Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (24 page)

“Travis.”

The sound of her breathing my name unguarded me and put me over the edge. I had to go faster, press farther until every muscle in my body tensed. I groaned and jerked a few times before finally
collapsing.

I breathed in through my nose against her neck. She smelled like sweat, and her lotion . . . and me. It was fucking fantastic.

“That was some first kiss,” she said with a tired, contented expression.

I scanned her face and smiled. “Your last first kiss.”

Abby blinked, and then I fell onto the mattress beside her, reaching across her bare middle. Suddenly the morning was something to look forward to. It would be our first day together, and
instead of packing in poorly concealed misery, we could sleep in, spend a ridiculous amount of the morning in bed, and then just enjoy the day as a couple. That sounded pretty damn close to heaven
to me.

Three months ago, no one could have convinced me that I would feel that way. Now, there was nothing else I wanted more.

A big, relaxing breath moved my chest up and down slowly as I fell asleep next to the second woman I’d ever loved.

A
T FIRST, I DIDN
’
T PANIC. AT FIRST, A SLEEPY HAZE PROVIDED
just enough confusion to foster a
sense of calm. At first, when I reached for Abby across the sheets and didn’t feel her there, I felt just a small bit of disappointment, followed by curiosity.

She was probably in the bathroom, or maybe eating cereal on the couch. She’d just given her virginity to me, someone with whom she’d spend a lot of time and effort pretending not to
have more than platonic feelings. That was a lot to take in.

“Pidge?” I called. I lifted only my head, hoping she would crawl back in bed with me. But after several moments, I gave in, and sat up.

Having no idea what was in store, I slipped on the boxers I’d kicked off the night before, and slipped a T-shirt over my head.

My feet dragged down the hall to the bathroom door, and I knocked. The door opened a bit. I heard no movement but I called for her, anyway. “Pigeon?”

Opening the door wider revealed what was expected. Empty and dark. I then went into the living room, fully expecting to see her in the kitchen or on the couch, but she was nowhere.

“Pigeon?” I called, waiting for an answer.

Panic started to swell inside of me, but I refused to freak out until I knew what the hell was going on. I stomped into Shepley’s room and opened the door without knocking.

America lay next to Shepley, tangled in his arms the way I imagined Abby would have been in mine at that point.

“Have you guys seen Abby? I can’t find her.”

Shepley raised himself up onto his elbow, rubbing his eye with his knuckle. “Huh?”

“Abby,” I said, impatiently flipping on the light switch. Shepley and America both recoiled. “Have you seen her?”

Different scenarios ran through my mind, all causing different degrees of alarm. Maybe she had let out Toto, and someone had taken her, or hurt her, or maybe she’d fallen down the stairs.
But Toto’s claws were clicking against the floor down the hall, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe she went to get something out of America’s car.

I rushed to the front door and looked around. Then I jogged down the stairs, my eyes searching every inch between the front door of the apartment and America’s car.

Nothing. She’d vanished.

Shepley appeared in the doorway, squinting and hugging himself from the cold.

“Yeah. She woke us up early. She wanted to go home.”

I took the stairs back up two at a time, grabbing Shepley’s bare shoulders, pushing him back all the way to the opposite side of the room, and grinding him into the wall. He gripped my
T-shirt, a half-frowning, half-stunned expression on his face.

“What the—” he began.

“You took her home? To Morgan? In the middle of the fucking night? Why?”

“Because she asked me to!”

I shoved him against the wall again, blinding rage beginning to take over my system.

America came out of the bedroom, her hair ratted and her mascara smeared below her eyes. She was in her robe, tightening the belt around her waist. “What the hell is going on?” she
asked, pausing midstep at the sight of me.

Shepley jerked out his arm and held out his hand. “Mare, stay back.”

“Was she angry? Was she upset? Why did she leave?” I asked through my teeth.

America took another step. “She just hates goodbyes, Travis! I wasn’t surprised at all that she wanted to leave before you woke up!”

I held Shepley against the wall and looked to America. “Was she . . . was she crying?”

