“A what?”
“A twitch. Your eyes keep wiggling around.” He laughed again when I glared at him. “Those are some amazing eyes though,” he said, leaning just inches from my face. “What color is that, anyway? Grey?”
I looked down to my plate, letting the long strands of my caramel hair create a curtain between us. I didn’t like the way it made me feel when he was so close. I didn’t want to be like the other scores of girls at Eastern that blushed in his presence. I didn’t want him to affect me in that way at all.
“Don’t even think about it, Travis. She’s like my sister,” America warned.
“Baby,” Shepley said. “You just told him no. He’s never gonna stop, now.”
“You’re not her type,” she hedged.
Travis feigned insult. “I’m everyone’s type!”
I peeked over at him and smiled.
“Ah! A smile. I’m not a rotten bastard after all,” he winked. “It was nice to meet you, Pidge.” He walked around the table and leaned into America’s ear.
Shepley threw a french fry at his cousin. “Get your lips outta my girl’s ear, Trav!”
“Networking! I’m networking!” Travis walked out with his hands up in an innocent gesture.
A few more girls followed behind him, giggling and running their fingers through their hair to get his attention. He opened the door for them, and they nearly squealed in delight.
America laughed. “Oh, no. You’re in trouble, Abby.”
“What did he say?” I asked, wary.
“He wants you to bring her to the apartment, doesn’t he?” Shepley said. America nodded and he shook his head. “You’re a smart girl, Abby. I’m telling you now, if you fall for his shit and then end up getting mad at him, you can’t take it out on me and America, all right?”
I smiled. “I won’t fall for it, Shep. Do I look like one of the Barbie twins to you?”
“She won’t fall for it,” America assured him, touching his arm.
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Mare. Do you know how many times he’s screwed things up for me because he one-nights the best friend? All of a sudden it’s a conflict of interest to date me because it’s fraternizing with the enemy! I’m tellin’ ya, Abby,” he looked at me, “don’t tell Mare she can’t come over or date me because you fall for Trav’s line of BS. Consider yourself warned.”
“Unnecessary, but appreciated,” I said. I tried to assure Shepley with a smile, but his pessimism was driven by years of being burned by Travis’ endeavors.
America waved, leaving with Shepley as I walked to my afternoon class. I squinted one eye from the bright sun, gripping my backpack straps. Eastern was exactly what I hoped it would be; from the smaller classrooms to the unfamiliar faces. It was a new start for me; I could finally walk somewhere without the whispers of those who knew—or thought they knew—anything about my past. I was as indistinguishable as any other wide-eyed, over-achieving freshman on their way to class; no staring, no rumors, no pity or judgment. Only the illusion of what I wanted them to see: Cashmered, no-nonsense Abby Abernathy.
I sat my backpack on the floor, and collapsed into the chair, bending down to fish my laptop from my bag. When I popped up to set it on my desk, Travis fell into the next desk.
“Good. You can take notes for me,” he said. He chewed on a pen and smiled, undoubtedly his most charming.
I shot a disgusted look at him. “You’re not even in this class.”
“The hell if I’m not. I usually sit up there,” he said, nodding to the top row. A small group of girls were staring at me, and I noticed an empty chair in the center.
“I’m not taking notes for you,” I said, booting up my computer.
Travis leaned so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “I’m sorry…did I offend you in some way?”
I sighed and shook my head.
“Then what is your problem?”