Beautiful Disaster

When I pulled him against me, he didn’t resist. His muscles tensed, and he held his breath as he slid inside me.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I’m yours,” I breathed. Every nerve, inside and out ached for more. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”

“Promise me,” he said, groaning with another thrust.

“I love you. I’ll love you forever.” The words were more of a sigh, but I met his eyes when I said them. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes vanish, and even in the dim light, his face brightened.

Finally satisfied, he sealed his mouth over mine.

Travis woke me with kisses. My head was heavy and fogged from the multiple drinks I’d had the night before, but the hour before I fell asleep replayed in my mind in vivid detail. Soft lips showered every inch of my hand, arm and neck, and when he reached my lips, I smiled.

“Good morning,” I said against his mouth.

He didn’t speak; his lips continued working against mine. His solid arms enveloped me, and then he buried his face in my neck.

“You’re quiet this morning,” I said, running my hands over the bare skin of his back. I let them continue down his backside, and then I hooked my leg over his hip, kissing his cheek.

He shook his head. “I just want to be like this,” he whispered.

I frowned. “Did I miss something?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. Why don’t you just go back to sleep?”

I leaned back against the pillow, pulling up his chin. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them blotchy and red.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, alarmed.

He put one of my hands in his and kissed it, pressing his forehead against my neck. “Just go back to sleep, Pigeon. Please?”

“Did something happen? Is it America?” With the last question, I sat up. Even seeing the fear in my eyes, his expression didn’t change. He simply sighed and sat up with me, looking at my hand in his.

“No…America’s fine. They got home around four this morning. They’re still in bed. It’s early, let’s just go back to sleep.”

Feeling my heart pounding against my chest, I knew there was no chance of falling back asleep. Travis put both hands on each side of my face and kissed me. His mouth moved differently, as if he were kissing me for the last time. He lowered me to the pillow, kissed me once more, and then rested his head on my chest, wrapping both arms tightly around me.

Every possible reason for Travis’ behavior flipped through my mind like television channels. I hugged him to me, afraid to ask. “Have you slept?”

“I…couldn’t. I didn’t wanna…,” his voice trailed off.

I kissed his forehead. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay? Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll figure it out when you wake up.”

His head popped up and he scanned my face. I saw both mistrust and hope in his eyes. “What do you mean? That we’ll get through it?”

My eyebrows pulled in, confused. I couldn’t imagine what had happened while I was sleeping that would cause him so much anguish. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here.”

“You’re here? As in you’re staying? With me?”

I knew that my expression must have been ridiculous, but my head was spinning, from both the alcohol and Travis’ bizarre questions. “Yes. I thought we discussed this last night?”

“We did,” he nodded, encouraged.

I searched the room with my eyes, thinking. His walls were no longer bare as they were when we had first met. They were now peppered with trinkets from places that we’d spent time together, and the white paint was interrupted by black frames holding pictures of me, us, Toto, and our group of friends. A larger frame of the two of us at my birthday party replaced the sombrero that once hung by a nail above his headboard.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You thought I was going to wake up pissed at you, didn’t you? You thought I was going to leave?”

He shrugged, making a poor attempt at the indifference that used to come so easily to him. “That is what you’re famous for.”

“Is that what you’re so upset about? You stayed up all night worrying about what would happen when I woke up?”

He shifted as if his next words would be difficult. “I didn’t mean for last night to happen like that. I was a little drunk, and I followed you around the party like some fucking stalker, and then I dragged you out of there, against your will…and then we….,” he shook his head, clearly disgusted with the memories playing in his mind.

“Had the best sex of my life?” I smiled, squeezing his hand.

Travis laughed once, the tension around his eyes slowly melting away. “So we’re okay?”

I kissed him, touching the sides of his face with tenderness. “Yes, dummy. I promised, didn’t I? I told you everything you wanted to hear, we’re back together, and you’re still not happy?”

His face compressed around his smile.

“Baby, stop. I love you,” I said, smoothing the worried lines around his eyes. “This absurd stand-off could have been over at Thanksgiving, but…,”

“Wait…what?” he interrupted, leaning back.

“I was fully prepared to give in on Thanksgiving, but you said you were done trying to make me happy, and I was too proud to tell you that I wanted you back.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I was just trying to make it easier on you! Do you know how miserable I’ve been?”

I frowned. “You looked just fine after break.”

“That was for you! I was afraid I’d lose you if I didn’t pretend to be okay with being friends. I could have been with you this whole time? What the fuck, Pigeon?”

“I….” I couldn’t argue; he was right. I had made us both suffer, and I had no excuse. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I damn near drank myself to death, I could barely get out of bed, I shattered my phone into a million pieces on New Year’s Eve to keep from calling you…and you’re sorry?”

I bit my lip and nodded, ashamed. I had no idea what he’d been through, and hearing him say the words made a sharp pain twist inside my chest. “I’m so…so sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ever do it again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He flashed his dimple and shook his head. “I fucking love you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE smoke

The weeks passed, and it was a surprise to me how quickly Spring Break was upon us. The expected stream of gossip and stares had vanished, and life had returned to normal. The basements of Eastern U hadn’t held a fight in weeks. Adam made a point of keeping a low profile after the arrests had lead to questions about what exactly had gone on that night, and Travis grew irritable waiting for a phone call to summon him to his last fight of the year; the fight that paid most of his bills for the summer, and well into the fall.

The snow was still thick on the ground, and on the Friday before break, one last snowball fight broke out on the crystalline lawn. Travis and I weaved through the flying ice to the cafeteria, and I held tight to his arm, trying to avoid both the snowballs and falling to the ground.

“They’re not going to hit you, Pidge. They know better,” Travis said, holding his red, cold nose to my