I imagined Abby disgusted that she’d allowed some asshole like me, someone she didn’t give a shit about, taking her virginity, and then I thought maybe I’d somehow,
accidentally hurt her.

America’s face twisted from fear, to confusion, to anger. “Why,” she said. Her tone was more an accusation than a question. “Why would she be crying or upset,
Travis?”

“Mare,” Shepley warned.

America took another step. “What did you do?”

I released Shepley, but he took a fistful of my shirt as I faced his girlfriend.

“Was she crying?” I demanded.

America shook her head. “She was fine! She just wanted to go home! What did you do?” she yelled.

“Did something happen?” Shepley asked.

Without thinking, I flipped around and swung, nearly missing Shepley’s face.

America screamed, covering her mouth with her hands. “Travis, stop!” she said through her hands.

Shepley wrapped his arms around mine at the elbows, his face just a couple of inches from mine. “Call her!” he yelled. “Fucking calm down, and call Abby!”

Quick, light footsteps ran down the hall and back. America returned, her hand outstretched, holding my phone. “Call her.”

I snatched it from her hand and dialed Abby’s number. It rang until the voice mail picked up. I hung up and dialed again. And again. And again. She wasn’t answering. She hated
me.

I dropped the phone to the ground, my chest heaving. When tears burned my eyes, I picked up the first thing my hands touched, and launched it across the room. Whatever it was splintered into
large pieces.

Turning, I saw the stools situated directly across from each other, reminding me of our dinner. I picked one up by the legs and smashed it against the refrigerator until it broke. The
refrigerator door popped open, and I kicked it. The force caused it to spring open again, so I kicked it again, and again, until Shepley finally rushed over to keep it closed.

I stomped to my room. The messy sheets on the bed mocked me. My arms flung in every direction as I ripped them off the mattress—fitted sheet, top sheet, and blanket—and then returned
to the kitchen to throw them in the trash, and then I did the same with the pillows. Still insane with anger, I stood in my room, willing myself to calm down, but there was nothing to calm down
for. I’d lost everything.

Pacing, I stopped in front of the nightstand. The thought of Abby reaching into the drawer came to mind. The hinges squeaked when I opened it, revealing the fishbowl full of condoms. I had
barely delved into them since I’d met Abby. Now that she’d made her choice, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

The glass was cold in my hand as I picked it up and launched it across the room. It made contact with the wall beside the door and shattered, spraying small foil packages in every direction.

My reflection in the mirror above my dresser looked back at me. My chin was down, and I stared into my eyes. My chest heaved, I was shaking, and by anyone’s standards looked insane, but
control was so far out of my reach at that point. I reared back and slammed my fist into the mirror. Shards stabbed into my knuckles, leaving behind a bloody circle.

“Travis, stop!” Shepley said from the hall. “Stop it, God dammit!”

I rushed him, pushed him back, and then slammed my door shut. I pressed my hands flat against the wood, and then took a step back, kicking it until my foot made a dent at the bottom. I yanked on
the sides until it came off the hinges, and then I tossed it across the room.

Shepley’s arms grabbed me again. “I said stop!” he screamed. “You’re scaring America!” The vein in his forehead popped out, the one that appeared only when he
was enraged.

I shoved him, and he shoved me back. I took another swing, but he ducked.

“I’ll go see her!” America pleaded. “I’ll find out if she’s okay, and I’ll have her call you!”

I let my hands fall to my sides. Despite the cold air filling the apartment from the open front door, sweat was dripping from my temples. My chest heaved as if I’d run a marathon.

America ran to Shepley’s room. Within five minutes, she was dressed, knotting her hair into a bun. Shepley helped her slip on her coat and then kissed her goodbye, offering a nod of
assurance. She grabbed her keys and let the door slam behind her.

“Sit. The fuck. Down,” Shepley said, pointing to the recliner.

I closed my eyes, then did what he commanded. My hands shook as I brought them to my face.

“You’re lucky. I was two seconds away from calling Jim. And every brother you’ve got.”

I shook my head. “Don’t call Dad,” I said. “Don’t call him.” Salty tears burned my eyes.

