“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?”