“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 to be covered in posters of barely-clothed women, but I didn’t even see an advertisement for a beer brand. His bed was black, his carpet gray, everything else in the room was white. It looked as if he’d just moved in.
“Nice PJ’s,” Travis said, noting my yellow and navy plaid shorts, and grey Eastern tee. He sat on his bed and patted the pillow beside him. “Well, come on. I’m not going to bite you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, walking over to the bed and dropping my biology book beside him. “Do you have a pen?”
He nodded to his night table. “Top drawer.”
I reached across the bed and pulled open the drawer, finding three pens, a pencil, a tube of KY jelly, and a clear, glass bowl overflowing with packages of different brands of condoms. Revolted, I grabbed a pen and shoved the drawer shut.
“What?” he asked, turning a page of my book.
“Did you rob the health clinic?”
“No. Why?”
I pulled the cap off the pen, unable to keep the sickened expression from my face. “Your lifetime supply of condoms.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
I rolled my eyes. Travis returned to the pages, a wry smile breaking across his lips. He read the notes to me, highlighting the main points while he asked me questions and patiently explained what I didn’t comprehend.
After an hour, I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my eyes. “I’m beat. I can’t memorize one more macromolecule.”
Travis smiled, closing my book. “All right.”
I paused, unsure of our sleeping arrangements. Travis left the room and walked down the hall, mumbling something into Shepley’s room before turning on the shower. I turned back the covers and then pulled them up to my neck, listening to the high-pitched whine of the water running through the pipes.
Ten minutes later, the water shut off, and the floors creaked under Travis’ steps. He strolled across the room with a towel wrapped around his hips. He had tattoos on opposite sides of his chest, and black tribal art covering each of his bulging shoulders. On his right arm, the black lines and symbols spanned from his shoulder to his wrist, on the left, the tattoos stopped at his elbow, with one single line of script on the underside of his forearm. I intentionally kept my back to him while he stood in front of his dresser and dropped his towel to slip on a pair of boxers.
After flipping off the light, he crawled into the bed beside me.
“You’re sleeping here, too?” I asked, turning to look at him. The full moon outside the windows cast shadows across his face. “Well, yeah. This is my bed.”
“I know, but I….” I paused. My only other options were the couch or the recliner.
Travis grinned and shook his head. “Don’t you trust me by now? I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear,” he said, holding up fingers that I was sure the Boy Scouts of America had never considered using.
I didn’t argue, I simply turned away and lay my head on the pillow, tucking the covers behind me so there was a clear barrier between his body and mine.
“Goodnight, Pigeon,” he whispered into my ear. I could feel his minty breath on my cheek, giving rise to goose bumps on every inch of my flesh. Thank God it was dark enough that he couldn’t see my embarrassing reaction, or the flush of my cheeks that followed.