Beautiful Disaster 01 (35 page)

I couldn’t look away from the bandage. “Okay…what did you do?”

Travis smiled and pulled me down to kiss him. I could feel the nervousness radiating from him. Outwardly he was smiling, but I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t sure how I would react to what he had done.

“I got a few things today.”

“Like what?” I asked, suspicious.

Travis laughed. “Calm down, Pidge. It’s nothing bad.”

“What happened to your wrist?” I said, pulling his hand up by his fingers.

A thunderous diesel motor pulled up outside and Travis hopped up from the couch, opening the door. “It’s about fucking time! I’ve been home for at least five minutes!” he said with a smile.

One man walked in backwards, carrying a plastic-covered grey sofa, followed by another man bringing in the rear. Shepley and Travis moved the couch—with me and Toto still on it—forward, and then the men sat the new one in its place. Travis pulled off the plastic and then lifted me in his arms, setting me on the soft cushions.

“You got a new one?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yep, and a couple of other things, too. Thanks guys,” he said as the movers lifted the old couch and left the way they came.

“There goes a lot of memories,” I smirked.

“None that I want to hold on to.” He sat beside me and sighed, watching me for a moment before he pulled off the tape that held the gauze on his arm. “Don’t freak out.”

My mind raced with what could be under that bandage. I imagined a burn, or stitches or something equally gruesome.

He pulled the bandage back and I gasped at the simple black script tattooed across the underside of his wrist, the skin around it red and shiny from the antibiotic he had smeared on. I shook my head in disbelief as I read the word.

Pigeon

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“You had my name tattooed on your wrist?” I said the words, but it didn’t sound like my voice. My mind was stretching in every direction, and yet I managed to speak in a calm, even tone.

“Yeah,” he said, kissing my cheek as I stared in disbelief at the permanent ink in his skin.

“I tried to talk him out of it, Abby. He hasn’t done anything crazy in awhile. I think he was having withdrawals,” Shepley said, shaking his head.

“What do you think?” Travis prompted.

“I don’t know what to think,” I said.

“You should have asked her first, Trav,” America said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her fingers.

“Asked her what? If I could get a tattoo?” he frowned, turning to me. “I love you. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

I shifted nervously, “That’s permanent, Travis.”

“So are we,” he said, touching my cheek.

“Show her the rest,” Shepley said.

“The
rest
?” I said, looking down to his other wrist.

Travis stood, pulling up his shirt. His impressive six-pack stretched and tightened with the movement. Travis turned, and on his side was another fresh tattoo spanning the length of his ribs.

“What is
that
?” I asked, squinting at the vertical symbols.

“It’s Hebrew,” Travis smiled.

“What does it mean?”

“It says, ‘I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”

My eyes darted to his. “You weren’t happy with just one tattoo, you had to get two?”

“It’s something I always said I would do when I met The One. I met you…I went and got the tats.” His smile faded when he saw my expression. “You’re pissed, aren’t you?” he said, pulling his shirt down.

“I’m not mad. I’m just…it’s a little overwhelming.”

Shepley squeezed America to his side with one arm. “Get used to it now, Abby. Travis is impulsive and goes balls to the wall on everything. This’ll tide him over until he can get a ring on your finger.”

America’s eyebrows shot up, first to me, and then to Shepley. “
What
? They just started dating!”

“I…think I need a drink,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

Travis chuckled, watching me rifle through the cabinets. “He was kidding, Pidge.”

“I was?” Shepley asked.

“He wasn’t talking about anytime soon,” Travis hedged. He turned to Shepley and grumbled, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

“Maybe you’ll quit talking about it, now,” Shepley grinned.

I poured a shot of whiskey into a glass and jerked my head back, swallowing it all at once. My face compressed as the liquid burned down my throat.

Travis gently wrapped his arms around my middle from behind. “I’m not proposing, Pidge. They’re tattoos.”

“I know,” I said, nodding my head as I poured another drink.

Travis pulled the bottle from my hand and twisted the cap on, shoving it back into the cabinet. When I didn’t turn around, he pivoted my hips so that I would face him.

