Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (6 page)

I scanned the line of husky, no-nonsense servers who stood behind the buffet. Once the stern-looking woman behind the register came into view, I knew I’d found my target.

“Hey, Miss . . . uh . . . Miss . . .”

The cafeteria lady sized me up once before deciding I was going to cause her trouble, as most women did right before I made their thighs tingle.

“Armstrong,” she said in a gruff voice.

I tried to subdue my disgust as the thought of her thighs appeared in the dark corners of my mind.

I flashed my most charming smile. “That’s lovely. I was wondering, because you seem like the boss here . . . No OJ today?”

“There’s some in the back. I’ve been too busy to bring any more to the front.”

I nodded. “You’re always running your ass off. They should give you a raise. No one else works as hard as you do. We all notice.”

She lifted her chin, minimizing the folds on her neck. “Thank you. It’s about time someone did. Did you need orange juice?”

“Just a can . . . if you don’t mind, of course.”

She winked. “Not at all. I’ll be right back.”

I brought the can to the table and sat it on Abby’s tray.

“You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab one.” She peeled off her jacket and laid it across her lap, exposing her shoulders. They were still tan from the summer, and a
little shiny, begging me to touch them.

A dozen dirty things flashed in my mind.

“Well, now you don’t have to,” I said. I offered one of my best smiles, but this time it was genuine. It was another one of those Happy Abby moments I sort of wished for these
days.

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

I craned my neck down the table to see Brazil with a smartass grin. He didn’t mean anything by it, but he ruined my moment, and it pissed me off. I probably did look a little bit like a
pussy, bringing her a drink.

Abby leaned forward. “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,” she said, frowning.

I stared for a moment, watching her anger subside a tiny bit as she turned her attention to me. That was definitely a first. “Now I’ve seen it all. I was just defended by a
girl.” I offered her a small smile and then stood, glaring at Brazil one last time before leaving to dump my tray. I wasn’t that hungry, anyway.

The heavy metal doors easily gave way when I shoved through them. I pulled my cigarettes from my pocket and lit one up, trying to forget what had just happened.

I’d just made an ass of myself over a girl, and it was particularly satisfying to my frat brothers because I had been the one giving them a hard time for two years for even mentioning they
might want to do more than just bag a girl. It was my turn now, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it—because I couldn’t. Even worse? I didn’t want to.

When the other smokers around me laughed, I did the same, even though I had no clue what they were talking about. Inside I was pissed off and humiliated, or pissed off that I was humiliated.
Whichever. The girls pawed at me and took turns trying to make conversation. I nodded and smiled to be nice, but I really just wanted to get out of there and punch something. A public tantrum would
show weakness, and I wasn’t havin’ that shit.

Abby passed, and I cut off one of the girls in midsentence to catch up with her. “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.”

I admit it: That stung a little. She didn’t even look at me when she said it, completely dismissive.

Just then a girl with a short skirt and mile-high legs passed by. Her shiny dark hair swayed against her back as she walked. That’s when it hit me: I had to give up. Bagging a random hot
chick was what I did best, and Abby wanted nothing more than to be friends with me. I planned to do the right thing and keep things platonic, but if I didn’t do something drastic, that plan
would get lost in the mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling inside of me.

It was time to finally draw a line. I didn’t deserve Abby, anyway. What was the point?

I threw my cigarette to the ground. “I’ll catch up with you later, Pidge.”

I put on my game face, but it wouldn’t take much. She had crossed my path on purpose, hoping her short skirt and hooker heels would get my attention. I got ahead of her and turned around,
shoving my hands in my pockets.

“You in a hurry?”

She smiled. I already had her. “I’m going to class.”

“Oh yeah? What class?”

She stopped, one side of her mouth pulling to the side. “Travis Maddox, right?”

“Right. My reputation precedes me?”

“It does.”

“Guilty.”

She shook her head. “I have to get to class.”

I sighed, feigning disappointment. “That’s a shame. I was just going to ask you for some help.”

