Beautiful Disaster (2 page)

“Don't even think about it, Travis. She's like my sister,” America warned.

“Baby,” Shepley said. “You just told him no. He's never gonna stop, now.”

“You're not her type,” she hedged.

Travis feigned offense. “I'm everyone's type!”

I peeked over at him and smiled.

“Ah! A smile. I'm not a rotten bastard after all,” he winked. “It was nice to meet you, Pidge.” He walked around the table and leaned into America's ear.

Shepley threw a french fry at his cousin. “Get your lips outta my girl's ear, Trav!”

“Networking! I'm networking!” Travis walked backward with his hands up in an innocent gesture.

A few more girls followed behind him, giggling and running their fingers through their hair to get his
attention. He opened the door for them, and they nearly squealed in delight.

America laughed. “Oh, no. You're in trouble, Abby.”

“What did he say?” I asked, wary.

“He wants you to bring her to the apartment, doesn't he?” Shepley said. America nodded and he shook his head. “You're a smart girl, Abby. I'm telling you now, if you fall for his shit and then end up getting mad at him, you can't take it out on me and America, all right?”

I smiled. “I won't fall for it, Shep. Do I look like one of the Barbie twins to you?”

“She won't fall for it,” America assured him, touching his arm.

“This isn't my first rodeo, Mare. Do you know how many times he's screwed things up for me because he one-nights the best friend? All of a sudden it's a conflict of interest to date me because it's fraternizing with the enemy! I'm tellin' ya, Abby,” he looked at me, “don't tell Mare she can't come over or date me because you fall for Trav's line of BS. Consider yourself warned.”

“Unnecessary, but appreciated,” I said. I tried to assure Shepley with a smile, but his pessimism was driven by years of being burned by Travis's endeavors.

America waved, leaving with Shepley as I walked to my afternoon class. I squinted in the bright sun, gripping my backpack straps. Eastern was exactly what I hoped it would be, from the smaller classrooms to the unfamiliar faces. It was a new start for me; I could finally walk somewhere without the
whispers of those who knew—or thought they knew—anything about my past. I was as indistinguishable as any other wide-eyed, overachieving freshman on the way to class; no staring, no rumors, no pity or judgment. Only the illusion of what I wanted them to see: cashmered, no-nonsense Abby Abernathy.

I sat my backpack on the floor and collapsed into the chair, bending down to fish my laptop from my bag. When I popped up to set it on my desk, Travis slid behind the next desk.

“Good. You can take notes for me,” he said. He chewed on the pen in his mouth and smiled, undoubtedly his most charming.

I shot a disgusted look at him. “You're not even in this class.”

“The hell if I'm not. I usually sit up there,” he said, nodding to the top row. A small group of girls were staring at me, and I noticed an empty chair in the center.

“I'm not taking notes for you,” I said, booting up my computer.

Travis leaned so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “I'm sorry…did I offend you in some way?”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Then what is your problem?”

I kept my voice low. “I'm not sleeping with you. You should give up, now.”

A slow smile crept across his face before he spoke. “I haven't asked you sleep with me.” His eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought. “Have I?”

“I'm not a Barbie twin or one of your little groupies up there,” I said, glancing at the girls
behind us. “I'm not impressed with your tattoos or your boyish charm or your forced indifference, so you can stop the antics, okay?”

“Okay, Pigeon.” He was infuriatingly impervious to my rudeness. “Why don't you come over with America tonight?” I sneered at his request, but he leaned closer. “I'm not trying to bag you. I just wanna hang out.”

“Bag me? How do you ever get laid talking like that?”

Travis burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Just come over. I won't even flirt with you, I swear.”

“I'll think about it.”

Professor Chaney strolled in, and Travis turned his attention to the front of the room. A residual smile lingered on his face, making the dimple in his cheek sink in. The more he smiled, the more I wanted to hate him, and yet it was the very thing that made hating him impossible.

