“Me? Fine, why?” he said, smoothing the features of his face.
“You’ve just been quiet.”
Several members of the football team approached the table and sat down, laughing loudly. Travis looked a bit annoyed as he rolled his food around on his plate.
Chris Jenks tossed a french fry onto Travis’ plate. “What’s up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. She’s been raking your name through the mud today.”
“Shut up, Jenks,” Travis said, keeping his eyes on his food.
I leaned forward so the brawny giant sitting in front of Travis could experience the full force of my glare. “Knock it off, Chris.”
Travis’ eyes bored into mine. “I can take care of myself, Abby.”
“I’m sorry, I….”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to be anything,” he snapped, shoving away from the table and storming out the door.
Finch looked over at me with raised eyebrows. “Whoa. What was that about?”
I stabbed a tater tot with my fork and puffed. “I don’t know.”
Shepley patted my back. “It’s nothing you did, Abby.”
“He just has stuff going on,” America added.
“What kind of stuff?” I asked.
Shepley shrugged and turned his attention to his plate. “You should know by now that it takes patience and a forgiving attitude to be friends with Travis. He’s his own universe.”
I shook my head. “That’s the Travis everyone else sees…not the Travis I know.”
Shepley leaned forward. “There’s no difference. You just have to ride the wave.”
After class, I rode with America to the apartment to find Travis’ motorcycle gone. I went into his room and curled into a ball on his bed, resting my head on my arm. Travis had been fine that morning. As much time as we had spent together, I couldn’t believe I didn’t see that something had been bothering him. Not only that, it disturbed me that America seemed to know what was going on and I didn’t.
My breathing evened out and my eyes grew heavy; it wasn’t long before I fell asleep. When my eyes opened again, the night sky had darkened the window. Muffled voices filtered down the hall from the living room, including Travis’ deep tone. I crept down the hall, and then froze when I heard my name.
“Abby gets it, Trav. Don’t beat yourself up,” Shepley said.
“You’re already going to the date party. What’s the harm in asking her out?” America asked.
I stiffened, waiting for his response. “I don’t want to date her; I just want to be around her. She’s…different.”
“Different how?” America asked, sounding irritated.
“She doesn’t put up with my bullshit, it’s refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. I’m not her type. It’s just not…like that with us.”
“You’re closer to her type than you know,” America said.
I backed up as quietly as I could, and when the wooden boards creaked beneath my bare feet, I reached over to pull Travis’ bedroom door shut, and then walked down the hall.
“Hey, Abby,” America smiled. “How was your nap?”
“I was out for five hours. That’s closer to a coma than a nap.”
Travis stared at me for a moment, and when I smiled at him, he walked straight toward me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me down the hall to his bedroom. He shut the door, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest, bracing for him to say something else to crush my ego.
His eyebrows pulled in. “I’m so sorry, Pidge. I was an asshole to you earlier.”
I relaxed a bit, seeing the remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t know you were mad at me.”
“I wasn’t mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. It’s a piss poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,” he said, enveloping me in his arms.
I nestled my cheek against his chest, settling in. “What were you mad about?”
“It’s not important. The only thing I’m worried about is you.”