Beautiful Disaster 02 Walking Disaster (5 page)

Shepley didn’t answer, but Abby’s gray eyes peeked up at me over a small smile. I was on a roll today. She couldn’t hate me if she tried. I don’t know why I was so
worried. It wasn’t like I wanted to date her or anything. She just seemed like the perfect platonic experiment. She was basically a good girl—albeit slightly angry—and
didn’t need me fucking up her five-year plan. If she had one.

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

“I haven’t
tried
to charm her,” I said. I was just getting ahead, and America was sinking my battleship. “She’s my friend.”

Abby looked to Shepley. “I told you. You have nothing to worry about.”

Shepley met Abby’s eyes, and then his expression smoothed. Crisis averted. Abby saved the day.

I waited for a minute, trying to think of something to say. I wanted to ask Abby to come over later, but it would be lame after America’s comment. A brilliant idea popped into my head, and
I didn’t hesitate. “Did
you
study?”

Abby frowned. “No amount of studying is going to help me with biology. It’s just not something I can wrap my head around.”

I stood, nodding toward the door. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Let’s go get your notes. I’m going to help you study.”

“Travis . . .”

“Get your ass up, Pidge. You’re gonna ace that test.”

The next three seconds might have been the longest of my life. Abby finally stood. She passed America and tugged on her hair. “See you in class, Mare.”

She smiled. “I’ll save you a seat. I’ll need all the help I can get.”

I held the door open for her as we left the cafeteria, but she didn’t seem to notice. Again, I was only horrifically disappointed.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept pace with her during the short walk to Morgan Hall, and then I watched as she fidgeted with her door key.

Abby finally pushed the door open, and then tossed her biology book onto the bed. She sat down and crossed her legs, and I fell onto the mattress, noting how stiff and uncomfortable it was. No
wonder all the girls at this school were cranky. They couldn’t possibly get a good night’s rest on these damn mattresses. Jesus.

Abby turned to the correct page of her textbook, and I went to work. We went over the key points of the chapter. It was kind of cool how she watched me while I talked. Almost like she was both
hanging on to every word, and amazed that I knew how to read. A few times I could tell by her expression that she didn’t understand, so I’d go back over it, and then her eyes would
brighten. I started working hard for the lights-on look on her face after that.

Before I knew it, it was time for her to go to class. I sighed, and then smacked her playfully on the head with her study guide.

“You got this. You know this study guide backward and forward.”

“Well . . . we’ll see.”

“I’m going to walk you to class. I’ll quiz you on the way.” I waited for a polite rejection, but she offered a small smile and nodded.

We walked into the hall, and she sighed. “You’re not going to be mad if I flunk this test, are you?”

She was worried if I was going to be mad at her? I wasn’t sure what I should think about that, but it felt pretty fucking awesome.

“You’re not going to flunk, Pidge. We need to start earlier for the next one, though,” I said, walking along with her to the science building. I asked her question after
question. She answered most right away, some she hesitated about, but she got them all correct.

We reached the door of her classroom, and I could see the appreciation on her face. She was too proud to admit it, though.

“Kick ass,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

Parker Hayes passed by and nodded. “Hey, Trav.”

I hated that douche. “Parker,” I said, nodding back.

Parker was one of those guys that liked to follow me around and use his White Knight status to get laid. He liked to refer to me as a womanizer, but the truth was, Parker just played a more
sophisticated game. He wasn’t honest about his conquests. He pretended to care and then let them down easy.

One night our freshman year, I took Janet Littleton home from the Red Door to my apartment. Parker was trying to get lucky with her friend. We went our separate ways from the club, and after I
bagged her and didn’t pretend to want a relationship afterward, she called her friend all pissed off to come get her. The friend was still with Parker, so he ended up taking Janet home.

After that, Parker had a new story to tell his conquests. Whatever girl I bagged, he usually swept up my sloppy seconds by recounting the time he saved Janet.

I tolerated him, but only just barely.

