Beautiful Disaster (39 page)

“Valentine's Day at a frat house. Romantic,” he said, watching the couples walk by.

Shepley and America had been downstairs dancing from the moment we arrived, and Finch and I protested our presence by pouting in the kitchen. I drank the contents of the bottle quickly, determined to blur the memories of the last date party I'd attended.

Finch popped open another cap and handed me another, aware of my desperation to forget. “I'll get more,” he said, returning to the fridge.

“The keg is for guests, the bottles are for Sig Tau,” a girl sneered beside me.

I looked down at the red cup in her hand. “Or maybe your boyfriend just told you that because he was counting on a cheap date.”

She narrowed her eyes and pushed away from the counter, taking her cup elsewhere.

“Who was that?” Finch asked, setting down four more bottles.

“Random sorority bitch,” I said, watching her walk away.

By the time Shepley and America rejoined us, six empty bottles sat on the table beside me. My teeth were numb, and it felt a bit easier to smile. I was
more comfortable, leaning against my spot on the counter. Travis had proven to be a no-show, and I could survive the remainder of the party in peace.

“Are you guys going to dance or what?” America asked.

I looked to Finch. “Are you going to dance with me, Finch?”

“Are you going to be able to dance?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“There's only one way to find out,” I said, pulling him downstairs.

We bounced and shook until a thin sheen of sweat began to form under my dress. Just when I thought my lungs would burst, a slow song came over the speakers. Finch peered uncomfortably around us, glancing to the people pairing off and getting close.

“You're going to make me dance to this, aren't you?” he asked.

“It's Valentine's Day, Finch. Pretend I'm a boy.”

He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “It's hard to do that when you're wearing a short pink dress.”

“Whatever. Like you've never seen a boy in a dress.”

Finch shrugged. “True.”

I giggled, resting my head against his shoulder. The alcohol made my body feel heavy and sluggish as I tried to move to the slow tempo.

“Mind if I cut in, Finch?”

Travis stood beside us, half amused, half prepared for my reaction. The blood under my cheeks immediately burst into flames.

Finch looked at me, and then at Travis. “Sure.”

“Finch,” I hissed as he walked away. Travis pulled me against him and I tried to keep as much between space between us as possible. “I thought you weren't coming.”

“I wasn't, but I knew you were here. I had to come.”

I looked around the room, avoiding his eyes. Every movement he made I was acutely aware of. The pressure changes of his fingers at the points where he touched me, his feet shuffling beside mine, his arms shifting, brushing against my dress. I felt ridiculous pretending not to notice. His eye was healing, the bruise had almost vanished, and the red blotches on his face were absent as if I had imagined them. All evidence of that horrible night had disappeared, leaving only the stinging memories.

He watched my every breath, and when the song was half over, he sighed. “You look beautiful, Pidge.”

“Don't.”

“Don't what? Tell you you're beautiful?”

“Just … don't.”

“I didn't mean it.”

I huffed in frustration. “Thanks.”

“No … you look beautiful. I meant that. I was talking about what I said in my room. I'm not going to lie. I enjoyed pulling you from your date with Parker …”

“It wasn't a date, Travis. We were just eating. He won't speak to me now, thanks to you.”

“I heard. I'm sorry.”

“No you're not.”

“Y … you're right,” he said, stuttering when he saw my impatient expression. “But I … that wasn't the only
reason I took you to the fight. I wanted you there with me, Pidge. You're my good-luck charm.”

“I'm not your anything,” I snapped, glaring up at him.

His eyebrows pulled in and he stopped dancing. “You're my everything.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep the anger at the surface, but it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at me that way.

“You don't really hate me … do you?” he asked.

I turned away from him, putting more distance in between us. “Sometimes I wish that I did. It would make everything a whole hell of a lot easier.”

A cautious smile spread across his lips in a thin, subtle line. “So what pisses you off more? What I did to make you wanna hate me? Or knowing that you can't?”