“Who can tell me which president had a cross-eyed wife with a bad case of the uglies?” Chaney asked.

“Make sure you get that down,” Travis whispered. “I'm gonna need to know that for job interviews.”

“Sshh,” I said, typing Chaney's every word.

Travis grinned and relaxed into his chair. As the hour progressed, he alternated between yawning and leaning against my arm to look at my monitor. I made a concentrated effort to ignore him, but his proximity and the muscles bulging from his arm made it difficult. He picked at the black leather band around his wrist until Chaney dismissed us.

I hurried out the door and down the hall. Just when I felt sure I was a safe distance, Travis Maddox was at my side.

“Have you thought about it?” he asked, slipping on his sunglasses.

A petite brunette stepped in front of us, wide-eyed and hopeful. “Hey, Travis,” she lilted, playing with her hair.

I paused, recoiling from her sugary tone, and then walked around her. I'd seen her before, talking normally in the commons area of the girls' dorm, Morgan Hall. Her tone sounded much more mature then, and I wondered what it was about a toddler's voice she thought Travis would find appealing. She babbled in a higher octave for a bit longer until he was next to me once again.

Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lit a cigarette and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. “Where was I? Oh yeah…you were thinking.”

I grimaced. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you thought about coming over?”

“If I say yes, will you quit following me?”

He considered my stipulation and then nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I'll come over.”

“When?”

I sighed. “Tonight. I'll come over tonight.”

Travis smiled and stopped in his tracks. “Sweet. See you then, Pidge,” he called after me.

I rounded the corner to see America standing with Finch outside our dormitory. The three of us ended up at the same table at freshman orientation, and I knew he would be the welcome third wheel to our
well-oiled machine. He wasn't excessively tall, but still he towered over my five feet four inches. His round eyes offset his long, lean features, and his bleached hair was usually fashioned into a spike at the front.

“Travis Maddox? Jesus, Abby, since when did you start fishing in the deep end?” Finch said with disapproving eyes.

America pulled the gum from her mouth in a long string. “You're only making it worse by brushing him off. He's not used to that.”

“What do you suggest I do? Sleep with him?”

America shrugged. “It'll save time.”

“I told him I'd come over tonight.”

Finch and America traded glances.

“What? He promised to quit bugging me if I said yes. You're going over there tonight, right?”

“Well, yeah,” America said. “You're really coming?”

I smiled and walked past them into the dorms, wondering if Travis would make good on his promise not to flirt. He wasn't hard to figure out; he either saw me as a challenge, or safely unattractive enough to be a good friend. I wasn't sure which bothered me more.

Four hours later, America knocked on my door to take me to Shepley and Travis'. She didn't hold back when I walked into the hall.

“Yuck, Abby! You look homeless!”

“Good,” I said, smiling at my ensemble. My hair was piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I had scrubbed the makeup from my face and replaced my contacts with rectangular black-rimmed glasses. Sporting a ratty T-shirt and sweatpants, I shuffled
along in a pair of flip flops. The idea had come to me hours before that either way, unattractive was the best plan. Ideally, Travis would be instantly turned off and stop his ridiculous persistence. If he was looking for a buddy, I was aiming for too homely to be seen with.

America rolled down her window and spit out her gum. “You're so obvious. Why didn't you just roll in dog shit to make your outfit complete?”

“I'm not trying to impress anyone,” I said.

“Obviously.”

We pulled into the parking lot of Shepley's apartment complex, and I followed America to the stairs. Shepley opened the door, laughing as I walked in. “What happened to you?”

“She's trying to be unimpressive,” America said.

America followed Shepley into his room. The door closed and I stood alone, feeling out of place. I sat in the recliner closest to the door and kicked off my flip-flops.

Their apartment was more aesthetically pleasing than the typical bachelor pad. The predictable posters of half-naked women and stolen street signs were on the walls, but it was clean, the furniture was new, and the smell of stale beer and dirty clothes was notably absent.

