Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (3 page)

A French fry came hurdling toward my face.

“Get your lips outta my girl’s ear, Trav!” Shepley said.

I backed away, holding my hands up to highlight the most innocent expression on my face that I could manage. “Networking! I’m networking!” I walked backward a few steps to the
door, noticing a small group of girls. I opened the door, and they swarmed through like a herd of water buffalo before I could let myself out.

It had been a long time since I’d had a challenge. The weird thing was, I wasn’t out to fuck her. It bothered me that she might think I was a piece of shit, but it bothered me more
that I cared. Either way, for the first time in a long time, someone was unpredictable. Pigeon was the total opposite of the girls I’d met here, and I had to know why.

CHANEY
’
S CLASS WAS FULL. I TOOK THE STEPS TO
my seat two at a time, and then waded through the bare legs crowding my
desk.

I nodded. “Ladies.”

They hummed and sighed in harmony.

Vultures. Half of them I’d bagged my freshman year, the other half had been on my couch well before fall break. Except the girl on the end. Sophia flashed a crooked smile. It looked like
her face had caught fire and someone had tried to put it out with a fork. She had been with a few of my frat brothers. Knowing their track records and her lack of concern for safety, it was best to
consider her an unnecessary risk, even if I was habitually careful.

She leaned forward on her elbows to make better eye contact. I felt the urge to shudder with disgust, but I resisted.
No. Not even close to being worth it.

The brunette in front of me turned around and batted her lashes. “Hey, Travis. I hear there’s a date party coming up at Sig Tau.”

“No,” I said without pause.

Her bottom lip formed a pout. “But . . . when you told me about it, I thought you might want to go.”

I laughed once. “I was bitching about it. Not the same.”

The blonde next to me leaned forward. “Everyone knows Travis Maddox doesn’t go to date parties. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Chrissy.”

“Oh yeah? Well, no one asked you,” Chrissy said with a frown.

As the women argued back and forth, I noticed Abby rush in. She practically threw herself into a front-row desk just before the bell rang.

Before I took a second to ask myself why, I grabbed my paper and popped my pen in my mouth, and then jogged down the steps, sliding into the desk next to her.

The look on Abby’s face surpassed amusing, and for a reason I couldn’t explain, it caused adrenaline to rush through my body—the kind that I used to experience before a
fight.

“Good. You can take notes for me.”

She was utterly disgusted, and that only pleased me more. Most girls bored me outta my gourd, but this girl was intriguing. Entertaining, even. I didn’t faze her, at least not in a
positive way. My very presence seemed to make her want to puke, and I found that strangely endearing.

The urge came over me to find out if it was really hate she felt for me, or if she was just a hard-ass. I leaned in close. “I’m sorry . . . did I offend you in some way?”

Her eyes softened before she shook her head. She didn’t hate me. She just
wanted
to hate me. I was way ahead of her. If she wanted to play, I could play.

“Then what is your problem?”

She seemed embarrassed to say what came next. “I’m not sleeping with you. You should give up, now.”

Oh yeah. This was going to be fun. “I haven’t asked you to sleep with me . . . have I?” I let my eyes drift to the ceiling, as if I had to think about it. “Why
don’t you come over with America tonight?”

Abby’s lip turned up, as if she’d smelled something rotten.

“I won’t even flirt with you, I swear.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I tried not to smile too much and give myself away. She wasn’t going to roll over like the vultures above. I glanced behind me, and they were all glaring at the back of Abby’s head.
They knew it as well as I did. Abby was different, and I was going to have to work for this one. For once.

Three doodles of potential tattoos, and two dozen 3-D boxes later, class dismissed. I slid through the halls before anyone could stop me. I made good time, but Abby had somehow ended up outside,
a good twenty yards ahead of me.

I’ll be damned. She was trying to avoid me. I quickened my pace until I was next to her. “Have you thought about it?”

“Travis!” A girl said, playing with her hair. Abby kept going, leaving me stuck listening to this girl’s irritating babble.

“Sorry, uh . . .”

“Heather.”

