Beautiful Disaster (7 page)

“That's a nice shade,” he said, watching me press my lips together.

I smiled, feeling the anger at Travis and the heaviness of the alcohol. “Maybe you can try it on later.”

Ethan's eyes brightened as I leaned in closer, and I smiled when he touched my knee. He pulled back his hand when Travis stepped between us.

“You ready, Pidge?”

“I'm talking, Travis,” I said, moving him back. His shirt was damp from the circus on the dance floor, and I made a show of wiping my hand on my skirt.

Travis made a face. “Do you even know this guy?”

“This is Ethan,” I said, sending my new friend the best flirty smile I could manage.

He winked at me, and then looked at Travis, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Travis watched me expectantly until I finally gave in, waving my hand in his general direction. “Ethan, this is Travis,” I muttered.

“Travis Maddox,” he said, staring at Ethan's hand as if he wanted to rip it off.

Ethan's eyes grew wide and he awkwardly pulled back his hand. “Travis Maddox? Eastern's Travis Maddox?”

I rested my cheek on my fist, dreading the inevitable testosterone-fueled story swapping that would soon ensue.

Travis stretched his arm behind me to grip the bar. “Yeah, what of it?”

“I saw you fight Shawn Smith last year, man. I thought I was about to witness someone's death!”

Travis glowered down at him. “You wanna see it again?”

Ethan laughed once, his eyes darting back and forth between us. When he realized Travis was serious, he smiled at me apologetically and left.

“Are you ready, now?” he snapped.

“You are a complete asshole, you know that?”

“I've been called worse,” he said, helping me off the stool.

We followed America and Shepley to the car, and when Travis tried to grab my hand to lead me across the parking lot, I yanked it away. He wheeled around and I jerked to a stop, leaning back when he came within a few inches of my face.

“I should just kiss you and get it over with!” he yelled. “You're being ridiculous! I kissed your neck, so what?”

I could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath and I pushed him away. “I'm not your fuck buddy, Travis.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I never said you were! You're around me 24-7, you sleep in my bed, but half the time you act like you don't wanna be seen with me!”

“I came here with you!”

“I have never treated you with anything but respect, Pidge.”

I stood my ground. “No, you just treat me like your property. You had no right to run Ethan off like that!”

“Do you know who Ethan is?” he asked. When I shook my head, he leaned in closer. “I do. He was arrested last year for sexual battery, but the charges were dropped.”

I crossed my arms. “Oh, so you have something in common?”

Travis's eyes narrowed, and the muscles in his jaws twitched under his skin. “Are you calling me a rapist?” he said in a cold, low tone.

I pressed my lips together, even angrier that he was right. I had taken it too far. “No, I'm just pissed at you!”

“I've been drinking, all right? Your skin was three inches from my face, and you're beautiful, and you smell fucking awesome when you sweat. I kissed you! I'm sorry! Get over yourself!”

His excuse made the corners of my mouth turn up. “You think I'm beautiful?”

He frowned with disgust. “You're gorgeous and you know it. What are you smiling about?”

I tried to quell my amusement to no avail. “Nothing. Let's go.”

Travis laughed once and shook his head. “Wha …? You …? You're a pain in my ass!” he yelled, glaring at me. I couldn't stop smiling, and after a few seconds, Travis's mouth turned up. He shook his head again, and then hooked his arm around my neck. “You're making me crazy. You know that, right?”

At the apartment, we all stumbled through the door. I made a beeline for the bathroom to wash the smoke out of my hair. When I stepped out of the shower, I saw that Travis had brought me one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers to change into.

The shirt swallowed me, and the boxers disappeared under the shirt. I crashed into the bed and sighed, still smiling at what he'd said in the parking lot.

Travis stared at me for a moment, and I felt a twinge in my chest. I had an almost ravenous urge to grab his face and plant my mouth on his, but I fought against the alcohol and hormones raging through my bloodstream.

“Night, Pidge,” he whispered, turning over.

