Beautiful Disaster (13 page)

At dinner, Parker talked about Harvard, and the House, and his plans to search for an apartment. His eyebrows pulled in. “Will Travis be escorting you to your birthday party?”

“I'm not really sure. He hasn't said anything about it.”

“If he doesn't mind, I'd like to take you.” He took my hand in his and kissed my fingers.

“I'll ask him. The party was his idea, so …”

“I understand. If not, I'll just see you there,” he smiled.

Parker took me to the apartment, slowing to a stop in the parking lot. When he kissed me goodbye, his lips lingered on mine. He yanked up the parking brake as his lips traveled along the ridge of my jaw to my ear and then halfway down my neck. It took me off-guard, and I let out a quiet sigh in response.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I've been distracted all night, with your hair pulled away from
your neck.” He peppered my neck with kisses and I exhaled, a hum escaping with my breath.

“What took you so long?” I smiled, lifting my chin to give him better access.

Parker focused on my lips. He grabbed each side of my face, kissing me a bit firmer than usual. We didn't have much room in the car, but we made the space available work to our advantage. He leaned against me, and I bent my knee as I fell against the window. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, and his hand grabbed my ankle and then slid up my leg to my thigh. The windows fogged within minutes with our labored breaths sticking to the cool windows. His lips grazed my collarbone, and then his head jerked up when the glass vibrated with several loud thumps.

Parker sat up, and I righted myself, adjusting my dress. I jumped when the door flew open. Travis and America stood beside the car. America wore a sympathetic frown, and Travis seemed just short of flying into a blind rage.

“What the hell, Travis?” Parker yelled.

The situation suddenly felt dangerous. I'd never heard Parker raise his voice, Travis's knuckles were white as he balled them into fists at his sides—and I was in the way. America's hand seemed tiny when she placed it on Travis's bulky arm, shaking her head at Parker in silent warning.

“C'mon, Abby. I need to talk to you,” she said.

“About what?”

“Just come on!” she snapped.

I looked to Parker, seeing the irritation in his eyes. “I'm sorry, I have to go.”

“No, it's fine. Go ahead.”

Travis helped me from the Porsche and then kicked the door shut. I flipped around and stood between him and the car, shoving his shoulder. “What is wrong with you? Knock it off!”

America seemed nervous. It didn't take long to figure out why. Travis reeked of whiskey; she had insisted on accompanying him, or he'd asked her to come. Either way she was a deterrent to violence.

The wheels of Parker's shiny Porsche squealed out of the parking lot, and Travis lit a cigarette. “You can go in, now, Mare.”

She tugged on my skirt. “C'mon, Abby.”

“Why don't you stay, Abs,” he seethed.

I nodded for America to go ahead and she reluctantly complied. I crossed my arms, ready for a fight, preparing myself to lash out at him after the inevitable lecture. Travis took several drags from his cigarette, and when it was obvious that he wasn't going to explain, my patience ran out.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Why? Because he was mauling you in front of my apartment!” he yelled. His eyes were unfocused, and I could see that he was incapable of rational conversation.

I kept my voice calm. “I may be staying with you, but what I do and who I do it with is my business.”

He flicked his cigarette to the ground. “You're so much better than that, Pidge. Don't let him fuck you in a car like a cheap prom date.”

“I wasn't going to have sex with him!”

He gestured to the empty space where Parker's car sat. “What were you doing, then?”

“Haven't you ever made out with someone, Travis? Haven't you just messed around without letting it get that far?”

He frowned and shook his head as if I were speaking gibberish. “What's the point in that?”

“The concept exists for a lot of people … especially those that date.”

“The windows were all fogged up, the car was bouncing … how was I supposed to know?” he said, waving his arms in the direction of the empty parking slot.

“Maybe you shouldn't spy on me!”

He rubbed his face and shook his head. “I can't stand this, Pigeon. I feel like I'm going crazy.”

I threw out my hands and let them hit my thighs. “You can't stand what?”