“Okay. I should have talked to you about it first, but I decided to buy the couch, and then one thing led to another. I got excited.”

“This is very fast for me, Travis. You’ve mentioned moving in together, you just branded yourself with my name, you’re telling me you love me…this is all very…fast.”

Travis frowned. “You’re freakin’ out. I told you not to freak out.”

“It’s hard not to! You found out about my dad and everything you felt before has suddenly been amplified!”

“Who’s your dad?” Shepley asked, clearly unhappy about being out of the loop. When I didn’t acknowledge his question, he sighed. “Who’s her dad?” he asked America. America should her head dismissively.

Travis’ expression twisted with disgust. “My feelings for you have
nothing
to do with your dad.”

“We’re going to this date party tomorrow. It’s supposed to be this big deal where we’re announcing our relationship or something, and now you have my name on your arm and this proverb talking about how we belong to each other! It’s freaky, okay? I’m
freaked
out
!”

Travis grabbed my face and planted his mouth on mine, and then he lifted me off the floor, setting me on the counter. His tongue begged entrance into my mouth, and when I let him in, he moaned.

His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer. “You are so fucking hot when you’re mad,” he said against my lips.

“Okay,” I breathed, “I’m calm.”

He smiled, pleased that his plan of distraction had worked. “Everything’s still the same, Pidge. It’s still just you and me.”

“You two are nuts,” Shepley said, shaking his head.

America playfully smacked Shepley’s shoulder. “Abby bought something for Travis today, too.”

“America!” I scolded.

“You found a dress?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeah,” I wrapped my legs and arms around him. Tomorrow it’s going to be your turn to be freaked out.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, pulling me off the counter. I waved to America as Travis carried me down the hall.

Friday after class, America and I spent the afternoon downtown, primping and indulging. We had our nails and toes done, errant hairs waxed, skin bronzed and hair highlighted. When we returned to the apartment, every surface had been covered with bouquets of roses. Reds, pinks, yellows, and whites—it looked like a floral shop.

“Oh my God!” America squealed when she walked through the door.

Shepley looked around him, standing proud. “We went to buy you two flowers, but neither of us thought just one bouquet would do it.”

I hugged Travis. “You guys are…you’re amazing. Thank you.”

He smacked my backside. “Thirty minutes until the party, Pidge.”

The boys dressed in Travis’ room while we slipped on our dresses in Shepley’s. Just as I was fastening my silver heels, someone knocked on the door.

“Time to go, ladies,” Shepley said.

America walked out, and Shepley whistled.

“Where is she?” Travis asked.

“Abby’s having some trouble with her shoe. She’ll be out in just a sec,” America explained.

“The suspense is killin’ me, Pigeon!” Travis called.

I walked out, fidgeting with my dress while Travis stood in front of me, blank-faced.

America elbowed him and he blinked. “Holy shit.”

“Are you ready to be freaked out?” America asked.

“I’m not freaked out, she looks amazing,” Travis said.

I smiled and then slowly turned around to show him the steep dip of the fabric in the back of the dress.

“Okay, now I’m freakin’ out,” he said, walking over to me and turning me around.

“You don’t like it?” I asked.

“You need a jacket.” He jogged to the rack and then hastily draped my coat over my shoulders.

“She can’t wear that all night, Trav,” America chuckled.

“You look beautiful, Abby,” Shepley said as an apology for Travis’ behavior.

Travis’ expression was pained as he spoke. “You do. You look incredible…but you can’t wear that. Your skirt is…wow, your legs are…your skirt is too short and it’s only half a dress! It doesn’t even have a back on it!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the way it’s made, Travis.”

“Do you two live to torture each other?” Shepley frowned.

“Do you have a longer dress?” Travis asked.

I looked down. “It’s actually pretty modest in the front. It’s just the back that shows off a lot of skin.”

“Pigeon,” he winced with his next words, “I don’t want you to be mad, but I can’t take you to my frat house looking like that. I’ll get in a fight the first five minutes we’re there, Baby.”

I leaned up on the balls of my feet and kissed his lips. “I have faith in you.”

“This night is gonna suck,” he groaned.