Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (26 page)

“You thought it was perfect, huh? Does that mean you had a good time?”

“I always do when I’m with you.”

My eyes fell, and I felt my features compress into a frown. “Did he kiss you?”

“Yes.” She sighed, irritated.

My eyes closed tight, knowing my next question could result in disaster. “Is that all?”

“That is
none
of your business!” she said, yanking open the door.

I pushed it closed and stood in her way. “I need to know.”

“No you don’t! Move, Travis!” she jabbed her elbow into my side, trying to get by.

“Pigeon . . .”

“You think because I’m no longer a virgin, I’ll screw anyone that’ll have me?
Thanks!
” she said, shoving my shoulder.

“I didn’t say that, damn it! Is it too much to ask for a little peace of mind?”

“
Why
would it give you peace of mind to know if I’m sleeping with Parker?”

“How can you not know? It’s obvious to everyone else but you!”

“I guess I’m just an idiot, then. You’re on a roll tonight, Trav,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

I cupped her shoulders. She was doing it again, the oblivious routine I’d become so accustomed to. The time to show my cards was now. “The way I feel about you . . . it’s
crazy.”

“You got the crazy part right,” she snapped, pulling away from me.

“I practiced this in my head the whole time we were on the bike, so just hear me out.”

“Travis—”

“I know we’re fucked up, all right? I’m impulsive and hot tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then you need me the
next. I never get anything right, and I don’t deserve you . . . but I fucking
love
you, Abby. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, ever. When you’re
around, I don’t need booze or money or the fighting or the one-night stands . . . all I need is you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. You’re all I
want.”

She didn’t speak for several seconds. Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes looked dazed as she processed everything I’d said. She blinked a few times.

I cupped each side of her face and looked into her eyes. “Did you sleep with him?”

Abby’s eyes glossed over, and then she shook her head no. Without another thought, my lips slammed into hers, and I slipped my tongue inside her mouth. She didn’t push me away;
instead her tongue challenged mine, and she gripped my T-shirt in her fists, pulling me close. An involuntary hum emanated from my throat, and I wrapped my arms around her.

When I knew I had my answer, I pulled back, breathless. “Call Parker. Tell him you don’t wanna see him anymore. Tell him you’re with me.”

She closed her eyes. “I
can’t
be with you, Travis.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked, letting go.

Abby shook her head. She had proven herself unpredictable a million times before, but the way she kissed me had meant more than friendship, and had too much behind it to just be sympathy. That
left me with only one conclusion.

“Unbelievable. The one girl I want, and she doesn’t want me.”

She hesitated before she spoke. “When America and I moved out here, it was with the understanding that my life was going to turn out a certain way. Or, that it
wouldn’t
turn
out a certain way. The fighting, the gambling, the drinking . . . it’s what I left behind. When I’m around you it’s all right there for me in an irresistible, tattooed package. I
didn’t move hundreds of miles away to live it all over again.”

“I know you deserve better than me. You think I don’t know that? But if there was any woman made for me . . . it’s you. I’ll do whatever I have to do, Pidge. Do you hear
me? I’ll do anything.”

She turned away from me, but I wouldn’t give up. She was finally talking, and if she walked away this time, we might not get another chance.

I held the door shut with my hand. “I’ll stop fighting the second I graduate. I won’t drink a single drop again. I’ll give you the happy ever after, Pigeon. If you just
believe in me, I can do it.”

“I don’t
want
you to change.”

“Then tell me what to do. Tell me and I’ll do it,” I pleaded.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked.

I frowned, unsure what she would do. “Sure.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, handing it to her.

She fingered the buttons for a moment, and then dialed, closing her eyes as she waited.

“I’m sorry for calling you so early,” she stammered, “but this couldn’t wait. I . . . can’t go to dinner with you on Wednesday.”

She had called Parker. My hands trembled with apprehension, wondering if she was going to ask him to pick her up—to save her—or something else.

She continued, “I can’t see you at all, actually. I’m . . . pretty sure I’m in love with Travis.”