“Talk.”

“I bagged her. I mean, I didn’t
bag
her, we . . .”

Shepley nodded. “Last night was tough for both of you. Who’s idea was it?”

“Hers.” I blinked. “I tried to pull away. Offered to wait, but she all but begged me.”

Shepley looked as confused as I felt.

I threw up my hands and let them fall to my lap. “Maybe I hurt her, I don’t know.”

“How did she act after? Did she say anything?”

I thought for a moment. “She said it was some first kiss.”

“Huh?”

“She let it slip a few weeks ago that a first kiss makes her nervous, and I made fun of her.”

Shepley’s brows pushed together. “That doesn’t sound like she was upset.”

“I said it was her last first kiss.” I laughed once and used the bottom of my T-shirt to pinch the moisture from my nose. “I thought everything was good, Shep. That she had
finally let me in. Why would she ask me to . . . and then just leave?”

Shepley shook his head slowly, as confused as I was. “I don’t know, cousin. America will find out. We’ll know something soon.”

I stared at the floor, thinking about what could possibly happen next. “What am I gonna do?” I asked, looking up at him.

Shepley gripped my forearm. “You’re going to clean up your mess to keep you busy until they call.”

I walked into my room. The door was lying on my bare mattress, pieces of mirror and shattered glass on the floor. It looked like a bomb had gone off.

Shepley appeared in the doorway with a broom, a dustpan, and a screwdriver. “I’ll get the glass. You get the door.”

I nodded, pulling the large wooden plank from the bed. Just after making the last turn on the screwdriver, my cell phone rang. I scrambled off the floor to snap it up from the night table.

It was America.

“Mare?” I choked out.

“It’s me.” Abby’s voice was small and nervous.

I wanted to beg her back, to beg for her forgiveness, but I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong. Then, I got angry.

“What the fuck happened to you last night? I wake up this morning, and you’re gone and you . . . you just leave and don’t say goodbye?
Why?
”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“You’re
sorry
? I’ve been going crazy! You don’t answer your phone, you sneak out and—wh-
why
? I thought we finally had everything figured
out!”

“I just needed some time to think.”

“About what?” I paused, afraid of how she might answer the question I was about to ask. “Did I . . . did I hurt you?”

“No! It’s nothing like that! I’m really, really sorry. I’m sure America told you. I don’t do goodbyes.”

“I need to see you,” I said, desperate.

Abby sighed. “I have a lot to do today, Trav. I have to unpack and I have piles of laundry.”

“You regret it.”

“It’s not . . . that’s not what it is. We’re friends. That’s not going to change.”

“
Friends?
Then what the fuck was last night?”

I could hear her breath catch. “I know what you want. I just can’t do that right now.”

“So you just need some time? You could have told me that. You didn’t have to run out on me.”

“It just seemed like the easiest way.”

“Easier for who?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about what it would be like in the morning, loading Mare’s car . . . and I couldn’t do it, Trav.”

“It’s bad enough that you aren’t going to be here anymore. You can’t just drop out of my life.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, trying hard to sound casual. “I don’t want anything to be weird, okay? I just need to sort some stuff out. That’s
all.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can do that.”

The line went silent, and Shepley watched me, wary. “Travis . . . you just got the door hung. No more messes, okay?”

My entire face crumpled, and I nodded my head. I tried to be angry, that was much easier to control than the overwhelming, physical pain in my chest, but all I felt was wave after wave of
sadness. I was too tired to fight it.

“What did she say?”

“She needs time.”

“Okay. So, that’s not the end. You can work with that, right?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I can work with that.”

The dustpan jingled with the shards of glass as Shepley walked with it down the hall. Left alone in the bedroom, surrounded by pictures of me and Abby, made me want to break something again, so
I went into the living room to wait for America.

Thankfully, it didn’t take her long to return. I imagined that she was probably worried about Shepley.

The door opened, and I stood. “Is she with you?”

“No. She’s not.”

“Did she say anything else?”

America swallowed, hesitating to answer. “She said she’ll keep her promise, and that by this time tomorrow, you won’t miss her.”