The sweaters I’ve tried and tossed on my bed are piled higher than Mount Everest. Nothing in my wardrobe looks appropriate for a college party. Travis’s friends are older and more experienced in those important life skills where I am majorly lacking.
Like sex, for example.
Drinking alcohol.
Followed closely by smoking, both legal and illegal substances.
But, I’m an athlete. My body’s a finely tuned machine. At least, that’s my go-to excuse.
Travis arrives exactly at seven and I hear him talking to Gran in the foyer. I take stock of what’s left in my closet and quickly settle on low boots, jeans and a black sweater, (a different black sweater from last night, with a slightly lower neckline).
After circling my room three times to make sure the boots won’t blister my heels by the end of the night, I clunk down to the foyer, breaking up their discussion of local real estate or something equally un-fascinating.
“Don’t forget, my granddaughter has a midnight curfew, Travis,” Gran says, her expression stern.
“Yes, Mrs. Davis. I’ll have her home on time,” he responds as I grab my jacket from the coat closet.
Before we drive off, Travis leans across the front of the truck and kisses me. He tastes like the spearmint gum he stows in the cup holder between the front seats.
“Becca,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. He pauses dramatically, staring into my eyes. “What … do you want for dinner?”
I laugh and push him away. “I thought you had a plan.”
“How does a burger sound?”
“Yum. French fries, too?”
He jams his key in the ignition. “You’re not a cheap date, are you? Only the best for Becca Thornton.”
We drive to the Lyrical Grande Diner at the edge of town and slide into a booth in the back of the restaurant, although that’s really a loose definition of the redwood farmhouse converted into an eatery. Gold foil decorations shaped like music notes hang from the ceiling and mini lava-lamps glow on top of the wooden tables to liven up the atmosphere. Eventually, a waitress passes by and dumps menus on our table.
We order two well-done burgers, two Cokes, and a heaping plate of curly fries. Even though the place is far from crowded, the kitchen takes its time cooking up our meal. But I’m holding hands with Travis, so food is only an afterthought.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he says. The bouncing light of the lava lamp flickers in his eyes.
“You know all the important stuff.”
“But not everything.”
“Everything is boring.” Because I never talk about how upset I get when my parents leave Avery and me for months at a time. And Travis never talks about how sick his mom was before she died. We know enough about each other’s pasts to avoid the hard topics that someone who didn’t know better would inadvertently stumble on in a casual question.
So, I stick to lighter conversation and fill him in on school gossip and soccer playoffs. When I talk about everyday things, words fly out of my mouth. Somewhere in the midst of my verbal flood, the waitress delivers our food. I’m too busy gabbing to eat, a great way to control calories for those of us who can’t manage to shut up.
“Ready to go?” Travis breaks into my monologue.
I’ve barely eaten my burger. My fries are cold. But, as nice as it would be hide out in this diner with Travis until midnight, I can’t delay the inevitable. Not if I want to be with Travis in the way I’ve always wanted to be with him.
“Now or never, I guess,” I say, swallowing hard, hoping the small bites of food sitting in my stomach stay down for the rest of the night.
Chapter Ten
We cruise through town, navigating narrow cobblestone streets as Travis fills me in on college life. He likes his roommate, but they don’t spend a lot of time together. Most days, he studies and works. He tries to work out in the gym before class. And college cafeteria food is nasty.
“I found out why everyone gains weight in college. They soak everything in grease just to get us to eat.”
“Can you sleep in a noisy dorm? How do you sit through two-hour classes? Were you really homesick?” I trip over my questions by asking more questions, not bothering to wait for answers.
We turn into a neighborhood of small brick homes with only an arm’s length of space between them. The nine o’clock regional rail whistles as it pulls into the train station, two blocks away. When I pause in the middle of a sentence to take a much-needed breath, Travis reaches for my hand.
“Nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “Meeting your friends … they always seemed so much cooler than me when I was a sophomore and you were a senior. Last night, Paige had no idea who I was.”
“She knew exactly who you were,” Travis says. “She was trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Does she still like you?”
“We were never serious.”
“Will you visit her at college?”
“No.”
“Why not? She seems fun.”
“Depends on your definition of fun.” He punches a button on the dashboard, killing off a sad Bruno Mars, crooning his heart out.
We circle Paige’s crowded block, on the hunt for parking. Travis decides to ditch the truck in the lot near the train station.
“Leave your coat here. It’s a bad idea to go home smelling like beer.”
Light rain begins to fall as we hurry through the chilly night, drawn toward the sound of rock music. At Paige’s house, we let ourselves in through the mudroom. My boots slide on a mixture of beer and mud coating the tile and Travis grabs my hand to keep me steady. A keg sits in the corner of the room, surrounded by towers of red plastic cups.
Travis pumps the keg and hands me a drink.
“Just hold it if you don’t want it,” he says. “Too many questions otherwise.” We press through walls of people double fisting beers and dancing. Fractured conversations rise and fall over the heavy beat. Chants break out, encouraging the slow drinkers to chug. I lower my arm, hiding my full cup. A puff of second-hand smoke clouds around my face and launches me into a coughing fit. Travis’s friend Josh laughs hysterically.