I fidgeted, not yet ready to sleep. “Trav?” I said, leaning up to rest my chin on his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I know I'm drunk, and we just got into a ginormous fight over this, but …”

“I'm not having sex with you, so quit asking,” he said, his back still turned to me.

“What? No!” I cried.

Travis laughed and turned, looking at me with a soft expression. “What, Pigeon?”

I sighed. “This,” I said, laying my head on his chest and stretching my arm across his middle, snuggling as close to him as I could.

He stiffened and held his hands up, as if he didn't know how to react. “You are drunk.”

“I know,” I said, too intoxicated to be embarrassed.

He relaxed one hand against my back, and the other on my wet hair, and then pressed his lips to my forehead. “You are the most confusing woman I've ever met.”

“It's the least you can do after scaring off the only guy that approached me tonight.”

“You mean Ethan the rapist? Yeah, I owe you for that one.”

“Never mind,” I said, feeling the beginning of a rejection coming on.

He grabbed my arm and held it on his stomach to keep me from pulling away. “No, I'm serious. You need to be more careful. If I wasn't there … I don't even want to think about it. And now you expect me to apologize for running him off?”

“I don't want you to apologize. It's not even about that.”

“Then what's it about?” he asked, searching my eyes for something. His face was just a few inches from mine, and I could feel his breath on my lips.

I frowned. “I'm drunk, Travis. It's the only excuse I have.”

“You just want me to hold you until you fall asleep?”

I didn't answer.

He shifted to look straight into my eyes. “I should say no to prove a point,” he said, his eyebrows pulling together. “But I would hate myself later if I said no and you never asked me again.”

I nestled my cheek against his chest, and he tightened his arms, sighing. “You don't need an excuse, Pigeon. All you have to do is ask.”

· · ·

I cringed at the sunlight pouring through the window and the alarm blaring into my ear. Travis was still asleep, surrounding me with both his arms and his legs. I maneuvered an arm free to reach over and pound the snooze button. Wiping my face, I looked over at him, sleeping soundly two inches from my face.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, wondering how we'd managed to become so tangled. I took a deep breath and held it as I worked to free myself from his grip.

“Stop it, Pidge, I'm sleepin',” he mumbled, squeezing me against him.

After several attempts, I finally slid from his grip and sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at his half-naked body draped in covers. I watched him for a moment and sighed. The lines were becoming blurred, and it was my fault.

His hand slid across the sheets and he touched my fingers. “What's wrong, Pigeon?” he said, his eyes barely open.

“I'm going to get a glass of water, you want anything?” Travis shook his head and closed his eyes, his cheek flat against the mattress.

“Morning, Abby,” Shepley said from the recliner when I rounded the corner.

“Where's Mare?”

“Still sleeping. What are you doing up so early?” he asked, looking at the clock.

“The alarm went off, but I always wake up early after I drink. It's a curse.”

“Me, too,” he nodded.

“You better get Mare up. We have class in an hour,” I said, turning on the tap, and leaning over to take a sip.

Shepley nodded. “I was just going to let her sleep.”

“Don't do that. She'll be mad if she misses.”

“Oh,” he said, standing up. “Better wake her, then.” He wheeled around. “Hey, Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't know what's going on with you and Travis, but I know that he's going to do something stupid to piss you off. It's a tic he has. He doesn't get close with anyone very often, and for whatever reason he's let you in. But you have to overlook his demons. It's the only way he'll know.”

“Know what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at his melodramatic speech.

“If you'll climb over the wall,” he answered simply.

I shook my head and chuckled. “Whatever you say, Shep.”

Shepley shrugged, and then disappeared into his bedroom. I heard soft murmurs, a protesting groan, and then America's sweet giggling.

I swirled the oatmeal around in my bowl, and squeezed the chocolate syrup in as I stirred.

“That's sick, Pidge,” Travis said, wearing only a pair of green plaid boxers. He rubbed his eyes and pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet.

“Good morning to you, too,” I said, snapping the cap on the bottle.

