Beautiful Disaster

jogged down the steps, and pulled both of our suitcases from the trunk, following us up the stairs.

“It’s open,” he puffed.

America pushed the door and held it open. Shepley grunted when he dropped our luggage to the floor. “Christ, Baby! Your suitcase is twenty more pounds than Abby’s!”

America and I froze when a woman emerged from the bathroom, buttoning her blouse.

“Hi,” she said, surprised. Her mascara-smeared eyes examined us before settling on our luggage. I recognized her as the leggy brunette Travis had followed from the cafeteria.

America glared at Shepley.

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

Travis rounded the corner in a pair of boxer shorts and yawned. He looked at his guest, and then patted her backside. “My company’s here. You’d better go.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his neck. “I’ll leave my number on the counter.”

“Eh…don’t worry about it,” Travis said in a casual tone.

“What?” she asked, leaning back to look in his eyes.

“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.

The girl narrowed her eyes at Travis, and then grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Travis walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge as if nothing had happened.

America shook her head and walked down the hall. Shepley followed her, angling his body to compensate for the weight of her suitcase as he trailed behind.

I collapsed against the recliner and sighed, wondering if I was crazy for agreeing to come. I didn’t realize Shepley’s apartment was a revolving door for clueless bimbos.

Travis stood behind the breakfast bar, crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “What’s wrong, Pidge? Hard day?”

“No, I’m thoroughly disgusted.”

“With me?” He was smiling. I should have known that he expected the conversation. It only made me less inclined to hold back.

“Yes, you. How can you just use someone like that, and treat them that way?”

“How did I treat her? She offered her number, I declined.”

My mouth fell open at his lack of remorse. “You’ll have sex with her, but you won’t take her number?”

Travis leaned on the counter with his elbows. “Why would I want her number if I’m not going to call her?”

“Why would you sleep with her if you’re not going to call her?”

“I don’t promise anyone anything, Pidge. She didn’t stipulate a relationship before she spread eagle on my couch.”

I stared at the couch with revulsion. “She’s someone’s daughter, Travis. What if, down the line, someone treats your daughter like that?”

“My daughter better not drop her panties for some jackass she just met, let’s put it that way.”

I crossed my arms, angry that he made sense. “So, besides admitting that you’re a jackass, you’re saying that because she slept with you, she deserved to be tossed out like a stray cat?”

“I’m saying that I was honest with her. She’s an adult, it was consensual… she was a little too eager about it if you want to know the truth. You act like I committed a crime.”

“She didn’t seem as clear about your intentions, Travis.”

“Women usually justify their actions with whatever they make up in their heads. She didn’t tell me upfront that she expected a relationship anymore than I told her I expected sex with no strings. How is it any different?”

“You’re a pig.”

Travis shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

I stared at the couch, the cushions still askew and bunched up from its recent use. I recoiled at the thought of how many women had given themselves away against the fabric. Itchy fabric at that.

“I guess I’m sleeping on the recliner,” I grumbled.

“Why?”

I glared at him, furious over his confused expression. “I’m not sleeping on that thing! God knows what I’d be laying in!”

He lifted my luggage off the floor. “You’re not sleeping on the couch or the recliner. You’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Which is more unsanitary than the couch, I’m sure.”

“There’s never been anyone in my bed but me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break!”

“I’m absolutely serious. I bag ‘em on the couch. I don’t let them in my room.”

“Then why am I allowed in your bed?”

One corner of his mouth pulled up into an impish grin. “Are you planning on having sex with me tonight?”

“No!”

“That’s why. Now get your cranky ass up, take your hot shower, and then we can study some Bio.”

I glared at him for a moment and then grudgingly did as he commanded. I stood under the shower entirely too long, letting the water wash away my aggravation. Massaging the shampoo through my hair, I sighed at how wonderful it was to shower in a non-communal bathroom again — no flip flops, no toiletry bag, just the relaxing blend of water and steam.

The door opened, and I jumped. “Mare?”

“No, it’s me,” Travis said.

I automatically wrapped my arms over the parts I didn’t want him to see. “What are you doing in here? Get out!”

“You forgot a towel, and I brought your clothes, and your toothbrush, and some weird face cream I found in your bag.”

“You went through my stuff?” I shrieked. He didn’t answer. Instead, I heard the faucet turn on and the sound of his toothbrush against his teeth.

I peeked out of the plastic curtain, holding it against my chest. “Get out, Travis.”

He looked up at me, his lips covered in suds from his toothpaste. “I can’t go to bed without brushing my teeth.”

“If you come within two feet of this curtain, I will poke out your eyes while you sleep.”

“I won’t peek, Pidge,” he chuckled.

I waited under the water with my arms wrapped tightly across my chest. He spit, gurgled, and spit again, and then the door closed. I rinsed the soap from my skin, dried as quickly as possible, and then pulled my t-shirt and shorts on, slipping on my glasses, and raking a comb through my hair. The night moisturizer Travis had brought caught my eye, and I couldn’t help but smile. He was thoughtful, and almost nice when he wanted to be.

Travis opened the door again. “C’mon, Pidge! I’m gettin’ old, here!”

I threw my comb at him and he ducked, shutting the door and laughing to himself all the way to his room. I brushed my teeth and then shuffled down the hall, passing Shepley’s bedroom on the way.

“Night, Abby,” America called from the darkness.

“Night, Mare.”

I hesitated before landing two soft knocks on Travis’ door.

“Come in, Pidge. You don’t have to knock.”

He pulled the door open and I walked in, seeing his black iron-rod bed parallel to the line of windows on the far side of the room. The walls were bare except for a lone sombrero above his headboard. I half-expected his room