“With what?” Her tone was dubious, but she was still smiling. I could have just asked her to follow me home for a quick fuck and she probably would have gone for it, but a certain
amount of charm went a long way for later.

“Getting to my apartment. I have a terrible sense of direction.”

“Is that so?” she asked, nodding, frowning, and then smiling. She was trying hard not to be flattered.

Her top two buttons were loose, leaving the bottom curve of her breasts and a few inches of her bra visible. I felt that familiar swelling in my jeans, and I switched my weight to the other
foot.

“Terrible.” I smiled, watching her gaze drift to the dimple in my cheek. I don’t know why, but the dimple always seemed to seal the deal.

She shrugged, trying to remain cool. “Lead the way. If I see you veering off course, I’ll honk.”

“I’m this way,” I said, nodding in the direction of the parking lot.

She had her tongue down my throat before we got all the way up the apartment stairs and was pulling off my jacket before I could single out the right key. We were clumsy, but it was fun. I had
plenty of practice opening the lock on the apartment door with my lips on someone else’s. She shoved me into the living room the second the bolt unlatched, and I grabbed her hips and pushed
her against the door to close it. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I lifted her up, pressing my pelvis against hers.

She kissed me like she’d been starving and she knew there was food in my mouth. I don’t know, I kinda dug it. She bit my bottom lip, and I took a step back, losing my footing and
crashing into the end table beside the recliner. Various items knocked to the floor.

“Oops,” she said, giggling.

I smiled and watched as she walked over to the couch and leaned forward over the back so her ass cheeks became visible along with the slightest trace of a thin strip of white lace.

I unbuckled my belt and took a step. She was going to make this easy. She arched her neck and whipped her long dark hair against her back. She was hot as hell, I’d give her that. My zipper
could barely contain what was underneath.

She turned to look at me and I leaned over, planting my lips on hers.

“Maybe I should tell you my name?” she breathed.

“Why?” I panted. “I kinda like this.”

She smiled, hooked her thumbs onto each side of her panties and then pulled them down until they fell down to her ankles. Her eyes connected with mine, refreshingly wicked.

Abby’s disapproving eyes flashed in my mind.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, excited and impatient.

“Absolutely nothing,” I said, shaking my head. I tried to concentrate on her bare backside against my thighs. Having to concentrate to stay hard was definitely something new and
different, and it was all Abby’s fault.

She turned around and yanked my shirt over my head, and then finished unzipping my jeans. Damn. I was either working at a turtle’s pace, or this woman was the female version of me. I
kicked off my boots and then stepped out of the denim, kicking it all to the side.

One of her legs pulled up, and her knee hooked around my hip. “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she whispered against my ear. “Since I saw you at freshman orientation
last year.”

I ran my hand up her thigh, trying to think if I’d talked to her before. By the time my fingers reached the end of the line, they were drenched. She wasn’t kidding. A year’s
worth of mental foreplay made my job a lot easier.

She moaned the second my fingertips touched her tender skin. She was so wet my fingers didn’t get much traction, and my balls were starting to hurt. I had only bagged two women in as many
weeks. This chick, and Janet’s friend Lucy. Oh wait. Megan made three. The morning after I met Abby. Abby. Guilt swept over me, and it had a rather negative effect on my hard on.

“Don’t move,” I said, running in only boxers to my bedroom. I fished out a square package from my nightstand, and then jogged back to where the brunette stunner was standing,
exactly the way I’d left her. She snatched the package out of my hand, and then got on her knees. After some creativity and rather surprising tricks with her tongue, I had the green light to
put her on the couch.

So I did. Facedown with a reach around, and she loved every minute of it.

T
HE SEXAHOLIC WAS IN THE BATHROOM, GETTING
dressed and primping. She didn’t say much after we finished, and I was
thinking I was going to have to get her number and put her on the very short list of girls—like Megan—that didn’t require a relationship to have sex, and were also worth a
repeat.

