I shot her a look. "Funny."
America giggle snorted, and then walked across the room, picking up a small balloon and touching it to her lips. Her cheeks bulged, her face turned red.
I looked at my watch. "Less than an hour." I glanced outside. "Why isn't anyone here, yet?"
"Spring training," America said.
I hissed the word fuck under my breath, and then froze when I heard a commotion just outside the door.
"I said ... no! Stop! Fucking stop, Travis!" Shepley said as he fell backwards through the door and onto the living room floor.
Travis stood in the doorway, breathing hard, a wide grin on his face. "Honey, I'm home!"
My mouth fell open, and in what felt like slow motion, I scream the word No!
"Why is he here?" America said to her boyfriend, accusation in her voice.
Shepley stood up and brushed himself off, red-faced and annoyed. "The second I tried to get him to go anywhere but home, he knew, okay? I did my best!"
Travis smirked, but his expression fell away when he saw mine.
"You couldn't have just pretended? You had to force your way in here to ruin all my plans?" I whined. I wasn't going to try to pretend. It was unfair.
"Baby," Travis said, shoving Shepley to the side as he walked toward me, arms out.
"No," I said, pushing him away. "Don't touch me. Don't!" I said, sulking. "Do you know how long I've been planning this? I didn't run around trying to ruin my surprise party!"
"No," Travis said, encapsulating me in his thick, inked arms. "Parker ruined it."
I frowned, pushing him away. "I was still surprised! You still pulled it off. Get off me!"
Travis leaned in to kiss my cheek. "I wanted to come home and see my wife, who I knew was working hard to make my birthday special."
"And then ruined it!" I snarled, still shoving him. I didn't know why I tried ... he didn't budge.
America hugged Shepley, and then kissed his cheek. "Do you ever get tired of him getting you in trouble?"
Shepley smoothed his hair, his brow furrowed. "He would have stolen my car and left me in the parking lot had I not jumped in the passenger side."
"Aw!" America said, unable to stop from giggling.
Shepley's arms were crossed, and he tried to pull away, but not very hard.
Travis grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him. Once our eyes met, I stopped struggling.
"Thank you," he said, smooching my already protruding lips. He let me go, and I felt a bit disorientated from the kiss and my futile struggle.
Someone knocked on the door, and Jason Brazil opened it and walked through, abruptly stopping when he saw Travis standing amid the half-decorated apartment. "Oh. Damn. Are we late?"
"Yeah," I said, throwing a balloon at Travis. "And he's in trouble."
"I am not," Travis said, half playful, half annoyed.
"Is the um," Brazil stuttered, "the uh ... the party still on?"
"Yes. I can't exactly cancel ten minutes before forty people are supposed to be here," I grumbled.
"Forty?" Travis said. "Is that all?"
"Minus the sluts," America explained.
Travis wasn't amused.
A couple of girls walked in behind Brazil, overly fake baked, a ton of makeup, and fake double D's bulging from their tight v-neck T's.
"April Fools'!" America said, glaring at our uninvited guests. "The sluts have arrived."
The sorority sisters wrinkled their noses at America, but after that paid her little attention. They followed Brazil as he hunted for the keg tap, and then laughed when he held it high in the air.
"Found it!" he said, waving it around like a toddler with a toy on the playground.
Brazil and his friends helped finish decorate by blowing up balloons and stringing streamers. More people arrived and joined in. The more Travis helped, the more disappointed I became. Not in him-but in myself. I had a famous poker face, I could hustle Vegas veterans for thousands, but couldn't pull off a small surprise birthday party for my husband.
As the sun set, the last of the guests arrived, Trenton and Camille. Trenton helped his girlfriend with her coat, and then turned to hug his little brother. "Happy birthday, ass hat!"
"Hey," Camille said, hugging me. "Looks great." She'd gotten her nose pierced since I'd seen her last, and her hair had a peek-a-boo black streak. The longer she worked for Skin Deep, the wilder she looked, and I was sure Trenton loved it. I smiled. All the ink and makeup looked good on her. She was in love, and couldn't have been happier.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said. My smile faded. "Travis came home early."
"Sounds like him," Camille said with a smirk. She was in her bartender attire, and would likely head to work after Travis's party. She winked at Travis, and then handed him a bottle of whiskey with a bow around its neck.
Travis kissed her cheek. "Thanks!"
"Hey!" Trenton said, frowning and pushing Travis's shoulder. "Get your fuckin' lips off my girl!"
Travis held up his hands. "All right, all right. Just showing my appreciation."
I sunk twenty candles into the icing of the cake, and then searched the kitchen for a lighter. After opening one drawer after another, I came up empty-handed. "This is ridiculous," I seethed. "I'm married to a pack-a-day smoker, and we have no lighters?" Travis flicked his lighter and held the flame in front of my face. I paused, and then snatched it from him. "Thanks," I said quietly, returning to where everyone was gathered, plates already in hand.
As I lit the wicks, America turned off the lights, and Travis stood at the breakfast bar over his cake, smiling at the words scrawled with icing on top. He slid his arms around my middle, nuzzling my neck while each new flame flickered.