“I hear your birthday is coming up. Last stand of your teenage years,” he grinned, his eyes puffy and red.

“Yeah … I'm not a big birthday person. I think Mare is going to take me to dinner or something.” I smiled, “You can come if you want.”

“All right,” he shrugged. “It's a week from Sunday?”

“Yes. When's your birthday?”

He poured the milk, dunking the flakes with his spoon, “Not 'til April. April first.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I'm serious.” he said, chewing.

“Your birthday is on April Fools'?” I asked again, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. “Yes! You're gonna be late. I better get dressed.”

“I'm riding with Mare.”

I could tell he was being intentionally cool when he shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, turning his back to me to finish his cereal.

“He's definitely staring at you,” America whispered, leaning back to peek across the room.

“Stop looking, dummy, he's going to see you.”

America smiled and waved. “He's already seen me. He's still staring.”

I hesitated for a moment and then finally worked up enough courage to look in his direction. Parker was looking right at me, grinning.

I returned his smile and then pretended to type something on my laptop.

“Is he still staring?” I murmured.

“Yep,” she giggled.

After class, Parker stopped me in the hall.

“Don't forget about the party this weekend.”

“I won't,” I said, trying not to bat my eyes or do anything else ridiculous.

America and I made our way across the lawn to the cafeteria to meet Travis and Shepley for lunch. She was still laughing about Parker's behavior when Shepley and Travis approached.

“Hey, baby,” America said, kissing her boyfriend square on the mouth.

“What's so funny?” Shepley asked.

“Oh, a guy in class was staring at Abby all hour. It was adorable.”

“As long as he was staring at Abby,” Shepley winked.

“Who was it?” Travis grimaced.

I readjusted my backpack, prompting Travis to slide it off my arms and hold it. I shook my head. “Mare's imagining things.”

“Abby! You big fat liar! It was Parker Hayes, and he was being so obvious. The guy was practically drooling.”

Travis's expression twisted into disgust. “Parker Hayes?”

Shepley pulled on America's hand. “We're headed to lunch. Will you be enjoying the fine cafeteria cuisine this afternoon?”

America kissed him again in answer, and Travis and I followed behind. I sat my tray between America and Finch, but Travis didn't sit in his normal seat across from me. Instead, he sat a few seats down. It was then that I realized he hadn't said much during our walk to the cafeteria.

“Are you okay, Trav?” I asked.

“Me? Fine, why?” he said, smoothing the features of his face.

“You've just been quiet.”

Several members of the football team approached the table and sat down, laughing loudly. Travis looked a bit annoyed as he rolled his food around on his plate.

Chris Jenks tossed a french fry onto Travis's plate. “What's up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. She's been raking your name through the mud today.”

“Shut up, Jenks,” Travis said, keeping his eyes on his food.

I leaned forward so the brawny giant sitting in front of Travis could experience the full force of my glare. “Knock it off, Chris.”

Travis's eyes bored into mine. “I can take care of myself, Abby.”

“I'm sorry, I …”

“I don't want you to be sorry. I don't want you to be anything,” he snapped, shoving away from the table and storming out the door.

Finch looked over at me with raised eyebrows. “Whoa. What was that about?”

I stabbed a Tater Tot with my fork and puffed. “I don't know.”

Shepley patted my back. “It's nothing you did, Abby.”

“He just has stuff going on,” America added.

“What kind of stuff?” I asked.

Shepley shrugged and turned his attention to his plate. “You should know by now that it takes patience and a forgiving attitude to be friends with Travis. He's his own universe.”

I shook my head. “That's the Travis everyone else sees … not the Travis I know.”

Shepley leaned forward. “There's no difference. You just have to ride the wave.”

After class, I rode with America to the apartment to find Travis's motorcycle gone. I went into his room and curled into a ball on his bed, resting my head on my arm. Travis had been fine that morning. As much time as we had spent together, I couldn't believe I didn't see that something had been bothering him. Not only that, it disturbed me that America seemed to know what was going on and I didn't.