“If you sleep with him, I don't wanna know about it. I'll go to prison for a long time if I find out he … just don't tell me.”

“Travis,” I seethed. “I can't believe you just said that! That's a big step for me!”

“That's what all girls say!”

“I don't mean the sluts you deal with! I mean me!” I said, holding my hand to my chest. “I haven't … ugh! Never mind.” I walked away from him, but he grabbed my arm, twirling me around to face him.

“You haven't what?” he asked, weaving a bit. I didn't answer—I didn't have to. I could see the recognition light up his face and he laughed once. “You're a virgin?”

“So what?” I said, the blood under my cheeks igniting.

His eyes drifted from mine, in and out of focus as he tried to think through the whiskey. “That's why America was so sure it wouldn't get too far.”

“I had the same boyfriend all four years of high school. He was an aspiring Baptist youth minister! It never came up!”

Travis's anger vanished, and relief was apparent in his eyes. “A youth minister? What happened after all that hard-earned abstinence?”

“He wanted to get married and stay in … Kansas. I didn't.” I was desperate to change the subject. The amusement in Travis's eyes was humiliating enough. I didn't want him digging further into my past.

He took a step toward me and held each side of my face. “A virgin,” he said, shaking his head. “I would have never guessed with the way you danced at the Red.”

“Very funny,” I said, stomping up the stairs.

Travis attempted to follow me but tripped and fell, rolling onto his back and laughing hysterically.

“What are you doing? Get up!” I said, helping him to his feet.

He hooked his arm around my neck, and I helped him up the stairs. Shepley and America were already in bed, so with no help in sight, I kicked off my heels to avoid breaking my ankles while walking Travis to the bedroom. He fell on his back to the bed, pulling me with him.

When we landed, my face was just inches from his. His expression was suddenly serious. He leaned up, nearly kissing me, but I pushed him away. Travis's eyebrows pulled in.

“Knock it off, Trav,” I said.

He held me tight against him until I quit struggling, and then he flicked the strap of my dress, causing it to hang off my shoulder. “Since the word virgin came out of those beautiful lips of yours … I have a sudden urge to help you out of that dress.”

“Well, that's too bad. You were ready to kill Parker for the same thing twenty minutes ago, so don't be a hypocrite.”

“Fuck Parker. He doesn't know you like I do.”

“Trav, c'mon. Let's get your clothes off and get you in bed.”

“That's what I'm talkin' about,” he chuckled.

“How much did you drink?” I asked, finally getting my footing between his legs.

“Enough,” he smiled, pulling at the hem of my dress.

“You probably surpassed enough a gallon ago,” I said, slapping his hand away. I planted my knee on the mattress beside him and pulled his shirt over his head. He reached for me again and I grabbed his wrist, sniffing at the pungent stench in the air. “God, Trav, you reek of Jack Daniel's.”

“Jim Beam,” he corrected with a drunken nod.

“It smells like burned wood and chemicals.”

“It tastes like it, too,” he laughed. I pulled open his belt buckle and yanked it from the loops. He laughed with the jerking motion and then lifted his head to look at me. “Better guard your virginity, Pidge. You know I like it rough.”

“Shut up,” I said, unbuttoning his jeans, slipping them down over his hips and then off his legs. I threw the denim to the floor and stood with my hands on my hips, breathing hard. His legs were
hanging off the end of the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and heavy. He had passed out.

I walked to the closet, shaking my head as I rifled through our clothes. I unzipped my dress and shoved it down over my hips, letting it fall to my ankles. Kicking it into the corner, I pulled my ponytail holder from my hair, shaking out my hair.

The closet was bursting with his clothes and mine, and I puffed, blowing my hair from my face as I searched through the mess for a T-shirt. As I pulled one off the hanger, Travis slammed into my back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“You scared the shit outta me!” I complained.

He ran his hands over my skin. They felt different, slow and deliberate. I closed my eyes when he pulled me against him and buried his face in my hair, nuzzling my neck. As I felt his bare skin against mine, it took me a moment to protest.

