I paused, recoiling from her sugary tone, and then walked around her. I’d seen her before, talking normally in the commons area of the girls’ dorm, Morgan Hall. Her tone sounded much more mature then, and I wondered what it was about a toddler’s voice she thought Travis would find appealing. She babbled in a higher octave for a bit longer until he was next to me once again.
Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he lit a cigarette and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. “Where was I? Oh yeah…you were thinking.”
I grimaced. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you thought about coming over?”
“If I say yes, will you quit following me?”
He considered my stipulation and then nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll come over.”
“When?”
I sighed. “Tonight. I’ll come over tonight.”
Travis smiled and stopped in his tracks. “Sweet. See you then, Pidge,” he called after me.
I rounded the corner to see America standing with Finch outside our dormitory. The three of us ended up at the same table at freshman orientation, and I knew he would be the welcome third wheel to our well-oiled machine. He wasn’t excessively tall, but still he towered over my five feet four inches. His round eyes offset his long, lean features, and his bleached hair was usually fashioned into a spike at the front.
“Travis Maddox? Jesus, Abby, since when did you start fishing in the deep end?” Finch said with disapproving eyes.
America pulled the gum from her mouth in a long string. “You’re only making it worse by brushing him off. He’s not used to that.”
“What do you suggest I do? Sleep with him?”
America shrugged. “It’ll save time.”
“I told him I’d come over tonight.”
Finch and America traded glances.
“What? He promised to quit bugging me if I said yes. You’re going over there tonight, right?”
“Well, yeah,” America said. “You’re really coming?”
I smiled and walked past them into the dorms, wondering if Travis would make good on his promise not to flirt. He wasn’t hard to figure out; he either saw me as a challenge, or safely unattractive enough to be a good friend. I wasn’t sure which bothered me more.
Four hours later, America knocked on my door to take me to Shepley and Travis’. She didn’t hold back when I walked into the hall.
“Yuck, Abby! You look homeless!”
“Good,” I said, smiling at my ensemble. My hair was piled on top of my head in a messy bun. I had scrubbed the makeup from my face and replaced my contacts with rectangular black-rimmed glasses. Sporting a ratty T-shirt and sweatpants, I shuffled along in a pair of flip flops. The idea had come to me hours before that either way, unattractive was the best plan. Ideally, Travis would be instantly turned off and stop his ridiculous persistence. If he was looking for a buddy, I was aiming for too homely to be seen with.
America rolled down her window and spit out her gum. “You’re so obvious. Why didn’t you just roll in dog shit to make your outfit complete?”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” I said.
“Obviously.”
We pulled into the parking lot of Shepley’s apartment complex, and I followed America to the stairs. Shepley opened the door, laughing as I walked in. “What happened to you?”
“She’s trying to be unimpressive,” America said.
America followed Shepley into his room. The door closed and I stood alone, feeling out of place. I sat in the recliner closest to the door and kicked off my flip-flops.
Their apartment was more aesthetically pleasing than the typical bachelor pad. The predictable posters of half-naked women and stolen street signs were on the walls, but it was clean, the furniture was new, and the smell of stale beer and dirty clothes was notably absent.