âWhatâs up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. Sheâs been raking your name through the mud today.â
âShut up, Jenks,â 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. âKnock it off, Chris.â
Travisâs eyes bored into mine. âI can take care of myself, Abby.â
âIâm sorry, I â¦â
âI donât want you to be sorry. I donât want you to be anything,â he snapped, shoving away from the table and storming out the door.
Finch looked over at me with raised eyebrows. âWhoa. What was that about?â
I stabbed a Tater Tot with my fork and puffed. âI donât know.â
Shepley patted my back. âItâs nothing you did, Abby.â
âHe just has stuff going on,â America added.
âWhat kind of stuff?â I asked.
Shepley shrugged and turned his attention to his plate. âYou should know by now that it takes patience and a forgiving attitude to be friends with Travis. Heâs his own universe.â
I shook my head. âThatâs the Travis everyone else sees ⦠not the Travis I know.â
Shepley leaned forward. âThereâs no difference. You just have to ride the wave.â
After class, I rode with America to the apartment to find Travisâs 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 couldnât believe I didnât see that something had been bothering him. Not only that, it disturbed me that America seemed to know what was going on and I didnât.
My breathing evened out and my eyes grew heavy; it wasnât 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 Travisâs deep tone. I crept down the hall, and then froze when I heard my name.
âAbby gets it, Trav. Donât beat yourself up,â Shepley said.
âYouâre already going to the date party. Whatâs the harm in asking her out?â America asked.
I stiffened, waiting for his response. âI donât want to date her; I just want to be around her. Sheâs ⦠different.â
âDifferent how?â America asked, sounding irritated.
âShe doesnât put up with my bullshit, itâs refreshing. You said it yourself, Mare. Iâm not her type. Itâs just not ⦠like that with us.â
âYouâre closer to her type than you know,â 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 Travisâs bedroom door shut, and then walked down the hall.
âHey, Abby,â America said with a grin. âHow was your nap?â
âI was out for five hours. Thatâs closer to a coma than a nap.â
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 heartpounding in my chest, bracing for him to say something else to crush my ego.
His eyebrows pulled in. âIâm so sorry, Pidge. I was an asshole to you earlier.â
I relaxed a bit, seeing the remorse in his eyes. âI didnât know you were mad at me.â
âI wasnât mad at you. I just have a bad habit of lashing out at those I care about. Itâs a piss-poor excuse, I know, but I am sorry,â he said, enveloping me in his arms.
I nestled my cheek against his chest, settling in. âWhat were you mad about?â
âItâs not important. The only thing Iâm worried about is you.â
I leaned back to look up at him. âI can handle your temper tantrums.â
His eyes scanned my face for several