I laughed. “Prometa Anatela?”

“Prophase, Metaphase, Anaphase and Telophase.”

“Prometa Anatela,” I repeated, nodding.

He smacked the top of my head with the papers. “You got this. You know this study guide backwards and forwards.”

I sighed. “Well…we’ll see.”

“I’m going to walk you to class. I’ll quiz you on the way.”

I locked the door behind us. “You’re not going to be mad if I flunk this test, are you?”

“You’re not going to flunk, Pidge. We need to start earlier for the next one, though,” he said, keeping in-step with me to the science building.

“How are you going to tutor me, do your homework, study and train for your fights?”

Travis chuckled. “I don’t train for my fights. Adam calls me, tells me where the fight is, and I go.”

I shook my head in disbelief as he held the paper in front of him to ask the first question. We nearly finished a second round of the study guide when we reached my class.

“Kick ass,” he smiled, handing me the notes and leaning against the door jamb.

“Hey, Trav.”

I turned to see a tall, somewhat lanky man smile at Travis on his way into the classroom.

“Parker,” Travis nodded.

Parker’s eyes brightened a bit when he looked to me, and he smiled. “Hi, Abby.”

“Hi,” I said, surprised that he knew my name. I had seen him in class, but we’d never met.

Parker continued to his seat, joking with those sitting beside him. “Who’s that?” I asked.

Travis shrugged, but the skin around his eyes seemed tenser than before. “Parker Hayes. He’s one of my Sig Tau brothers.”

“You’re in a frat?” I asked, doubtful.

“Sigma Tau, same as Shep. I thought you knew that,” he said, looking beyond me to Parker.

“Well…you don’t seem the…fraternity type,” I said, eyeing the tattoos on his forearms.

Travis turned his attention to me and grinned. “My dad is an alumn, and my brothers are all Sig Tau’s…it’s a family thing.”

“And they expected you to pledge?” I asked, skeptical.

“Not really. They’re just good guys,” he said, flicking my papers. “Better get to class.”

“Thanks for helping me,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. America passed, and I followed her to our seats.

“How did it go?” she asked.

I shrugged. “He’s a good tutor.”

“Just a tutor?”

“He’s a good friend, too.”

She seemed disappointed, and I giggled at the fallen expression on her face.

It had always been a dream of America’s for us to date friends, and roommates-slash-cousins, for her, was hitting the jackpot. She wanted us to room together when she decided to come with me to Eastern, but I vetoed her idea, hoping to spread my wings a bit. Once she finished pouting, she focused on finding a friend of Shepley’s to introduce me to.

Travis’ healthy interest in me had surpassed her ideas.

I breezed through the test and sat on the steps outside the building, waiting for America. When she slumped down beside me in defeat, I waited for her to speak.

“That was awful!” she cried.

“You should study with us. Travis explains it really well.”

America groaned and leaned her head on my shoulder. “You were no help at all! Couldn’t you have given me a courtesy nod or something?” I hooked my arm around her neck and walked her to our dorm.


Over the next week, Travis helped with my history paper and tutored me in Biology. We stood together scanning the grade board outside Professor Campbell’s office. My student number was three spots from the top.

“Third highest test grade in the class! Nice, Pidge!” he said, squeezing me. His eyes were bright with excitement and pride, and an awkward feeling made me to take a step back.

“Thanks, Trav. Couldn’t have done it without you,” I said, pulling on his t-shirt.

He tossed me over his shoulder, making his way through the crowd behind us. “Make way! Move it, people! Let’s make room for this poor woman’s hideously disfigured, ginormous brain! She’s a fucking genius!”

I giggled at the amused and curious expressions of my classmates.


As the days went by, we fielded the persistent rumors about a relationship. Travis’ reputation helped to quiet the gossip. He had never been known to stay with one girl longer than a night, so the more times we were seen together, the more people understood our platonic relationship for what it was. Even with the constant questions of our involvement, the stream of attention Travis received from his co-eds didn’t recede.

He continued to sit next to me in History, and eat with me at lunch. It didn’t take long to realize I had been wrong about him, even finding myself defensive towards those that didn’t know Travis the way that I did.