“Trav, your girl isn’t used to our atmosphere. Take her home and play some chess,” he says. I grip my cup hard enough to dent the plastic. Will partied a lot when we together, but he also understood the demands of playing a varsity sport. He never bothered me about drinking when I hung out in his basement, talking to Melinda and Val. But that doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little alcohol. Key word being little.
I raise my cup and take a swig. “First of all, Josh-u-a, I hate chess.”
“Hey, take it easy there, soccer girl,” Josh says, laying his hand on my shoulder. His dark eyes narrow as he watches me try to gulp down the bitter, cheap beer without puking. “Trav, go tap the keg and leave her with me.”
Travis strong-arms his way between Josh and me. “No way.”
“Aw, chill. You really think I’m going to hit on her?” Josh asks, laughing. “Dude, you need a refill.”
Travis flips his gaze to me. “Okay?”
I widen my smile. “Perfectly fine.”
“Stay with Josh.” Travis throws his friend a warning glare before turning into the crowd, which parts like the Red Sea and then zips shut behind him.
“So, the coward finally worked up the guts to ask you out, huh?” Josh asks.
I pour more beer down my throat. “What do you mean? Was he afraid of me?”
Josh takes a drag on his cigarette and hands me his full cup. “You’re running low.”
I take a sip and hand the drink back to him.
“Travis doesn’t talk about girls much,” Josh says. “But I thought he was going to annihilate your old boyfriend—that Will guy—when he started shooting off his mouth about you at the Mud Bowl.”
“Will and I broke up—” I begin to explain.
“Sure you did,” Josh agrees, passing me the
cup again. I oblige him with another swig. “How long’s everything been going on with you and Trav?”
I count back the weeks in my head. “My car broke down a few months ago. Travis drove me home.”
“So you felt like you owed him a chance, huh?” Josh nods toward his cup, still in my hand. “Finish it.”
I take a huge gulp. Travis won’t mind. Josh smiles broadly, like we’re sharing some big secret. I start to giggle uncontrollably. I’m just about doubled over when Travis tugs my sleeve. Quickly, I shove Josh’s drink back into his hand.
“Back so soon, friend?” Josh blows out a steady stream of smoke and I stifle my cough.
“Later, Josh,” Travis answers. Taking my hand, he leads me away. We wind up in a dark corner, where I throw my arms around his neck and lose myself in his eyes, so blue and perfectly clear. He’s had more to drink than me, but I’m the one who needs the wall to keep me upright.
“So, I’m assuming you’re a lightweight.”
His hands slide around my waist, keeping me steady.
“One beer and I’m done,” I agree. “There you go. Something you didn’t know about me.” I slow the cadence of my words, attempting to cover up the effects of the alcohol. Travis laughs and kisses me. I taste and smell beer, an intoxicating combination in my semi-buzzed state.
“What did Josh say to you?” he asks.
“He said you started something with Will, which I already knew. Oh, and I think he called you a coward.”
“Because the jerk-face knew I wasn’t close enough to hear him.”
The beer suddenly decides to hit me harder, and thinking becomes too much of an effort. I skim my hands under the loose material of Travis’s s thermal shirt, wanting to feel the heat of his skin.
“Good idea. But, maybe not here,” he says in a low voice.
I nod, and drop my hands to my sides. The fire in his eyes tells me that he wishes we were anywhere but in this crowded room.
He glances around the room. “Let’s find Paige. I don’t need her texting me, asking why I didn’t show up.”
In the kitchen, Paige is surrounded by a group of girls wearing tight jeans and sleeveless tops. Next to them, I look like a Thanksgiving pilgrim with my wool sweater sticking to my sweaty skin.
“Hey, Travis,” the girls call in unison.
He smiles, checks out my eye-rolling response and says, “You all know Becca, right?”
One tall girl with stick straight black hair seems more than vaguely familiar. She wasn’t on the soccer or basketball team at Harmony High. Flipping her long bangs away from her face, she bores into me with her dark eyes. I remember her name—Chelsea.
The girls ask what’s new at school (I tell them not much) and we play the game of who knows who. Everyone participates except the sulky raven-haired Chelsea, who leans against the counter, puffing on a cigarette.
After we blow through the basics, Travis and I head for the closest exit. The girls all holler goodbye, laughing among themselves.
Outside, the rain has stopped. High above, the full moon hangs in the middle of a glimmering sky, streaked with stars.
I throw my head back. “Look up, Travis. It’s such a beautiful night.”
Travis drags me along. “Too cold. You’re not wearing a coat.”
“Really? I don’t feel cold.”
“We both know the reason for that. Trust me. It’s damn cold.”
“I wish we were in the treehouse. Under a blanket or something.” I push a twisting curl out of my eyes. Between wobbly steps, I pause. “Look at the red one – it’s moving.”
He chokes back a laugh. “That’s a satellite. How are you still walking?” He picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder. I beat my fist against his back, laughing so hard I temporarily lose track of my breath in the process.
“The party was kind of fun,” I confess, when we make it back to his truck. I’m more willing to reveal my true feelings after fueling up with alcohol. “Why does Chelsea hate me?”