“Sorry, Heather . . . I’m . . . I’ve gotta go.”

She wrapped her arms around me. I patted her backside, shrugged out of her grasp, and kept walking, wondering who she was.

Before I could figure out who Heather was, Abby’s long, tan legs came into view. I popped a Marlboro into my mouth and jogged to her side. “Where was I? Oh yeah . . . you were
thinking.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Have you thought about coming over?”

“If I say yes, will you quit following me?”

I pretended to mull it over, and then nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll come over.”

Bullshit. She wasn’t that easy. “When?”

“Tonight. I’ll come over tonight.”

I stopped midstep. She was up to something. I hadn’t anticipated her going on the offensive. “Sweet,” I said, playing off my surprise. “See you then, Pidge.”

She walked away without looking back, not the least bit affected by the conversation. She disappeared behind other students making their own way to class.

Shepley’s white ball cap came into view. He was in no hurry to get to our computer class. My eyebrows pressed together. I hated that class. Who doesn’t know how to work a fucking
computer anymore?

I joined Shepley and America as they merged into the flow of students on the main walkway. She giggled and watched him yap at me with stars in her eyes. America was no vulture. She was hot,
yeah, but she could have a conversation without saying
like
after every word, and she was pretty funny at times. What I liked most about her is she wouldn’t come to the apartment for
several weeks after their first date, and even after they watched a movie all snuggled up at the apartment, she went back to her dorm room.

I had a feeling the probationary period before Shepley could bag her was about to end, though.

“Hey, Mare,” I said, nodding.

“How’s it going, Trav?” she asked. She acknowledged me with a friendly smile, but then her eyes were right back on Shepley.

He was one of the lucky ones. Girls like that didn’t come along very often.

“This is me,” America said, gesturing to her dorm around the corner. She wrapped her arms around Shepley’s neck and kissed him. He gripped her shirt on each side and pulled her
close before letting her go.

America waved one last time at both of us, and then joined her friend Finch at the front entrance.

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” I asked, punching Shepley in the arm.

He shoved me. “None of your business, dick.”

“Does she have a sister?”

“She’s an only child. Leave her friends alone, too, Trav. I mean it.”

Shepley’s last words were unnecessary. His eyes were a billboard for his emotions and thoughts most of the time, and he was clearly serious—maybe even a little desperate. He
wasn’t just falling for her. He was in love.

“You mean Abby.”

He frowned. “I mean any of her friends. Even Finch. Just stay away.”

“Cousin!” I said, hooking my elbow around his neck. “Are you in love? You’re making me all misty-eyed!”

“Shut up,” Shepley grumbled. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from her friends.”

I grinned. “I promise nothing.”

“W
HAT ARE YOU DOING?
”
SHEPLEY ASKED. HE STOOD IN
the middle of the room, a pair of
sneakers in one hand, a dirty pair of underwear in the other.

“Uh, cleaning?” I asked, shoving shot glasses into the dishwasher.

“I see that. But . . . why?”

I smiled, my back turned to Shepley. He was going to kick my ass. “I’m expecting company.”

“So?”

“The pigeon.”

“Huh?”

“Abby, Shep. I invited Abby.”

“Dude, no. No! Don’t fuck this up for me, man. Please don’t.”

I turned, crossing my arms across my chest. “I tried, Shep. I did. But, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “There’s something about her. I couldn’t help
myself.”

Shepley’s jaw worked under his skin, and then he stomped into his room, slamming the door behind him.

I finished loading the dishwasher, and then circled the couch to make sure I hadn’t missed any visible empty condom wrappers. That was never fun to explain.

The fact that I had bagged a good portion of beautiful coeds at this school was no secret, but I didn’t see a reason to remind them when they came to my apartment. It was all about
presentation.

Pigeon, though. It would take far more than false advertising to bag her on my couch. At this point, the strategy was to take her one step at a time. If I focused on the end result, the process
could easily be fucked up. She noticed things. She was farther from naive than I was; light-years away. This operation was nothing less than precarious.