The anger returned. I shoved past him, running up the stairs to the kitchen. My eyes were beginning to gloss over but I refused to be a sobbing mess at the date party. Finch stood beside the table and I sighed with relief when he handed me another beer.

For the next hour, I watched Travis fend off girls and suck down shots of whiskey in the living room. Each time he caught my eye, I looked away from him, determined to get through the night without a scene.

“You two look miserable,” Shepley said.

“They couldn't look more bored if they were doing it on purpose,” America grumbled.

“Don't forget … we didn't want to come,” Finch reminded them.

America made her famous face that I was just as famous for giving in to. “You could pretend, Abby. For me.”

Just when I opened my mouth for a sharp retort, Finch touched my arm. “I think we've done our duty. You ready to go, Abby?”

I drank the remainder of my beer in a quick swig and then took Finch's hand. As anxious as I was to leave, my legs froze when the same song that Travis and I danced to at my birthday party floated up the stairs. I grabbed Finch's bottle and took another swig, trying to block out the memories that came with the music.

Brad leaned against the counter beside me. “Wanna dance?”

I smiled at him, shaking my head. He began to say something else, but he was interrupted.

“Dance with me.” Travis stood a few feet from me, his hand outstretched to mine.

America, Shepley, and Finch were all staring at me, waiting for my answer as anxiously as Travis.

“Leave me alone, Travis,” I said, crossing my arms.

“This is our song, Pidge.”

“We don't have a song.”

“Pigeon …”

“No.”

I looked to Brad and forced a smile. “I would love to dance, Brad.”

Brad's freckles stretched across his cheeks as he smiled, gesturing for me to lead the way to the stairs.

Travis staggered backward, the hurt plainly displayed in his eyes. “A toast!” he yelled.

I flinched, turning just in time to see him climbing onto a chair, stealing a beer from the shocked Sig Tau brother closest to him. I glanced to America, who watched Travis with a pained expression.

“To douchebags!” he said, gesturing to Brad. “And to girls that break your heart,” he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. “And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.”

He tilted back the beer, finishing what was left, and then tossed it to the floor. The room was silent except for the music playing in the lower level, and everyone stared at Travis in mass confusion.

Mortified, I grabbed Brad's hand and led him downstairs to the dance floor. A few couples followed behind us, watching me closely for tears or some other response to Travis's tirade. I smoothed my features, refusing to give them what they wanted.

We danced a few stiff steps and Brad sighed. “That was kind of … weird.”

“Welcome to my life.”

Travis pushed his way through the couples on the dance floor, stopping beside me. It took him a moment to steady his feet. “I'm cutting in.”

“No, you're not. Jesus!” I said, refusing to look at him.

After a few tense moments I glanced up, seeing Travis's eyes boring into Brad's. “If you don't back away from my girl, I'll rip out your fucking throat. Right here on the dance floor.”

Brad seemed conflicted, his eyes nervously darting from me to Travis. “Sorry, Abby,” he said,
slowly pulling his arms away. He retreated to the stairs and I stood alone, humiliated.

“How I feel about you right now, Travis … it very closely resembles hate.”

“Dance with me,” he pleaded, swaying to keep his balance.

The song ended and I sighed with relief. “Go drink another bottle of whiskey, Trav.” I turned to dance with the only single guy on the dance floor.

The tempo was faster, and I smiled at my new, surprised dance partner, trying to ignore the fact that Travis was just a few feet behind me. Another Sig Tau brother danced behind me, grabbing my hips. I reached back, pulling him closer. It reminded me of the way Travis and Megan danced that night at the Red, and I did my best to recreate the scene I had wished on many occasions that I could forget. Two pairs of hands were on nearly every part of my body, and it was easy to ignore my more reserved side with the amount of alcohol in my system.

Suddenly, I was airborne. Travis threw me over his shoulder, at the same time shoving one of his frat brothers hard, knocking him to the floor.

“Put me down!” I said, pounding my fists into his back.