Travis sighs. “Because she’s Chelsea.” He gently drops me in the front seat and clicks my seatbelt into place. “If she wants to be my friend, she’ll be nice to you.”
***
Both of our houses are dark when Travis pulls into the driveway. I reach for my jacket, but Travis grabs my hand.
“Sit here for a minute. I need to make sure you can walk past your grandmother without being completely obvious.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, resting my head back against the seat and squeezing my eyes shut, hoping to stop the world from spinning. After a minute, I crack one eye open. “Will I be somewhat obvious?”
Travis narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me carefully. “I don’t think we can completely avoid suspicion. Feel free to throw blame my way.”
“No.” I shake my head, determined. His face blurs, like I’m gazing at him underwater. “I’m owning my behavior tonight.”
“And if your Gran decides to blame me anyway, try to remind her that I brought you home on time and in one piece.”
I scoot closer to him, laying my head against his chest. “Will you stop by and say goodbye before you go back to school?”
He plays with one of my loose curls, twisting it between his fingers. “I’m leaving early. I need to be at work by noon.”
“Okay,” I said. Tears well in my eyes. I don’t understand why. It’s just Travis.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Do you feel sick?”
I laugh. “No, but I miss you already. I hate not talking to you. What if you forget me when you go back to college?”
He touches my shoulder, pressing lightly until I lift my eyes to his. “Becca, I never forget about you. You’re part of my home, so maybe missing you is my form of homesickness.”
I nod. “Life’s not the same when you’re gone. I guess I always counted on you to be here.”
He holds me tighter. “We can fix the not-talking problem. I have your number, so can I call you? You can tell me about school, soccer, and how much Avery’s annoying you.”
I wipe a stray tear from my cheek. “Okay, and you can tell me more about college. And I can let you know how your dad’s doing. But you must talk to him, too.”
“Sometimes. With finals coming up, I’ll be busy. It’s good to know you’re looking out for him.”
“I had a great weekend with you,” I whisper, breathing in the faint scent of his soap and shampoo. Also, the beer smell seems to be clinging to both of us.
He kisses me for a long time, and even when I think we’re finished, his mouth lingers on mine. “Are you sure you still want in on the kissing deal? I’ll be gone for almost a month.”
I pull away, my eyes growing wide. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t exactly have a ton of guys asking to kiss me.”
“Becca, believe me, the vultures are circling. You just don’t bother looking up.”
“That’s ridiculous. But, to answer your question, I have no desire to call off the deal. I’m sticking to it and so are you.” I poke his chest, maybe a little bit too hard.
He sucks in a fake groan of pain. “After this weekend, I may need a month to recover.”
I make Travis swear he’ll stop by in the morning, no matter how early he leaves. Then I sneak in the back door, hoping to find Gran asleep in her recliner. I just need to tiptoe over to the stairs before she wakes up again.
“You smell like a bar. Throw your clothes in the wash.”
No such luck. She’s fully alert, eyeing me like a hungry hawk.
I bow my head. “Yes, Gran.”
“Did you have a nice night?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re happy with Travis?”
“Yes.”
She sighs. “I was thinking, if you had to be out getting into trouble with someone, then I’m glad it’s him.”
Rather than incriminate myself, I remain silent. But I feel as though she’s waiting for some sort of a response. “Uh, me too, Gran.”
I turn
away, aiming to high-tail it up to my bedroom, but I miss the first step and wipe out on the hardwood floor with a sickening thud.
“I expect you’ll be sleeping in tomorrow,” Gran says.
Chapter Eleven
Saying my head hurts is the understatement of the century. Just the sound of my bedroom door opening, followed by Avery leaping on the bed, sets off fireworks inside my skull.
I bat her away and moan.
She shakes me hard. “Travis knocked on the door and I told him you were sleeping. He said he’d stop back in ten minutes, but then he has to leave. Hurry, before Gran starts asking questions.”
I toss off the blanket and drag myself down the steps, tripping over the ripped hem of my pajama pants. Cigarette smell lingers in my freak show hair.
“And how are you feeling today?” Gran’s mouth twitches as she hands me a mug filled with steaming tea before disappearing into the pantry. I take a sip and my stomach revolts. The hot liquid bubbles back up my throat just as the kitchen door creaks open and shut.
“Rough night?” Travis watches me sputter and cough.
I press the tips of my fingers into my temples. “You’re so loud.”
He sinks in the chair across from mine and stretches out his long legs. “Take two aspirin. And drink water. You’re probably dehydrated.”
“Thank you, future doctor. That’s the best advice you have?”
He gives me a small smile. “I didn’t take a class on hangover remedies this semester.”
Travis’s eyes drift to the clock on the wall. I’m wasting our last minutes together. I need to stop whining. “I’ll miss you,” I say, surprising myself at how easily the words slip out.
“When I come home, I’ll bring you a present,” he says. “I’m thinking ice cream. Avery says that’s all I need to make you happy.”
I can’t reconcile the seriousness in his cool blue eyes with the lighter tone of his words. Part of me has known Travis forever. And part of me is still learning everything about him.
***
My Clueless Broken Heart (School Dayz Book 3) Page 6