Shepley’s phone chirped. It was a kiss noise, so it must have been America. She changed her text tone on his phone, and Shepley was more than happy to comply. They were good together, but
they also made me wanna puke.

I was sitting on the couch clicking through channels, waiting for the girl to come out so I could send her home, when I noticed that Shepley was buzzing around the apartment.

My eyebrows pushed together. “What are you doing?”

“You might want to pick up your shit. Mare’s coming over with Abby.”

That got my attention. “Abby?”

“Yeah. The boiler went out again at Morgan.”

“So?”

“So they’re going to be staying here for a few days.”

I sat up. “They? As in Abby’s going to stay here? In our apartment?”

“Yes, buttmunch. Get your mind out of Jenna Jameson’s ass and listen to what I’m saying. They will be here in ten minutes. With luggage.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

Shepley stopped in his tracks and looked at me from under his brow. “Get your ass up and help me, and take your trash out,” he said, pointing to the bathroom.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, hopping to my feet.

Shepley nodded his head, his eyes wide. “Yeah.”

It finally hit. If it pissed America off that I had a straggler still here when she arrived with Abby, it would put Shepley in a bad spot. If Abby didn’t want to stay here because of it,
it would become his problem—and mine.

My eyes focused on the bathroom door. The faucet had been running since she’d gone in there. I didn’t know if she was taking a shit or a shower. No way was I going to get her out of
the apartment before the girls came. It would look worse if I was caught trying to sweep her out, so I decided to change the sheets on my bed and pick up a little bit, instead.

“Where is Abby going to sleep?” I asked, looking at the couch. I wasn’t going to let her sprawl out on fourteen months of body fluids.

“I don’t know. The recliner?”

“She’s not sleeping on the fucking recliner, assclown.” I scratched my head. “I guess she’ll sleep in my bed.”

Shepley howled, his laughter spanning at least two blocks. He bent over and grabbed his knees, his face turning red.

“What?”

He stood up and pointed, shaking his finger and his head at me. He was too amused to talk, so he just walked away, trying to continue cleaning while his body shuddered.

Eleven minutes later, Shepley was jogging across the front room to the door. He made his way down the stairs, and then nothing. The faucet in the bathroom finally shut off, and it became very
quiet.

After a few minutes more, I heard the door bang open, and Shepley complaining between grunts.

“Christ, baby! Your suitcase is twenty pounds more than Abby’s!”

I walked into the hall, seeing my latest conquest emerge from the bathroom. She froze in the hallway, took one look at Abby and America, and then finished buttoning her blouse. She definitely
wasn’t freshening up in there. She still had makeup smeared all over her face.

For a minute, I was completely distracted from the awkwardness by the letters
W, T,
and
F
. I guess she wasn’t as uncomplicated as previously thought, making America and
Abby’s unannounced visit even more welcome. Even if I was still in my boxers.

“Hi,” she said to the girls. She looked down at their luggage, her surprise turning to total confusion.

America glared at Shepley.

He held up his hands. “She’s with Travis!”

That was my cue. I turned the corner and yawned, patting my guest’s ass. “My company’s here. You’d better go.”

She seemed to relax a bit and smiled. She wrapped her arms around me, and then kissed my neck. Her lips felt soft and warm not an hour ago. In front of Abby, they were like two sticky buns lined
with barbed wire.

“I’ll leave my number on the counter.”

“Eh . . . don’t worry about it,” I said, purposefully nonchalant.

“What?” she asked, leaning back. The rejection in her eyes shone bright, searching mine for something other than what I truly meant. Glad this was coming out now. I might have called
her again and made things very messy. Mistaking her for a possible frequent flyer was a bit startling. I was usually a better judge than that.

“
Every
time!” America said. She looked at the woman. “
How
are you surprised by this? He’s Travis Fucking Maddox! He is
famous
for this very
thing, and
every
time they’re surprised!” she said, turning to Shepley. He put his arm around her, gesturing for her to calm down.