Jamie McGuire - Beautiful Disaster

I threw my comb at him and he ducked, shutting the door and laughing to himself all the way to his room. I brushed my teeth and then shuffled down the hall, passing Shepley’s bedroom on the way.

“Night, Abby,” America called from the darkness.

“Night, Mare.”

I hesitated before landing two soft knocks on Travis’ door.

“Come in, Pidge. You don’t have to knock.”

He pulled the door open and I walked in, seeing his black iron-rod bed parallel to the line of windows on the far side of the room. The walls were bare except for a lone sombrero above his headboard. I half-expected his room to be covered in posters of barely-clothed women, but I didn’t even see an advertisement for a beer brand. His bed was black, his carpet gray, everything else in the room was white. It looked as if he’d just moved in.

“Nice PJ’s,” Travis said, noting my yellow and navy plaid shorts, and grey Eastern tee. He sat on his bed and patted the pillow beside him. “Well, come on. I’m not going to bite you.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, walking over to the bed and dropping my biology book beside him. “Do you have a pen?”

He nodded to his night table. “Top drawer.”

I reached across the bed and pulled open the drawer, finding three pens, a pencil, a tube of KY jelly, and a clear, glass bowl overflowing with packages of different brands of condoms. Revolted, I grabbed a pen and shoved the drawer shut.

“What?” he asked, turning a page of my book.

“Did you rob the health clinic?”

“No. Why?”

I pulled the cap off the pen, unable to keep the sickened expression from my face. “Your lifetime supply of condoms.”

“Better safe than sorry, right?”

I rolled my eyes. Travis returned to the pages, a wry smile breaking across his lips. He read the notes to me, highlighting the main points while he asked me questions and patiently explained what I didn’t comprehend.

After an hour, I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. “I’m beat. I can’t memorize one more macromolecule.”

Travis smiled, closing my book. “All right.”

I paused, unsure of our sleeping arrangements. Travis left the room and walked down the hall, mumbling something into Shepley’s room before turning on the shower. I turned back the covers and then pulled them up to my neck, listening to the high-pitched whine of the water running through the pipes.

Ten minutes later, the water shut off, and the floors creaked under Travis’ steps. He strolled across the room with a towel wrapped around his hips. He had tattoos on opposite sides of his chest, and black tribal art covering each of his bulging shoulders. On his right arm, the black lines and symbols spanned from his shoulder to his wrist, on the left, the tattoos stopped at his elbow, with one single line of script on the underside of his forearm. I intentionally kept my back to him while he stood in front of his dresser and dropped his towel to slip on a pair of boxers.

After flipping off the light, he crawled into the bed beside me.

“You’re sleeping here, too?” I asked, turning to look at him. The full moon outside the windows cast shadows across his face. “Well, yeah. This is my bed.”

“I know, but I….” I paused. My only other options were the couch or the recliner.

Travis grinned and shook his head. “Don’t you trust me by now? I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear,” he said, holding up fingers that I was sure the Boy Scouts of America had never considered using.

I didn’t argue, I simply turned away and lay my head on the pillow, tucking the covers behind me so there was a clear barrier between his body and mine.

“Goodnight, Pigeon,” he whispered into my ear. I could feel his minty breath on my cheek, giving rise to goose bumps on every inch of my flesh. Thank God it was dark enough that he couldn’t see my embarrassing reaction, or the flush of my cheeks that followed.

It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when I heard the alarm. I reached over to turn it off, but wrenched back my hand in horror when I felt warm skin beneath my fingers. I tried to recall where I was. When the answer hit me, it mortified me that Travis might have thought I’d done it on purpose.

“Travis? Your alarm,” I whispered. He still didn’t move. “Travis!” I said, nudging him. When he still didn’t stir, I reached across him, fumbling in the dim light until I felt the top of the clock. Unsure of how to turn it off, I smacked the top of it until I hit the snooze button, and then fell against my pillow with a huff.

Travis chuckled.

“You were awake?”

“I promised I’d behave. I didn’t say anything about letting you lay on me.”

“I didn’t lay on you,” I protested. “I couldn’t reach the clock. That has to be the most annoying alarm I’ve ever heard. It sounds like a dying animal.”