"Nice cake," he said, whispering the words on top.
Happy 20th Fucking Birthday, Travis
"Glad you like it. The swearing was America's idea."
Travis held up his hand, high-fiving America. "Well done."
America simply nodded, her arms crossed over her middle, holding Shepley's hands. He was behind her, swaying a bit as they watched us. He had the sweetest smile on his face. I wasn't sure what he was thinking about, but I knew it involved America.
We sang Happy Birthday, and then Shepley turned up the music. We danced, and drank, and the police only showed up once. Half of the football team was present, as was most of his brothers from Sig Tau. Jim, Thomas, Taylor, and Tyler all called at different times, but each time, Travis would go outside to smoke and chat with his family. I kissed Travis each time he left, and every time I was reminded of my birthday, of how sweet he was that night, and how hard I tried not to fall in love with him-so we kissed a lot. At one point, Travis backed me into the hall, and he curled his fingers behind my neck, impatient to put his warm mouth on mine. He tasted like cheap beer and sugar, and I drew him deeper into my mouth.
Just when I thought he might lift me into his arms and carry me into his bedroom, the rhythm of his mouth slowed. He pulled away, kissed my cheek, and then whispered in my ear. "I'm surprised you haven't set up shots for me, yet."
"I didn't think you were hard up for money."
"I will be if I don't get that job."
I breathed out a laugh. "You've got the job. You just have to go in and accept it."
Travis glanced around the corner, and then returned his attention to me.
"What?" I asked.
"Just making sure they're not trashing the place."
"Aw. Listen to you. All grown up."
Travis frowned. "I've never had a party here ... because I didn't want to beat someone's ass for trashing it."
I touched his cheek. "Strictly a love dungeon, huh?"
Travis's face twisted into disgust. "A what?"
I giggled. "Nothing."
"Oh, you got jokes," he said, pinching my sides with my fingers.
I ran out into the living room, giggling and hiding behind America. Travis only chased me for a few seconds bef
ore a slow song came over the speakers--my favorite song. Our song. Travis pulled me into his arms. We swayed for a few moments before Travis pulled me tighter into his arms.
"You sort of told me you loved me for the first time the last time we danced to this song at a birthday party," he said.
"What?" I said, pulling back to look into his eyes. There was no humor in his eyes. "No, I didn't."
"Yeah. You were drunk outta your mind, but you said it. Well, kind of said it. You said that in another life, you could love me."
I smiled, gazing into his warm, russet irises. I recalled the first time I saw his eyes--in the basement of a building on campus. He was sweaty and covered in blood, but his eyes were home. "What did you say to that? You didn't run screaming?"
He shook his head, his gaze growing more intense. "I said I could love you in this one."
"You did?" I asked, touched. That was almost six months ago, and he'd never told me. "So you said it first. All this time ... I thought it was me."
"No," he chuckled. "It was never you. I definitely said it first. After your birthday, even."
"No," I shook my head. "It was the night I was supposed to go out with Parker."
He shook his head. "No, baby. I can't believe you don't remember."
"I do. I said it first. You just admitted it. I said it on my birthday."
"You kinda said it. Loving me in your next life doesn't count."
"Well," I said, lifting my chin and feeling victorious. "Welcome to our next life."
He stopped in the middle of the apartment. His shoulders fell, and his eyes poured over me with such love and adoration, my cheeks flushed. "Ain't that somethin'," he said, hugging me to him. He rested his chin in the crook of my neck, causing him to hunch over. "Got my birthday wish before I made it."
I pressed my cheek against his ear, listening to the words of our song, and taking in the moment. "It's your first birthday as my husband."
"Best birthday to-date," he replied. "And don't worry. You have the rest of our lives to try to surprise me."
"You're damn straight I do," I said, pulling him closer. "We have a thousand more surprises ahead of us." All of them good, I hope.
*****
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Thank you for reading the newest installment of Endlessly Beautiful! You might be a little confused. Readers reminded me that I forgot to chronicle Travis's birthday, so I did some rearranging to make this episode fit.
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Compromised
** PLEASE GO TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOR CAKE. THE EPISODES WERE REARRANGED FOR TIMELINE PURPOSES.**
:: Abby ::
"Baby," Travis said, pulling off his jacket and tossing it to the bed. "I said I was sorry."
"I know," I said, kicking off my heels.
He was two for two, getting kicked out of The Red the second time that month for fighting. Instead of being more relaxed because we were married, any guy that gave me a second look, offered a flirtatious smile, or even attempted to speak to me was a threat. In Travis's mind, he was now protecting his wife instead of his girlfriend. The stakes had been raise, and for him, that meant being more sensitive to any potential disrespect of the ring on my finger. No matter how many times I tried to explain to him that no one else mattered, Travis would inevitably threaten or swing at any stranger with a penis who paid me any attention.