In the cafeteria, Travis set a can of orange juice in front of me.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab one,” I said, peeling off my jacket.

“Well, now you don’t have to,” he said, flashing the dimple on his left cheek.

Brazil snorted. “Did she turn you into a cabana boy, Travis? What’s next, fanning her with a palm tree leaf, wearing a Speedo?”

Travis shot him a murderous glare, and I jumped to his defense. “You couldn’t fill a Speedo, Brazil. Shut the hell up.”

“Easy, Abby! I was kidding!” Brazil said, holding up his hands.

“Just…don’t talk about him like that,” I said, frowning.

Travis’ expression was a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Now I’ve seen it all. I was just defended by a girl,” he said, standing up. Before he left with his tray, he offered one more warning glare to Brazil, and then walked outside to stand with a small group of fellow smokers outside the building.

I tried not to watch him while he laughed and talked. Every girl in the group subtly competed for the space next to him, and America shoved her elbow in my ribs when she noticed my attention was elsewhere.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Abby?”

“Nothing. I’m not looking at anything.”

She rested her chin on her hand and shook her head. “They’re so obvious. Look at the red head. She’s ran her fingers through her hair as many times as she’s blinked. I wonder if Travis gets tired of that.”

Shepley nodded. “He does. Everyone thinks he’s this asshole, but if they only knew how much patience he has dealing with every girl that thinks she can tame him…he can’t go anywhere without them bugging him. Trust me; he’s much more polite than I would be.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t love it,” America said, kissing his cheek.

Travis was finishing his cigarette outside the cafeteria when I passed. “Wait up, Pidge. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to walk me to every class, Travis. I know how to get there on my own.”

Travis was easily sidetracked by a girl with long, black hair and a short skirt walking by that smiled at him. He followed her with his eyes and nodded in the girl’s direction, throwing down his cigarette.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Pidge.”

“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes as he jogged to the girl’s side.

Travis’ seat remained empty during class, and I found myself a bit aggravated with him for missing over a girl he didn’t know. Professor Chaney dismissed early, and I hurried across the lawn, aware that I was to meet Finch at three to give him Sherri Cassidy’s Music Appreciation notes. I looked at my watch and quickened my pace.

“Abby?”

Parker jogged across the grass to walk beside me. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” he said, holding out his hand. “Parker Hayes.”

I took his hand and smiled. “Abby Abernathy.”

“I was behind you when you got your bio test grade. Congratulations,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks. Travis helped, or I would’ve been at the bottom of that list, trust me.”

“Oh, are you guys….”

“Friends.”

Parker nodded and smiled. “Did he tell you there’s a party at the House this weekend?”

“We mostly just talk about Biology and food.”

Parker laughed. “That sounds like Travis.”

At the door of Morgan Hall, Parker scanned my face with his big green eyes. “You should come. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll talk to America. I don’t think we have any plans.”

“Are you a package deal?”

“We made a pact this summer. No parties solo.”

“Smart,” he nodded in approval.

“She met Shep at orientation, so I haven’t really had to tag along with her much. This will be the first time I’ve needed to ask her, so I’m sure she’ll be happy to come.” I inwardly cringed. Not only was I babbling, I’d made it obvious that I didn’t get asked to parties.

“Great. I’ll see you there,” he said. He flashed his perfect, Banana Republic-model smile with his square jaw and naturally tan skin, turning to walk across campus.

I watched him walk away; he was tall, clean shaven, with a pressed pin-striped dress shirt and jeans. His wavy, dark-blonde hair bounced when he walked.

I bit my lip, flattered by his invitation.

“Now he’s more your speed,” Finch said in my ear.

“He’s cute, huh?” I asked, unable to stop smiling.

“Hell yes, he’s cute…in that preppy, missionary position kind of way.”

“Finch!” I cried, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Did you get Sherri’s notes?”

“I did,” I said, pulling them from my bag. He lit a cigarette, held it between his lips, and squinted at the papers.

“Fucking brilliant,” he said, scanning the pages. He folded them away in his pocket, and then took another drag. “Good thing Morgan’s boilers are out. You’ll need a cold shower after getting ogled by that tall drink of water.”