think she knew, and when I downed my beer and started to step around the table, Lief grabbed my arm and dragged me over to do a keg stand.
I was being hazed, all the freshmen were, based on how much they poured down our throats that night, and when they finally put me back down, she was gone.
We were so close to colliding that night, so close to all of this sliding into place—to nights spent in bed with her, to waking up with her cuddled up beside me, to seeing my future shining back at me in those deep blue eyes.
Looking up now, I can't hold back my dumbass grin because those same ocean eyes are flashing under the strobing lights as she dances with her two best friends. She's pulling out the robot, bending over slightly at the waist and letting her arm hang and dangle as Nia and Jenny mirror her movements while their laughs melt into the melody of the song they're dancing to.
Their choice of dance is a hilarious contrast to the sultry movements around them, but I can't seem to take my eyes off Abby. She ditches her robot moves to throw her hands above her head and shake her hips, offbeat, of course, to the music while her smile lights up the space surrounding her. When she tilts her head back in a laugh, her long chestnut waves cascade down her exposed back in the form-fitting, floor-length, silk backless dress.
I've only been speechless a few times in my life, and now that I think about it, most of them have been because of Abby. I was speechless when she pulled off her shirt in my bathroom the first time we had sex, when she broke down in my arms out in the field before she told me about her dad, when she barged into the locker room and told me that she loved me, and again tonight when she pulled open the door of her apartment. She stood there, blinking up at me as she feigned innocence while her tight dress pulled me down into the dirtiest parts of my mind.