We undressed in silence, took turns in the bathroom, and then Travis watched me climb into bed next to him. I slid between the sheets, and just as he reached for me, I turned onto my side, facing away from him. It was a strange feeling, being mad at him, but knowing I couldn't just catch a ride from America back to my dorm room. There would be no more break ups, no more fighting that lead to anything other than make-up sex and forgiveness. A big part of me felt relief, but the ring around my finger felt tight in that moment. Too tight.
I pulled it off, and sat it on the night stand.
Travis sat up. "What the fuck?" he said loudly.
I didn't turn to face him, but the boom of his voice and his quick movement startled me. "It's uncomfortable to sleep in."
Even with my back turned, I knew he was frowning. "Since when?"
I sighed. "Travis, please. I'm tired."
"Put on your ring, Pidge." He wasn't demanding. He was begging.
I swallowed. I had three choices. To ignore him--making a statement about my independence while simultaneously breaking his heart; to give in and continue lying, or, to give in and tell him the truth--also breaking his heart. I loved him more than anything, but I was still just nineteen. No matter how much I wanted to be, I wasn't ready to be married. Most of the time, when I was feeling particularly panicked about it, I tried to pretend we were still just dating. But at times like this, I couldn't. Travis wanted that level of commitment, and I wanted Travis. Marriage would eventually happen, but psychologically, I was still getting used to the seriousness of the choice I'd made.
"Abby," he prompted. "You promised."
I reached for the small metal circle, and shoved it on my finger. Jim had whispered in my ear one afternoon that marriage was all about compromise, but sometimes compromise felt like self-inflicted coercion. "You're right. I'm sorry."
He lay back down, snuggling up behind me, holding me close. I closed my eyes, the ring squeezing my finger, and Travis squeezing me. The air felt dry, my throat felt tight. I pushed away from him and scrambled from our bed.
"I just," I began, breathing hard. "I thought you were finished with that."
"You're mad."
"Yes, I'm mad! And disappointed! And afraid!"
He looked horrified. "Pidge, I would never--"
"I know!" I yelled, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath, my next words softer. "I know. I'm not afraid of you. I've never been afraid of you. What I mean is that you're not just a college kid anymore who can throw punches whenever he wants. You're my husband. I love that I feel safe with you no matter where we go. I love that you would protect me no matter what. You'd never let anything happen to me. But I need you to keep your head down. Don't you remember? We've had this conversation. Just because you can doesn't mean you should."
He reached out to me, the memory making a small smile appear on his worried face. "C'mere."
When I didn't give in immediately, he became nervous. "What do you need from me, Pidge?"
"I need," I winced. "I need you to grow up, Travis. You don't have to be the biggest badass in town anymore. You don't have anything to prove. It takes more strength to show restraint."
He looked down, breathing out like the air had been knocked out of him. "He insulted you." He looked up at me. "He insulted my wife. I've beaten somebody's ass for less."
"That was before," I said, crawling into bed next to him. I cupped his jaw, meeting his gaze. "Before the wedding. Before, when you traded punches for a living and had a reputation to uphold. Before the fire. Everything is different now. We have to
be careful."
He thought about my words as he pulled my hands away from his face, bringing my ring finger up to his lips. "I can be careful." He kissed down my palm to my wrist, and then up my arm, a mischievous grin turning up the corners of his mouth.
I suppressed a grin. "This isn't funny."
"No, it's not," he said, focused.
I was only covered in a black flowing tank top and matching pajama shorts. As he worked his way up to my shoulder, he noticed the strap. He pinched the bottom hem of my top, and with one hand and one motion, my torso was bare. He moved his mouth slowly and tenderly down my chest and stomach, pausing just long enough in all my favorite places to make my insides ache. I relaxed against the mattress and closed my eyes. He was worshipping my body. I was his religion.
"This doesn't change anything," I breathed.
"I know," he said, his voice muffled as he situated himself between my thighs. "But you're mad. And you know what it does to me when you're mad."
He swept the thin fabric of my shorts aside, and buried his face against my tender skin. I gasped, arching my back. "Oh, I'm mad," I said between breaths. "Pissed." My knuckles turned white as my entire body responded to every flick of Travis's tongue. "Furious." He reached beneath me, yanked down my shorts, and then returned to the apex of my thighs as if he'd been starving for me all day. My knees involuntarily quivered, and I moaned his name along with a few inappropriate religious references.
He kissed my thighs and then my stomach, gazing up at me with a proud smirk. He barely gave me a chance to recover before he was crawling up my body and sinking himself inside of me. Those were the times I was glad that he was unable to restrain himself. I'd only had a few glimpses of what Travis had been like with other women, but with me, he didn't hold back. He'd let me peel away every layer, to see every weakness--and I was one of them. He'd been waiting for me to come along, and once I'd arrived, our lives began. There was no before or after. Travis knew from the beginning that we had always been, and we would always be. That truth was in his eyes every time he looked at me; in the way he was gazing at me in that moment as he hovered just inches from my face.
"Baby," he breathed. He looked at me in awe, the exact expression that was on his face the first time he made love to me (and every time after), as if he was still surprised at how perfect and amazing I felt.
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