He reached over and flipped a button. “You want breakfast?”

I glared at him, and then shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am. Why don’t you ride with me down the street to the café?”

“I don’t think I can handle your lack of driving skills this early in the morning,” I said. I swung my feet over the side of the bed and shoved them into my slippers, shuffling to the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To get dressed and go to class. Do you need an itinerary while I’m here?”

Travis stretched, and then walked over to me, still in his boxers. “Are you always so temperamental, or will that taper off once you believe I’m not just creating some elaborate scheme to get in your pants?” His hands cupped my shoulders and I felt his thumbs caress my skin in unison.

“I’m not temperamental.”

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to sleep with you, Pidge. I like you too much.”

He walked past me to the bathroom, and I stood, stunned. Kara’s words replayed in my mind. Travis Maddox slept with every one; I couldn’t help but feel deficient in some way knowing he had no desire to even try to sleep with me.

The door opened again, and America walked through. “Wakey, wakey, eggs ‘n bakey!” she smiled, yawning.

“You’re turning into your mother, Mare,” I grumbled, rifling through my suitcase.

“Oooh…did someone miss some sleep last night?”

“He barely breathed in my direction,” I said acerbically.

A knowing smile brightened America’s face. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Nothing,” she said, returning to Shepley’s room.

Travis was in the kitchen, humming a random tune while scrambling eggs. “You sure you don’t want some?” he asked.

“I’m sure. Thanks, though.”

Shepley and America walked in, and Shepley pulled two plates from the cabinet, holding them out as Travis shoveled a pile of steaming eggs onto each one. Shepley sat the plates on the bar, and he and America sat together, satisfying the appetite they more than likely worked up the night before.

“Don’t look at me like that, Shep. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go,” America said.

“Baby, the House has a date party twice a year,” Shepley spoke as he chewed. “It’s a month away. You’ll have plenty of time to find a dress and do all that girl stuff.”

“I would, Shep…that’s really sweet…but I’m not gonna know anyone there.”

“A lot of the girls that come don’t know a lot of people there,” he said, surprised at the rejection.

She slumped in her chair. “The sorority bitches get invited to those things. They’ll all know each other…it’ll be weird.”

“C’mon, Mare. Don’t make me go alone.”

“Well…maybe you could find someone to take Abby?” she said, looking at me, and then to Travis.

Travis raised an eyebrow, and Shepley shook his head. “Trav doesn’t go to the date parties. It’s something you take your girlfriend to…and Travis doesn’t…you know.”

America shrugged. “We could set her up with someone.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I can hear you, you know.”

America used the face she knew I couldn’t say no to. “Please, Abby? We’ll find you a nice guy that’s funny and witty, and you know I’ll make sure he’s hot…I promise you’ll have a good time! And who knows? Maybe you’ll hit it off.”

Travis threw the pan in the sink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take her.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t do me any favors, Travis.”

“That’s not what I meant, Pidge. Date parties are for the guys with girlfriends, and it’s common knowledge that I don’t do the girlfriend-thing. But I won’t have to worry about you expecting an engagement ring afterward.”

America jutted her lip out. “Pretty please, Abby?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” I complained. “Travis doesn’t want to go, I don’t want to go…we won’t be much fun.”

Travis crossed his arms and leaned against the sink. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I think it’d be fun if the four of us went,” he shrugged.

Everyone’s eyes focused on me, and I recoiled. “Why don’t we hang out here?”

America pouted and Shepley leaned forward. “Because I have to go, Abby. I’m a freshman; I have to make sure everything’s moving smoothly, everyone has a beer in their hand, things like that.”

Travis walked across the kitchen and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. “C’mon, Pidge. Will you go with me?”

I looked at America, then at Shepley, and finally to Travis. “Yes,” I sighed.

America squealed and hugged me, and then I felt Shepley’s hand on my back. “Thanks, Abby,” Shepley said.

Finch took another drag. The smoke flowed from his nose in two thick streams. I angled my face toward the sun as he regaled me with the recent weekend of dancing, booze and a very persistent new friend.