Beautiful Disaster (6 page)

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.

“If he's stalking you, then why do you let him buy you drinks?” I laughed.

“It's simple, Abby. I'm broke.”

I laughed again, and Finch jabbed his elbow into my side when he caught sight of Travis walking toward us.

“Hey, Travis,” Finch lilted, winking at me.

“Finch,” Travis said with a nod. He dangled his keys. “I'm headed home, Pidge. You need a ride?”

“I was just going in,” I said, grinning up at him through my sunglasses.

“You're not staying with me tonight?” he asked. His face was a combination of surprise and disappointment.

“No, I am. I just had to grab a few things that I forgot.”

“Like what?”

“Well, my razor for one. What do you care?”

“It's about time you shaved your legs. They've been tearing the hell outta mine,” he said with an impish grin.

Finch's eyes bulged as he gave me a quick once-over, and I made a face at Travis. “That's how rumors
get started!” I looked at Finch and shook my head. “I'm sleeping in his bed…just sleeping.”

“Right,” Finch said with a smug smile.

I smacked Finch's arm before yanking the door open and climbing the stairs. By the time I reached the second floor, Travis was beside me.

“Oh, don't be mad. I was just kidding.”

“Everyone already assumes we're having sex. You're making it worse.”

“Who cares what they think?”

“I do, Travis! I do!” I pushed open my door, shoved random items in a small tote, and then stormed out with Travis trailing behind. He chuckled as he took the bag from my hand, and I glared at him. “It's not funny. Do you want the whole school to think I'm one of your sluts?”

Travis frowned. “No one thinks that. And if they do, they better hope I don't hear about it.”

He held the door open for me, and after walking through, I stopped abruptly in front of him.

‘Whoa!” he said, slamming into me.

I flipped around. “Oh my God! People probably think we're together and you're shamelessly continuing your … lifestyle. I must look pathetic!” I said, coming to the realization as I spoke. “I don't think I should stay with you anymore. We should just stay away from each other in general for a while.”

I took my bag from him and he snatched it back.

“No one thinks we're together, Pidge. You don't have to quit talking to me to prove a point.”

We engaged in a tug of war with the tote, and when he refused to let go, I growled loudly in frustration. “Have you ever had a girl—that's a
friend—stay with you? Have you ever given girls rides to and from school? Have you eaten lunch with them every day? No one knows what to think about us, even when we tell them!”

He walked to the parking lot, holding my effects hostage. “I'll fix this, okay? I don't want anyone thinking less of you because of me,” he said with a troubled expression. His eyes brightened and he smiled. “Let me make it up to you. Why don't we go to the Dutch tonight?”

“That's a biker bar,” I sneered, watching him fasten my tote to his bike.

“Okay, then let's go to the club. I'll take you to dinner and then we can go to the Red Door. My treat.”

“How will going out to dinner and then to a club fix the problem? When people see us out together it will make it worse.”

He straddled his bike. “Think about it. Me, drunk, in a room full of scantily clad women? It won't take long for people to figure out we're not a couple.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Take a guy home from the bar to drive the point home?”

“I didn't say that. No need to get carried away,” he said with a frown.

I rolled my eyes and climbed onto the seat, wrapping my arms around his middle. “Some random girl is going to follow us home from the bar? That's how you're going to make it up to me?”

“You're not jealous, are you, Pigeon?”

“Jealous of what? The STD-infested imbecile you're going to piss off in the morning?”

Travis laughed, and then started his Harley. He flew toward his apartment at twice the speed limit, and I closed my eyes to block out the trees and cars we left behind.

After climbing off his bike, I smacked his shoulder. “Did you forget I was with you? Are you trying to get me killed?”

“It's hard to forget you're behind me when your thighs are squeezing the life out of me.” A smirk came with his next thought. “I couldn't think of a better way to die, actually.”

“There is something very wrong with you.”

We had barely made it inside when America shuffled out of Shepley's bedroom. “We were thinking about going out tonight. You guys in?”

I looked at Travis and grinned. “We're going to swing by the sushi place before we go to Red.”

America's smile spanned from one side of her face to the other. “Shep!” she cried, scampering into the bathroom. “We're going out tonight!”

I was the last one in the shower, so Shepley, America, and Travis were impatiently standing by the door when I stepped out of the bathroom in a black dress and hot pink heels.

America whistled. “Hot damn, Mama!”

I smiled in appreciation, and Travis held out his hand. “Nice legs.”

“Did I mention that it's a magic razor?”

“I don't think it's the razor,” he smiled, pulling me out the door.

We were far too loud and obnoxious in the sushi bar, and had already had a night's worth to drink before we stepped foot in the Red Door. Shepley
pulled into the parking lot, taking time to find a space.

“Sometime tonight, Shep,” America muttered.

“Hey. I have to find a wide space. I don't want some drunken idiot dinging the paint.”

Once we parked, Travis leaned the seat forward and helped me out. “I meant to ask you about your IDs. They're flawless. You didn't get them around here.”

“Yeah, we've had them for a while. It was necessary … in Wichita,” I said.

“Necessary?” Travis asked.

“It's a good thing you have connections,” America said. She hiccupped and covered her mouth, giggling.

“Dear God, woman,” Shepley said, holding America's arm as she awkwardly stepped along the gravel. “I think you're already done for the night.”

Travis made a face. “What are you talking about, Mare? What connections?”

“Abby has some old friends that—”

“They're fake IDs, Trav,” I interrupted. “You have to know the right people if you want them done right, right?”

America purposefully looked away from Travis, and I waited.

“Right,” he said, extending his hand for mine.

