Jamie McGuire - Beautiful Disaster

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.”

I shook my head. “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 Fool’s?” 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’ 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’ 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’ 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’ 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.

My breathing evened out and my eyes grew heavy; it wasn’t long before I fell asleep. When my eyes opened again, the night sky had darkened the window. Muffled voices filtered down the hall from the living room, including Travis’ deep tone. I crept down the hall, and then froze when I heard my name.

“Abby gets it, Trav. Don’t beat yourself up,” Shepley said.

“You’re already going to the date party. What’s the harm in asking her out?” America asked.

I stiffened, waiting for his response. “I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”

“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.

“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”

“You’re closer to her type than you know,” America said.

I backed up as quietly as I could, and when the wooden boards creaked beneath my bare feet, I reached over to pull Travis’ bedroom door shut, and then walked down the hall.

“Hey, Abby,” America smiled. “How was your nap?”

“I was out for five hours. That’s closer to a coma than a nap.”

Travis stared at me for a moment, and when I smiled at him, he walked straight toward me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down the hall to his bedroom. He shut the door, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest, bracing for him to say something else to crush my ego.

His eyebrows pulled in. “I’m so sorry, Pidge. I was an asshole to you earlier.”

I relaxed a bit, seeing the remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t know you were mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. It’s a piss poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,” he said, enveloping me in his arms.

I nestled my cheek against his chest, settling in. “What were you mad about?”