Parker’s eyes targeted Pigeon and immediately lit up. “Hey, Abby.”

I didn’t understand why Parker was so insistent on seeing if he could land the same girls I did, but he’d had class with her for several weeks and was just now showing interest.
Knowing it was because he saw her talking to me nearly sent me into a fury.

“Hi,” Abby said, taken off guard. She clearly didn’t know why he was suddenly talking to her. It was written all over her face. “Who’s that?” she asked
me.

I shrugged casually, but I wanted to tear across the room and beat his preppy ass. “Parker Hayes,” I said. His name left a bad taste in my mouth. “He’s one of my Sig Tau
brothers.” That left a bad taste, too. I had brothers, both frat and blood. Parker felt like neither. More like an archenemy that you kept close enough to keep an eye on.

“
You’re
in a
frat
?” she asked, her little nose wrinkling up.

“Sigma Tau, same as Shep. I thought you knew.”

“Well . . . you don’t seem the . . . fraternity type,” she said, eyeing the tattoos on my forearms.

The fact that Abby’s eyes were back on me immediately put me in a better mood. “My dad is an alumnus, and my brothers are all Sig Tau. It’s a family thing.”

“And they expected you to pledge?” she asked, skeptical.

“Not really. They’re just good guys,” I said, flicking her papers. I handed them to her. “Better get to class.”

She flashed that flawless smile. “Thanks for helping me.” She nudged me with her elbow, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

She walked into the classroom and sat next to America. Parker was staring at her, watching the girls talking. I fantasized about picking up a desk and hurling it at his head as I walked down the
hall. With no more classes for the day, there was no reason for me to stick around. A long ride on the Harley would help keep the thought of Parker sleazing his way into Abby’s good graces
from driving me crazy, so I made sure to take the long way home to give me more time to think. A few couch-worthy coeds crossed my path, but Abby’s face kept popping into my mind—so
many times that I began to annoy myself.

I had notoriously been a piece of shit to every girl with whom I’d had a private conversation over the age of sixteen—since I was fifteen. Our story might have been typical: Bad boy
falls for good girl, but Abby was no princess. She was hiding something. Maybe that was our connection: whatever it was that she had left behind.

I pulled into the apartment parking lot and climbed off the bike. So much for thinking better on the Harley. Everything I’d just unraveled in my head made no fucking sense. I was just
trying to justify my weird obsession with her.

Suddenly in a very bad mood, I slammed the door behind me and sat on the couch, and became even more pissed off when I couldn’t find the remote right away.

Black plastic landed beside me as Shepley passed to sit in the recliner. I picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, turning it on.

“Why do you take the remote to your bedroom? You just have to bring it back in here,” I snapped.

“I don’t know, man, it’s just habit. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t know,” I grumbled, flipping on the TV. I pressed the mute button. “Abby Abernathy.”

Shepley’s eyebrow pushed up. “What about her?”

“She gets under my skin. I think I just need to bag her and get it over with.”

Shepley eyed me for a while, unsure. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you not fucking up my life with your newfound restraint, but you’ve never needed my permission
before . . . unless . . . don’t tell me you finally give a shit about someone.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Shepley couldn’t contain his grin. “You care about her. I guess it just took a girl refusing to sleeping with you for more than a twenty-four-hour period.”

“Laura made me wait a week.”

“Abby won’t give you the time of day, though?”

“She just wants to be friends. I guess I’m lucky she doesn’t treat me like a leper.”

After an awkward silence, Shepley nodded. “You’re scared.”

“Of what?” I asked with a dubious smirk.

“Rejection.
Mad Dog
is one of us after all.”

My eye twitched. “You know I fucking hate that, Shep.”

Shepley smiled. “I know. Almost as much as you hate the way you feel right now.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.”

“So you like her and you’re scared. Now what?”

“Nothing. It just sucks that I finally found the girl worth having and she’s too good for me.”

Shepley tried to stifle a laugh. It was irritating that he was so amused about my predicament. He straightened his smile and then said, “Why don’t you let her make that decision for
herself?”