I was in my bedroom sorting dirty laundry when I heard the front door open. Shepley usually listened for America’s car to pull in so he could greet her at the door.

Pussy.

Murmuring, and then the closing of Shepley’s door was my signal. I walked into the front room, and there she sat: glasses, her hair all piled on top of her head, and what might have been
pajamas. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been molding in the bottom of her laundry hamper.

It was so hard not to bust into laughter. Never once had a female come to my apartment dressed like that. My front door had seen jean skirts, dresses, even a see-through tube dress over a string
bikini. A handful of times, spackled-on makeup and glitter lotion. Never pajamas.

Her appearance immediately explained why she’d so easily agreed to come over. She was going to try to nauseate me into leaving her alone. If she didn’t look absolutely sexy like
that, it might have worked, but her skin was impeccable, and the lack of makeup and the frames of her glasses just made her eye color stand out even more.

“It’s about time you showed up,” I said, falling onto the couch.

At first she seemed proud of her idea, but as we talked and I remained impervious, it was clear that she knew her plan had failed. The less she smiled, the more I had to stop myself from
grinning from ear to ear. She was so much fun. I just couldn’t get over it.

Shepley and America joined us ten minutes later. Abby was flustered, and I was damn near light-headed. Our conversation had gone from her doubting that I could write a simple paper to her
questioning my penchant for fighting. I kind of liked talking to her about normal stuff. It was preferable to the awkward task of asking her to leave once I bagged her. She didn’t understand
me, and I kind of wanted her to, even though I seemed to piss her off.

“What are you, the Karate Kid? Where did you learn to fight?”

Shepley and America seemed to be embarrassed for Abby. I don’t know why; I sure as hell didn’t mind. Just because I didn’t talk about my childhood much didn’t mean I was
ashamed.

“I had a dad with a drinking problem and a bad temper, and four older brothers that carried the asshole gene.”

“Oh,” she said simply. Her cheeks turned red, and at that moment, I felt a twinge in my chest. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it bugged me. “Don’t be embarrassed,
Pidge. Dad quit drinking. The brothers grew up.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Her body language didn’t match her words. I struggled to think of something to change the subject, and then her sexy, frumpy look came to mind. Her
embarrassment was immediately replaced by irritation, something I was far more comfortable with.

America suggested watching TV. The last thing I wanted to do was to be in a room with Abby but unable to talk to her. I stood. “You hungry, Pidge?”

“I already ate.”

America’s eyebrows pulled in. “No, you haven’t. Oh . . . er . . . that’s right. I forgot. You grabbed a . . . pizza? Before we left.”

Abby was embarrassed again, but her anger quickly covered it. Learning her emotional pattern didn’t take long.

I opened the door, trying to keep my voice casual. I’d never been so eager to get a girl alone—especially to
not
have sex with her. “C’mon. You’ve gotta be
hungry.”

Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you want. We can hit a pizza place.” I inwardly cringed. That might have been too eager.

She looked down at her sweatpants. “I’m not really dressed.”

She had no idea how beautiful she was. That made her even more appealing. “You look fine. Let’s go, I’m starvin’.”

Once she was on the back of my Harley, I could finally think straight again. My thoughts were usually more relaxed on my bike. Abby’s legs had my hips in a vise grip, but that was oddly
relaxing, too. Almost a relief.

This weird sensation I felt around her was disorienting. I didn’t like it, but then again it reminded me that she was around, so it was as comforting as it was unsettling. I decided to get
my shit together. Abby might be a pigeon, but she was just a fucking girl. No need to get my boxers in a bunch.

Besides, there was something under the good girl facade. She hated me on sight because she’d been burned by someone like me before. No way was she a slut, though. Not even a reformed slut.
I could spot them a mile away. My game face slowly melted away. I’d finally found a girl that was interesting enough to get to know, and a version of me had already hurt her.

Even though we’d just met, the thought of some jackhole hurting Pidge infuriated me. Abby associating me with someone that would hurt her was even worse. I gunned the throttle as I pulled
into the Pizza Shack. That ride wasn’t long enough to sort out the clusterfuck in my head.