My whole world stopped. I tried to replay her words over. Had I heard them correctly? Did she really just say what I thought she had, or was it just wishful thinking?

Abby handed the phone back to me, and then reluctantly peered up into my eyes.

“He hung up,” she said with a frown.

“You love me?”

“It’s the tattoos,” she said, flippant and shrugging, as if she hadn’t just said the one thing I’d ever wanted to hear.

Pigeon loved me.

A wide smile stretched across my face. “Come home with me,” I said, enveloping her in my arms.

Abby’s eyebrows shot up. “You said all that to get me in bed? I must have made quite an impression.”

“The only thing I’m thinking about right now is holding you in my arms all night.”

“Let’s go.”

I didn’t hesitate. Once Abby was securely on the back of my bike, I raced home, taking every shortcut, rushing every yellow light, and weaving in and out of the little traffic there was at
that time of the morning.

When we reached the apartment, turning off the engine and lifting Abby into my arms seemed simultaneous.

She giggled against my lips as I fumbled with the bolt lock on the front door. When I set her down and closed the door behind us, I let out a long, relieved sigh.

“It hasn’t seemed like home since you left,” I said, kissing her again.

Toto scampered down the hall and wagged his shaggy tail, pawing at Abby’s legs. He’d missed her almost as much as I had.

Shepley’s bed squeaked, and then his feet stomped across the floor. His door flew open as he squinted from the light. “Fuck no, Trav, you’re not pulling this shit! You’re
in love with Ab . . .”—his eyes focused and he recognized his mistake—“by. Hey, Abby.”

“Hey, Shep,” Abby said with an amused smile, setting Toto on the floor.

Before Shepley could ask questions, I pulled Abby down the hall. We crashed into each other. I hadn’t planned on anything but having her next to me in the bed, but she yanked my shirt up
and over my head with intention. I helped her with her jacket, and then she stripped off her sweater and tank top. There was no questioning the look in her eyes, and I wasn’t about to
argue.

Soon we were both completely naked, and the small voice inside of me wanting to savor the moment and take things slow was easily overpowered by Abby’s desperate kisses and the soft hums
she made whenever I touched her pretty much anywhere.

I lowered her to the mattress, and her hand shot out toward the nightstand. Instantly, I remembered my unceremonious breaking of the fishbowl of condoms to pledge my intended celibacy.

“Shit,” I said, panting. “I got rid of them.”

“
What? All
of them?”

“I thought you didn’t . . . if I wasn’t with you, I wasn’t going to need them.”

“You’re kidding me!” she said, letting her head fall against the headboard in frustration.

I leaned down, breathing hard, resting my forehead against her chest. “Consider yourself the opposite of a foregone conclusion.”

The next moments were a blur. Abby did some weird counting, concluding that she couldn’t get pregnant that particular week, and before I knew it, I was inside of her, feeling every part of
her against every part of me. I had never been with a girl without that thin sheath of latex, but apparently a fraction of a millimeter made a lot of difference. Every movement created equally
overpowering conflicting feelings: delaying the inevitable, or giving in because it felt so fucking good.

When Abby’s hips rose against mine, and her uncontrolled groans and whimpers escalated to a loud, satisfied cry, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Abby,” I whispered, desperate. “I need a . . . I need to . . .”

“Don’t stop,” she begged. Her fingernails dug into my back.

I rocked into her again one last time. I must have been loud, because Abby’s hand flew up to my mouth. I closed my eyes, letting everything go, feeling my eyebrows press together while my
body convulsed and stiffened. Breathing hard, I looked into Abby’s eyes. Wearing only a tired, satisfied smile, she peered up at me, waiting for something. I kissed her over and over, and
then cupped each side of her face with my hands, kissing her again, this time more tenderly.

Abby’s breathing slowed, and she sighed. I leaned my body to the side, relaxing next to her, and then pulled her against me. She rested her cheek against my chest, her hair cascading down
my arm. I kissed her forehead once more, locking my fingers together at the small of her back.