I grabbed three of his fingers and smiled, knowing by his expression that he wasn't satisfied with my answer.

“I need another drink!” I said as a second attempt to change the subject.

“Shots!” America yelled.

Shepley rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. That's what you need, another shot.”

Once inside, America immediately pulled me onto the dance floor. Her blond hair was everywhere, and I laughed at the duck face she made when she moved to music. When the song was over, we joined the boys at the bar. An excessively voluptuous platinum blonde was already at Travis's side, and America's face screwed into revulsion.

“It's going to be like this all night, Mare. Just ignore them,” Shepley said, nodding to a small group of girls standing a few feet away. They eyed the blonde, waiting for their turn.

“It looks like Vegas threw up on a flock of vultures,” America sneered.

Travis lit a cigarette as he ordered two more beers, and the blonde bit her puffy, glossed lip and smiled. The bartender popped the tops open and slid the bottles to Travis. The blonde picked up one of the beers, but Travis pulled it from her hand.

“Uh…not yours,” he said to her, handing it to me.

My initial thought was to toss the bottle in the trash, but the woman looked so offended, I smiled and took a drink. She walked off in a huff, and I chuckled that Travis didn't seem to notice.

“Like I would buy a beer for some chick at a bar,” he said, shaking his head. I held up my beer, and he pulled up one side of his mouth into a half smile. “You're different.”

I clinked my bottle against his. “To being the only girl a guy with no standards doesn't want to sleep with.” I said, taking a swig.

“Are you serious?” he asked, pulling the bottle from my mouth. When I didn't recant, he leaned toward me. “First of all … I have standards. I've never been with an ugly woman. Ever. Second of all, I wanted to sleep with you. I thought about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I haven't because I don't see you that way anymore. It's not that I'm not attracted to you, I just think you're better than that.”

I couldn't hold back the smug smile that crept across my face. “You think I'm too good for you.”

He sneered at my second insult. “I can't think of a single guy I know that's good enough for you.”

The smugness melted away, replaced with a touched, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Trav,” I said, setting my empty bottle on the bar.

Travis pulled on my hand. “C'mon,” he said, tugging me through the crowd to the dance floor.

“I've had a lot to drink! I'm going to fall!”

Travis smiled and pulled me to him, grabbing my hips. “Shut up and dance.”

America and Shepley appeared beside us. Shepley moved like he'd been watching too many Usher videos. Travis had me near panic with the way he pressed against me. If he used any of those moves on the couch, I could see why so many girls chanced humiliation in the morning.

He cinched his hands around my hips, and I noticed that his expression was different, almost serious. I ran my hands over his flawless chest and six-pack as they stretched and tensed under his tight shirt to the music. I turned my back to him, smiling when he wrapped his arms around my waist. Coupled
with the alcohol in my system, when he pulled my body against his, things came to mind that were anything but friendly.

The next song bled into the one we were dancing to, and Travis showed no signs of wanting to return to the bar. The sweat beaded on the back of my neck, and the multicolored strobe lights made me feel a bit dizzy. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder. He grabbed my hands and pulled them up and around his neck. His hands ran down my arms and down my ribs, finally returning to my hips. When I felt his lips and then his tongue against my neck, I pulled away from him.

He chuckled, looking a bit surprised. “What, Pidge?”

My temper flared, making the sharp words I wanted to say stick in my throat. I retreated to the bar and ordered another Corona. Travis took the stool beside me, holding up his finger to order one for himself. As soon as the bartender set the bottle in front of me, I tipped it up and drank half the contents before slamming it to the bar.

“You think that is going to change anyone's mind about us?” I said, pulling my hair to the side, covering the spot he kissed.

He laughed once. “I don't give a damn what they think about us.”

I shot him a dirty look and then turned to face forward.

“Pigeon,” he said, touching my arm.

I pulled away from him. “Don't. I could never get drunk enough to let you get me on that couch.”

His face twisted in anger, but before he could say anything, a dark-haired stunner with pouty lips, enormous blue eyes, and far too much cleavage approached him.

“Well. If it isn't Travis Maddox,” she said, bouncing in all the right places.

He took a drink, and then his eyes locked on mine. “Hey, Megan.”

“Introduce me to your girlfriend,” she smiled. I rolled my eyes.

Travis tipped his head back to finish his beer, and then slid his empty bottle down the bar. Everyone waiting to order watched it until it fell into the trash can at the end. “She's not my girlfriend.”

He grabbed Megan's hand, and she happily traipsed behind him to the dance floor. He all but mauled her for one song, and then another, and another. They were causing a scene with the way she let him grope her, and when he bent her over I turned my back to them.

“You look pissed,” a man said as he sat next to me. “Is that your boyfriend out there?”

“No, he's just a friend,” I grumbled.

“Well, that's good. That could have been pretty awkward for you if he was.” He faced the dance floor, shaking his head at the spectacle.

“Tell me about it,” I said, drinking the last of my beer. I barely tasted the last two I had put away, and my teeth were numb.

“Would you like another one?” he asked. I looked over at him and he smiled. “I'm Ethan.”

“Abby,” I said, taking his outstretched hand.

He held up two fingers to the bartender, and I smiled. “Thanks.”

“So you live here?” he asked.

“In Morgan Hall at Eastern.”

“I have an apartment in Hinley.”

“You go to State?” I asked. “What is that … like an hour away? What are you doing over here?”

“I graduated last May. My little sister goes to Eastern. I'm staying with her this week while I apply for jobs.”

“Uh-oh … living in the real world, huh?”

Ethan laughed. “And it's everything they say it is.”

I pulled the gloss out of my pocket and smeared it across my lips, using the mirror lining the wall behind the bar.