Beautiful Disaster

“What do you wanna know?”

“The normal stuff. Where you’re from, what you want to be when you grow up…things like that.”

“I’m from here, born and raised, and I’m a criminal justice major.”

With a sigh, he unrolled his silverware and straightened them beside his plate. He looked over his shoulder, and I noticed his jaw tensing a bit at those around us. Two tables seating the Eastern soccer team erupted in laughter, and Travis seemed to be annoyed at what they were laughing about.

“You’re joking,” I said in disbelief.

“No, I’m a local,” he said, distracted.

“I meant about your major. You don’t look like the criminal justice type.”

His eyebrows pulled together, suddenly focused on our conversation. “Why?”

I scanned the tattoos covering his arm. “I’ll just say that you seem more criminal and less justice.”

“I don’t get in any trouble…for the most part. Dad was pretty strict.”

“Where was your mom?”

“She died when I was a kid,” he said as a matter-of-fact.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. His answer caught me off-guard.

He dismissed my sympathy. “I don’t remember her. My brothers do, but I was just three when she died.”

“Four brothers, huh? How did you keep them straight?” I teased.

“I kept them straight by who hit the hardest, which also happened to be oldest to youngest. Thomas, the twins…Taylor and Tyler, and then Trenton. You never, ever got caught alone in a room with Taylor and Ty. I learned half of what I do in The Circle from them. Trenton was the smallest, but he’s fast. He’s the only one that can land a punch on me, now.”

I shook my head, dumbfounded at the thought of five Travises running around in one household. “Do they all have tattoos?”

“Pretty much. Except Thomas. He’s an ad exec in California.”

“And your dad? Where’s he?”

“Around,” he said. His jaws were working again, increasingly irritated with the soccer team.

“What are they laughing about?” I asked, gesturing to the rowdy table. He shook his head, clearly not wanting to share. I crossed my arms and squirmed in my seat, nervous about what they were saying that caused him so much aggravation. “Tell me.”

“They’re laughing about me having to take you to dinner, first. It’s not usually…my thing.”

“First?” When the realization settled on my face, Travis winced at my expression. I spoke before I thought. “And I was afraid they were laughing about you being seen with me dressed like this, and they think I’m going to sleep with you,” I grumbled.

“Why wouldn’t I be seen with you?”

“What were we talking about?” I asked, warding off the heat rising under my cheeks.

“You. What’s your major?” he asked.

“Oh, er…general ed, for now. I’m still undecided, but I’m leaning toward Accounting.”

“You’re not a local, though. You must be a transplant.”

“Wichita. Same as America.”

“How did you end up here from Kansas?”

I picked at the label of my beer bottle. “We just had to get away.”

“From what?”

“My parents.”

“Oh. What about America? She has parent issues, too?”

“No, Mark and Pam are great. They practically raised me. She sort of tagged along; she didn’t want me to come alone.”

Travis nodded. “So, why Eastern?”

“What’s with the third degree?” I said. The questions were drifting from small talk to personal, and I was beginning to get uncomfortable.

Several chairs knocked together as the soccer team left their seats. They traded one last joke before they meandered toward the door. Their pace quickened when Travis stood up. Those in the back of the group pushed those in front to escape before Travis made his way across the room. He sat down, forcing the frustration and anger away.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You were going to say why you chose Eastern,” he prompted.

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, shrugging. “I guess it just felt right.”

He smiled as he opened his menu. “I know what you mean.”

CHAPTER TWO pig

Familiar faces filled the seats of our favorite lunch table. America sat on one side of me, Finch on the other, and the rest of the spaces were picked off by Shepley and his Sigma Tau brothers. It was hard to hear with the low roar inside the cafeteria, and the air conditioner seemed to be on the fritz again. The air was thick with the smells of fried foods and sweaty skin, but somehow everyone seemed to be more energetic than usual.

“Hey Brazil,” Shepley said, greeting the man sitting in front of me. His olive skin and chocolate eyes offset the white Eastern Football hat pulled low on his forehead.

“Missed you after the game Saturday, Shep. I drank a beer or six for ya,” he said with a broad, white grin.

“I appreciate it. I took Mare out to dinner,” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of America’s long, blonde hair.

“You’re sittin’ in my chair, Brazil.”

Brazil turned to see Travis standing behind him, and then looked to me, surprised. “Oh, is she one of your girls, Trav?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head.

Brazil looked to Travis, who stared at him expectantly. Brazil shrugged and then took his tray to the end of the table.

Travis smiled at me as he settled into the seat. “What’s up, Pidge?”

“What is that?” I asked, unable to look away from his tray. The mystery food on his plate looked like a wax display.

Travis laughed and took a drink from his water glass. “The cafeteria ladies scare me. I’m not about to critique their cooking skills.”

I didn’t miss the appraising eyes of those sitting at the table. Travis’ behavior piqued their curiosity, and I subdued a smile at being the only girl they had seen him insist on sitting by.

“Ugh…that Bio test is after lunch,” America groaned.

“Did you study?” I asked.

“God, no. I spent the night reassuring my boyfriend that you weren’t going to sleep with Travis.”

The football players seated at the end of our table stopped their obnoxious laughter to listen more closely, making the other students take notice. I glared at America, but she was unconcerned with any blame, nudging Shepley with her shoulder.

“Jesus, Shep. You’ve got it that bad, huh?” Travis asked, throwing a packet of ketchup at his cousin. Shepley didn’t answer, but I smiled appreciatively at Travis for the diversion.

America rubbed his back. “He’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take him awhile to believe Abby is resistant to your charms.”

“I haven’t tried to charm her,” Travis sniffed, seeming offended. “She’s my friend.”