“It's about time you showed up,” Travis said, collapsing onto the couch.

I smiled and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, waiting for him to recoil at my appearance. “America had a paper to finish.”

“Speaking of papers, have you started the one for History, yet?”

He didn't bat an eye at my messy hair, and I frowned at his reaction. “Have you?”

“I finished it this afternoon.”

“It's not due until next Wednesday,” I said, surprised.

“I just plugged it out. How hard can a two-page essay on Grant be?”

“I'm a procrastinator, I guess,” I shrugged. “I probably won't start on it until this weekend.”

“Well, if you need help just let me know.”

I waited for him to laugh, or to show some sign that he was joking, but his expression was sincere. I raised an eyebrow. “You're going to help me with my paper?”

“I have an A in that class,” he said, a bit miffed at my disbelief.

“He has As in all his classes. He's a freakin' genius. I hate him,” Shepley said as he led America into the living room by the hand.

I watched Travis with a dubious expression and his eyebrows shot up. “What? You don't think a guy covered in tats and that trades punches for a living can get the grades? I'm not in school because I have nothing better to do.”

“Why do you have to fight at all, then? Why didn't you try for scholarships?” I asked.

“I did. I was awarded half my tuition. But there are books, living expenses, and I gotta come up with the other half sometime. I'm serious, Pidge. If you need help with anything, just ask.”

“I don't need your help. I can write a paper.” I wanted to leave it at that. I should have left it at that, but the new side of him he'd revealed gnawed at my
curiosity. “You can't find something else to do for a living? Less—I don't know—sadistic?”

Travis shrugged. “It's an easy way to make a buck. I can't make that much working at the mall.”

“I wouldn't say it's easy if you're getting hit in the face.”

“What? You're worried about me?” he winked. I made a face and he chuckled. “I don't get hit that often. If they swing, I move. It's not that hard.”

I laughed once. “You act as if no one else has come to that conclusion.”

“When I throw a punch they take it and try to reciprocate. That's not gonna win a fight.”

I rolled my eyes. “What are you, the Karate Kid? Where did you learn to fight?”

Shepley and America glanced at each other, and then their eyes wandered to the floor. It didn't take long to recognize I had said something wrong.

Travis didn't seem affected. “I had a dad with a drinking problem and a bad temper, and four older brothers that carried the asshole gene.”

“Oh.” My ears smoldered.

“Don't be embarrassed, Pidge. Dad quit drinking, the brothers grew up.”

“I'm not embarrassed.” I fidgeted with the falling strands of my hair and then decided to pull it down and smooth it into another bun, trying to ignore the awkward silence.

“I like the au naturel thing you have going on. Girls don't come over here like that.”

“I was coerced into coming here. It didn't occur to me to impress you,” I said, irritated that my plan had failed.

He smiled his boyish, amused grin, and I turned up my anger a notch, hoping it would cover my unease. I didn't know how most girls felt around him, but I'd seen how they behaved. I was experiencing more of a disoriented, nauseated feeling than giggly infatuation, and the harder he worked to make me smile, the more unsettled I felt.

“I'm already impressed. I don't normally have to beg girls to come to my apartment.”

“I'm sure,” I said, screwing my face into disgust.

He was the worst kind of confident. Not only was he shamelessly aware of his appeal, he was so used to women throwing themselves at him that he regarded my cool demeanor as refreshing instead of an insult. I would have to change my strategy.

America pointed the remote at the television and switched it on. “There's a good movie on tonight. Anyone want to find out where Baby Jane is?”

Travis stood up. “I was just heading out for dinner. You hungry, Pidge?”

“I already ate,” I shrugged.

“No you haven't,” America said before realizing her mistake. “Oh…er…that's right, I forgot you grabbed a…pizza? Before we left.”

I grimaced at her miserable attempt to fix her blunder, and then waited for Travis' reaction.

He walked across the room and opened the door. “C'mon. You've gotta be hungry.”