“Don’t leave this time, okay? I wanna wake up just like this in the morning.”

Abby kissed my chest, but didn’t look up. “I’m not going anywhere.”

THAT MORNING, LYING WITH THE WOMAN I LOVED, A SILENT
promise was formed in my head. I was going to be a better man for her, someone she deserved. No
more flying off the handle. No more temper tantrums, or violent outbursts.

Every time I pressed my lips against her skin, waiting for her to wake up, I repeated that promise in my mind.

Dealing with life outside the apartment while trying to stay true to that promise proved to be a struggle. For the first time, I not only gave a shit about someone, but I was also desperate to
keep them. Feelings of overprotection and jealousy chipped away at the oath I’d made just a few hours before.

By lunchtime, Chris Jenks had pissed me off and I regressed. Abby was thankfully patient and forgiving, even when I threatened Parker not twenty minutes later.

Abby had proved more than once that she could accept me for who I was, but I didn’t want to be the violent asshole everyone was used to. Mixing my rages with these new feelings of jealousy
was more difficult to control than I could have imagined.

I resorted to avoiding situations that could throw me into a rage, and remaining oblivious to the knowledge that not only was Abby insanely hot, every dick on campus was curious how she had
tamed the one man they thought would never settle down. It seemed they were all waiting for me to fuck up so they could try her out, which only made me more agitated and cantankerous.

To keep my mind occupied, I focused on making it clear to the coeds that I was off the market, which had pissed off half the school’s female population.

Walking into the Red with Abby on Halloween, I noticed that the sharp, late fall air didn’t hinder the number of women wearing an array of slutty costumes. I hugged my girlfriend to my
side, grateful that she wasn’t one to dress up as Prostitute Barbie, or a football-player-slash-transvestite-whore, which meant that the number of threats I would have to make for staring at
her tits or worrying about her bending over would be kept to a minimum.

Shepley and I played pool while the girls looked on. We were winning again, after having already pocketed $360 from the last two games.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Finch approach America and Abby. They giggled for a while, and then Finch pulled them onto the dance floor. Abby’s beauty stood out, even amid the bare
skin, glitter, and glaring cleavage of the naughty Snow Whites and sleazy referees around her.

Before the song was over, America and Abby left Finch on the dance floor and headed toward the bar. I stretched up onto my toes to find the tops of their heads in the sea of people.

“You’re up,” Shepley said.

“The girls are gone.”

“They probably went to pick up drinks. Get to stickin’, lover boy.”

With hesitation, I bent down, focused on the ball, but then missed.

“Travis! That was an easy shot! You’re killin’ me!” Shepley complained.

I still couldn’t see the girls. Knowing about the two sexual assault incidents the year before, it made me nervous to let Abby and America walk around alone. Drugging an unsuspecting
girl’s drink was not unheard of, even in our small college town.

I set my pool stick on the table and made my way across the wooden dance floor.

Shepley’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To find the girls. You remember what happened last year to that Heather chick.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

When I finally found Abby and America, I saw two guys buying them drinks. Both short, one was thicker around the middle, with a week’s worth of scruff on his sweaty face. Jealousy should
have been the last thing I would feel when looking at him, but the fact that he was clearly hitting on my girlfriend made this less about his looks and more about my ego—even if he
didn’t know she was with me, he should have assumed by looking at her that she wouldn’t be alone. My jealousy mixed with annoyance. I’d told Abby a dozen times not to do something
so potentially dangerous as accept a drink from a stranger; anger quickly took over.

The one guy yelling to Abby over the music leaned in. “You wanna dance?”

Abby shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m here with my—”

“Boyfriend,” I said, cutting her off. I glared down at the men. It was almost laughable trying to intimidate two men wearing togas, but I still unleashed my full-on
I Will Kill
You
expression. I nodded across the room. “Run along, now.”

The men cowered, and then looked to America and Abby before retreating behind the curtain of the crowd.

Shepley kissed America. “I can’t take you anywhere!” She giggled, and Abby smiled at me.