“Because I care about her just enough to want to make it for he r.”

Shepley stretched and then stood, his bare feet dragging across the carpet. “You want a beer?”

“Yeah. Let’s drink to friendship.”

“So you’re going to keep hanging out with her? Why? That sounds like torture to me.”

I thought about it for a minute. It did sound like torture, but not as bad as just watching her from afar. “I don’t want her to end up with me . . . or any other dick.”

“You mean or anyone else. Dude, that’s nuts.”

“Get my fuckin’ beer and shut up.”

Shepley shrugged. Unlike Chris Jenks, Shepley knew when to shut up.

T
HE DECISION WAS CRAZY, BUT FREEING. THE NEXT DAY
I walked into the cafeteria, and without a second thought, sat in the
empty seat across from Abby. Being around her was natural and easy, and other than having to put up with the prodding eyes of the general student population, and even some professors, she seemed to
like having me around.

“We studying today or what?”

“We are,” she said, unfazed.

The only negative about hanging out with her as friends was the more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. It was harder to forget the color and shape of her eyes, and the way her lotion
smelled on her skin. I also noticed more about her, like how long her legs were, and the colors she wore most often. I even got a pretty good handle on which week I shouldn’t give her any
extra shit, which fortunately for Shepley, was the same week not to fuck with America. That way, we had three weeks to not be on guard instead of two, and we could give each other fair warning.

Even at her worst, Abby wasn’t fussy like most girls. The only thing that seemed to affect her was the occasional questions about our relationship, but as long as I took care of it, she
got over it pretty fast.

As more time passed, people speculated less. We ate lunch together on most days, and on the nights when we studied, I’d take her out to dinner. Shepley and America invited us to a movie
once. It was never awkward, never a question of whether we were more than friends. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, especially since my decision not to pursue her in that way didn’t
stop me from fantasizing about making her moan on my couch—until one night I was watching her and America poke and tickle each other at the apartment and I imagined Abby in my bed.

She needed to get outta my head.

The only cure was to stop thinking about her long enough to land my next conquest.

A few days later, a familiar face caught my eye. I’d seen her before with Janet Littleton. Lucy was fairly hot, never missed a chance to show off her cleavage, and very vocal about hating
my guts. Fortunately it took me thirty minutes and a tentative invite to the Red to get her home. I’d barely shut the front door before she was removing my clothes. So much for the deep well
of hatred she had harbored toward me since last year. She left with a smile on her face and disappointment in her eyes.

I still had Abby on my mind.

Not even postorgasm fatigue was going to cure it, and I felt something new: guilt.

The next day, I rushed to history class and slid into the desk next to Abby. She already had out her laptop and book, barely acknowledging my presence when I sat down.

The classroom was darker than usual; the clouds outside robbed the room of the natural light that usually poured in through the windows. I nudged her elbow, but she wasn’t as receptive as
usual, so I snatched her pencil out of her hand and began doodling in the margins. Tattoos, mostly, but I scrawled her name in cool letters. She peeked over at me with an appreciative smile.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You wanna grab lunch off campus today?”

I can’t,
she mouthed.

I scribbled in her book.

Y?

Because I have to make use of my meal plan.

Bullshit.

Seriously.

I wanted to argue but was running out of room on the page.
Fine. Another mystery meal. Can’t wait.

She giggled, and I enjoyed that on-top-of-the-world feeling I experienced whenever I made her smile. A few more doodles and a legit drawing of a dragon later, Chaney dismissed class.

I tossed Abby’s pencil in her backpack as she packed away the rest of her things, and then we walked to the cafeteria.

We didn’t get as many stares as we had in the past. The student populace had grown accustomed to seeing us together on a regular basis. When we went through the line, we made small talk
about the new history paper Chaney had assigned. Abby ran her meal card and then made her way to the table. I immediately noticed one thing missing from her tray: the can of OJ she picked up every
day.