“I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself over me,” he growled, taking the stairs two at a time.

Every pair of eyes we passed watched me kick and scream as Travis carried me across the room. “You don't think,” I said as I struggled, “this is embarrassing? Travis!”

“Shepley! Is Donnie outside?” Travis said, ducking from my flailing limbs.

“Uh … yeah?” he said.

“Put her down!” America said, taking a step toward us.

“America,” I said, squirming, “don't just stand there! Help me!”

Her mouth turned up and she laughed once. “You two look ridiculous.”

My eyebrows turned in at her words, both shocked and angry that she found any part of the situation funny.

Travis headed for the door and I glared at her. “Thanks a lot, friend!”

The cold air struck the bare parts of my skin, and I protested louder. “Put me down, dammit!”

Travis opened a car door and tossed me into the backseat, sliding in beside me. “Donnie, you're the DD tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, nervously watching me struggle to escape.

“I need you take us to my apartment.”

“Travis … I don't think …”

Travis's voice was controlled, but frightening. “Do it, Donnie, or I'll shove my fist through the back of your head, I swear to God.”

Donnie pulled away from the curb and I lunged for the door handle. “I'm not going to your apartment!”

Travis grabbed one of my wrists and then the other. I leaned down to bite his arm. He closed his eyes, and then a low grunt escaped through his clenched jaw as my teeth sunk into his flesh.

“Do your worst, Pidge. I'm tired of your shit.”

I released his skin and jerked my arms, struggling against his grip. “My shit? Let me out of this fucking car!”

He pulled my wrists close to his face. “I love you, dammit! You're not going anywhere until you sober up and we figure this out!”

“You're the only one that hasn't figured it out, Travis!” I said. He released my wrists and I crossed my arms, pouting the rest of the way to the apartment.

When the car slowed to a stop, I leaned forward. “Can you take me home, Donnie?”

Travis pulled me out of the car by the arm and then he swung me over his shoulder again, carrying me up the stairs. “Night, Donnie.”

“I'm calling your dad!” I cried.

Travis laughed out loud. “And he'd probably pat me on the shoulder and tell me that it's about damn time!”

He struggled to unlock the door as I kicked and waved my arms, trying to get away. “Knock it off, Pidge, or we're going to fall down the stairs!” Once he opened the door, he stomped into Shepley's room.

“Put. Me. Down!” I screamed.

“Fine,” he said, dropping me onto Shepley's bed. “Sleep it off. We'll talk in the morning.”

The room was dark; the only light a rectangular beam shooting into the doorway from the hall. I fought to focus through the darkness, beer, and anger, and when he turned into the light, it illuminated his smug smile.

I pounded the mattress with my fists. “You can't tell me what to do any more, Travis! I don't belong to you!”

In the second it took him to turn and face me, his expression had contorted into anger. He stomped toward me, planting his hands on the bed and leaning into my face.

“WELL I BELONG TO YOU!” The veins in his neck bulged as he shouted, and I met his glare, refusing to even flinch. He looked at my lips, panting. “I belong to you,” he whispered, his anger melting as he realized how close we were.

Before I could think of a reason not to, I grabbed his face, slamming my lips against his. Without hesitation, Travis lifted me into his arms. In a few long strides, he carried me into his bedroom, both of us crashing to the bed.

I yanked his shirt over his head, fumbling in the dark with his belt buckle. He jerked it open, ripped it off, and threw it to the floor. He lifted me from the mattress with one hand and unzipped my dress with the other. I pulled it over my head, tossing it somewhere in the dark, and then Travis kissed me, moaning against my mouth.

With just a few quick movements, his boxers were off and he pressed his chest against mine. I grabbed his backside, but he resisted when I tried to pull him into me.

“We're both drunk,” he said, breathing hard.

“Please.” I pressed my legs against his hips, desperate to relieve the burning between my thighs. Travis was set on us getting back together, and I had no intentions of fighting the inevitable, so I was more
than ready to spend the night tangled up in his sheets.