Beautiful Disaster

forgiving attitude to be friends with Travis. He’s his own universe.”

I shook my head. “That’s the Travis everyone else sees…not the Travis I know.”

Shepley leaned forward. “There’s no difference. You just have to ride the wave.”

After class, I rode with America to the apartment to find Travis’ motorcycle gone. I went into his room and curled into a ball on his bed, resting my head on my arm. Travis had been fine that morning. As much time as we had spent together, I couldn’t believe I didn’t see that something had been bothering him. Not only that, it disturbed me that America seemed to know what was going on and I didn’t.

My breathing evened out and my eyes grew heavy; it wasn’t long before I fell asleep. When my eyes opened again, the night sky had darkened the window. Muffled voices filtered down the hall from the living room, including Travis’ deep tone. I crept down the hall, and then froze when I heard my name.

“Abby gets it, Trav. Don’t beat yourself up,” Shepley said.

“You’re already going to the date party. What’s the harm in asking her out?” America asked.

I stiffened, waiting for his response. “I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”

“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.

“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”

“You’re closer to her type than you know,” America said.

I backed up as quietly as I could, and when the wooden boards creaked beneath my bare feet, I reached over to pull Travis’ bedroom door shut, and then walked down the hall.

“Hey, Abby,” America smiled. “How was your nap?”

“I was out for five hours. That’s closer to a coma than a nap.”

Travis stared at me for a moment, and when I smiled at him, he walked straight toward me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down the hall to his bedroom. He shut the door, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest, bracing for him to say something else to crush my ego.

His eyebrows pulled in. “I’m so sorry, Pidge. I was an asshole to you earlier.”

I relaxed a bit, seeing the remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t know you were mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. It’s a piss poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,” he said, enveloping me in his arms.

I nestled my cheek against his chest, settling in. “What were you mad about?”

“It’s not important. The only thing I’m worried about is you.”

I leaned back to look up at him. “I can handle your temper tantrums.”

His eyes scanned my face for several moments before a small smile spread across his lips. “I don’t know why you put up with me, and I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

I could smell the mixture of cigarettes and mint on his breath, and I looked at his lips, my body reacting to how close we were. Travis’ expression changed and his breathing staggered — he had noticed, too.

He leaned in infinitesimally, and then we both jumped when his cell phone rang. He sighed, pulling it from his pocket.

“Yeah. Hoffman? Jesus…all right. That’ll be an easy grand. Jefferson?” He looked at me and winked. “We’ll be there.” He hung up and took my hand. “Come with me.” He pulled me down the hall. “That was Adam,” he said to Shepley. “Brady Hoffman will be at Jefferson in ninety minutes.”

Shepley nodded and stood up, digging his cell phone from his pocket. After a few moments, he repeated what Travis had told him into his phone, hung up, dialed again, and then repeated the information once more. He dialed another number as he shut his bedroom door behind him.

“Here we go,” America said, smiling. “We better freshen up!”

The air in the apartment was tense and buoyant at the same time. Travis seemed the least affected, slipping on his boots and a white tank top as if he were leaving to run an errand.

America led me down the hall to Travis’ bedroom and frowned. “You have to change, Abby. You can’t wear that to the fight.”

“I wore a freaking cardigan last time and you didn’t say anything!” I protested.

“I didn’t think you’d go last time. Here,” she threw clothes at me, “put this on.”

“I am not wearing this!”

“Let’s go!” Shepley called from the living room.

“Hurry up!” America snapped, running into Shepley’s room.

I pulled on the deep cut, yellow halter top and tight, low-rise jeans America had thrown at me, and then slipped on a pair of heels, raking a brush through my hair as I shuffled down the hall. America came out of her room with a short, green baby doll dress and matching heels, and when we rounded the corner, Travis and Shepley were standing at the door.

Travis’ mouth fell open. “Oh, hell no. Are you trying to get me killed? You’ve gotta change, Pidge.”

“What?” I asked, looking down.

America grabbed her hips. “She looks cute, Trav, leave her alone!”

Travis took my hand and led me down the hall. “Get a t-shirt on…and some sneakers. Something comfortable.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’ll be more worried about who’s looking at your tits in that shirt instead of Hoffman,” he said, stopping at his door.

“I thought you said you didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought?”

“That’s a different scenario, Pigeon.” Travis looked down at my chest and then up at me. “You can’t wear this to the fight, so please…just…please just change,” he stuttered, shoving me into the room and shutting me in.

“Travis!” I yelled. I kicked off my heels, and shoved my feet into my Converse. Then I wiggled out of my halter top, throwing it across the room. The first cotton shirt that touched my hands I yanked over my head, and then ran down the hall, standing in the doorway.

“Better?” I huffed, pulling my hair into a pony tail.

“Yes!” Travis said, relieved. “Let’s go!”

We raced to the parking lot. I jumped on the back of Travis’ motorcycle as he ripped the engine and peeled out, flying down the road to the college. I squeezed his middle in anticipation; the rushing to get out the door had sent adrenaline surging through my veins.

Travis drove over the curb, parking his motorcycle in the shadows behind the Jefferson Liberal Arts building. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, and then grabbed my hand, smiling as we snuck to the back of the building. He stopped at an open window near the ground.

My eyes widened with realization. “You’re joking.”

Travis smiled. “This is the VIP entrance. You should see how everyone else gets in.”

I shook my head as he worked his legs through, and then disappeared. I leaned down and called into oblivion, “Travis!”

“Down here, Pidge. Just come in feet first, I’ll catch you.”

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m jumping into the dark!”

“I’ll catch you! I promise! Now get your ass in here!”

I sighed, touching my forehead with my hand. “This is insane!”

I sat down, and then scooted forward until half of my body was dangling in the dark. I turned on my stomach, and pointed my toes, feeling for the floor. I waited for my feet to touch Travis’ hand, but I lost my grip, squealing when I fell backward. A pair of hands grabbed me, and I heard Travis’ voice in the darkness.

“You fall like a girl,” he chuckled.

He lowered my feet to the ground, and then pulled me further into the blackness. After a dozen steps, I could hear the familiar yelling of numbers and names, and then the room illuminated. A lantern sat in the corner, lighting the room just enough that I could make out Travis’ face.

“What are we doing?”

“Waiting. Adam has to run through his spiel before I go in.”

I fidgeted. “Should I wait here, or should I go in? Where do I go when the fight starts? Where’s Shep and Mare?”