“Travis …”

He pulled my hair to one side and grazed his lips along my back from one shoulder to the other, unsnapping the clahem sp of my bra. He kissed the bare skin at the base of my neck and I closed my eyes; the warm softness of his mouth felt too good to make him stop. A quiet moan escaped from his throat when he pressed his pelvis against mine, and I could feel how much he wanted me through his boxers. I held my breath, knowing the only thing keeping us from that big step I was so opposed to a few moments before was two thin pieces of fabric.

Travis turned me to face him, and then pressed against me, leaning my back against the wall. Our eyes met, and I could see the ache in his expression
as he scanned the bare pieces of my skin. I had seen him peruse women before, but this was different. He didn't want to conquer me; he wanted me to say yes.

He leaned in to kiss me, stopping just an inch away. I could feel the heat from his skin radiating against my lips, and I had to stop myself from drawing him in the rest of the way. His fingers were digging into my skin as he deliberated, and then his hands slid from my back to the hem of my panties. His index fingers slid down my hips in between my skin and the lacy fabric, and in the same moment that he was about to slip the delicate threads down my legs, he hesitated. Just when I opened my mouth to say yes, he clenched his eyes shut.

“Not like this,” he whispered, brushing his lips across mine. “I want you, but not like this.”

He stumbled backward, falling against the bed to his back, and I stood for a moment with my arms crossed across my stomach. When his breathing evened out, I shoved my arms through the shirt I still had in my hand and yanked it over my head. Travis didn't move, and I blew out a slow breath of air, knowing I couldn't restrain either of us if I crawled in bed and he woke up with a less honorable perspective.

I hurried to the recliner and collapsed into it, covering my face with my hands. I felt the layers of frustration dancing and crashing into each other inside of me. Parker had left feeling slighted, Travis waited until I was seeing someone—someone I truly liked—to show an interest in me, and I seemed to be the only girl he couldn't bring himself to sleep with, even when he was wasted.

The next morning, I poured orange juice into a tall glass and took a sip as I bobbed my head to the music playing from my iPod. I woke before the sun and then squirmed in the recliner until eight. After that, I decided to clean up the kitchen to pass the time until my less ambitious roommates awoke. I loaded the dishwasher and swept and mopped, and then wiped the counters down. When the kitchen was sparkling, I grabbed the basket of clean clothes and sat on the couch, folding until there were a dozen or more piles surrounding me.

Murmuring came from Shepley's room. America giggled and then it was quiet for a few minutes more, followed by noises that made me feel a bit uncomfortable sitting alone in the living room.

I stacked the piles of folded clothes in the basket and carried it to Travis's room, smiling when I saw that he hadn't moved from the way he had fallen the night before. I set the basket down and pulled the blanket over him, stifling a laugh when he turned over.

“View, Pigeon,” he said, mumbling something inaudible before his breathing returned to slow and deep.

I couldn't help but watch him sleep; knowing he was dreaming about me sent a thrill through my veins that I couldn't explain. Travis seemed to settle back into a quiet sleep, so I decided to take a shower, hoping the sound of someone up and around would quiet Shepley and America's moans and the creaking and banging of the bed against the wall. When I
turned off the water, I realized they weren't worried about who could hear.

I combed my hair, rolling my eyes at America's high-pitched yelps, more closely resembling a poodle than a porn star. The doorbell rang, and I grabbed my blue terrycloth robe and tightened the belt, jogging across the living room floor. The noises from Shepley's bedroom immediately cut off, and I opened the door to Parker's smiling face.

“Good morning,” he said.

I raked my wet hair back with my fingers. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn't like the way we said goodbye last night. I went out this morning to get your birthday present, and I couldn't wait to give it to you. So,” he said, pulling a shiny box from his jacket pocket, “Happy Birthday, Abs.”

He set the silver package in my hand, and I leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Go ahead. I want to see your face when you open it.”

I slipped my finger under the tape on the underside of the box, and then pulled the paper off, handing it to him. A rope of shimmering diamonds sat snugly in a white gold bracelet.