by D. C. Renee
When Travis got up to use the restroom, I was a little lost in my thoughts when I heard Brent call out my name.
“Huh?”
“Where’d you go?”
“Sorry, was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing in particular,” I responded and caught him doing the stare.
“Oh, stop with that weird stare-y thingy. I’m back and I’m listening.”
“What stare thing?”
I proceeded to explain, and he laughed at my x-man comparison. And then he asked what else I had noticed, so I told him all the little things I knew about him. He listened and then he seemed as though he was deep in thought before he finally said, “Huh.”
I looked at him in confusion.
“It’s just that no one’s ever noticed these things about me,” he spoke softly, still staring, making sure he had my attention.
His voice was low as if that admission made him vulnerable. And for a moment, I imagined him saying, “And that’s why I care about you as more than a friend.” And that was when I realized I was starting to care for Brent. Damn, stupid bet. I wasn’t being paranoid about the previous night; I was just aiming my panicking in the wrong direction. I shouldn’t have been worried about Travis and Brent; I should have been worried about myself. Well, none of that. I was shutting it down, especially since I really and truly liked being friends with him. And especially since nothing could ever happen between us. I was his goofy friend—who happened to be a girl—and nothing more.
I swore I probably looked like a weirdo staring back into his eyes and not saying anything, but then Travis saved us. “You’d think I went to the women’s restroom with the freaking line I had to wait in. When in the hell is there ever a line for the guy’s?”
The moment was broken, and I was back to me. I chanced a glance at Brent, but he looked like he always did, calm and cool. Yep, it was all definitely just me. The rest of the day was fine. We spent it watching half of Pretty in Pink before the guys gave up and then we hung out and watched TV until it was time to go. Yep, I definitely liked having them as friends.
chapter eleven
I woke up early the next day. I had a restless night and didn’t sleep much. Gee, I wonder why. Could it have been because of the extremely vivid threesome dream I had starring none other than Beavis and Butthead. Whoa! Back up there, not the real Beavis and Butthead; my version of them – Travis and Brent. It started off amazingly; that’s ah-mazingly, thank you very much. It was steamy and hot and probably a little too much to share. But two major hotties whose purpose in the dream was to pleasure me and see to my every whim … oh yeah, it was awesome. But, apparently, I am a freak even in my dreams. Because, suddenly, the two sexy guys turned into some weird lion/bear hybrid animals that decided to pee in a circle around me to mark their territory, and I was still freaking naked.
Since I was up so early, I decided I was going to be good and attempt to exercise again. No more gym for me, though. I went for a run, which quickly turned into a jog, which quickly turned into a power walk, all within the first half mile. I tried, and I failed, but at least I tried. Surprisingly, my power walk wasn’t doing all that much to clear my head. It could have been because I was listening to Selena Gomez’s Slow Down on repeat. Yes, I was secretly a twelve-year-old with a girl crush on Selena, so sue me. It was that song about bumping and grinding all night long, on the dance floor, of course, because there could be no possible sexual innuendos in such a song. The shame! Well, in my version, there was no dance floor, and I was reliving the first part of my dream. Which was why I screamed like a banshee when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned, fist raised – mama didn’t raise no fool, I was not about to let some asshole kidnap me while I was singing and walking to the tune of my darling Selena. And there was Travis, laughing his ass off and motioning for me to remove my headphones.
“Damn, girl. Lower your fist and your voice. I think you woke up all the sleeping co-eds.”
“Well, who the hell sneaks up on an unsuspecting innocent girl?” I snapped back.
“You? Innocent? Oh, please. And I didn’t sneak up on you. I called your name at least a dozen times, but you didn’t hear me.”
“What are you doing out here? Are you following me?” I asked. Why Travis would follow me was beyond me.
“Uh, I run around here,” he answered with furrowed eyebrows.
“Here?”
“Well, yeah, this is a known area for runners, hence all the other people trying to bypass your slow ass, although, what a mighty fine ass it is. It was especially nice watching you sway your hips to the tune of whatever you were listening to.”
“Oh, you. One of these days, you’re going to get bored of flirting with me.”
“Never. You are way too fun riled up.”
“So, why do you run here? Don’t you train at the gym?”
“Yeah, and I run there too, but I like to be outside sometimes. It’s a more pleasant view than when I’m on the treadmill.”
“Travis enjoying the outdoors in solitude away from your adoring fans. Who knew? Surprise, surprise.” I laughed.
“I’m the surprise? How about you running, correction, walking here being a surprise.” He chuckled back.
“I was trying it out. You know, since I won’t go back to the gym after my epic fail.”
Travis smirked, definitely remembering the first time we met.
“Yeah, that was pretty awesome. But why don’t you join me? I’ll show you what to do, and no one will touch you if you’re with me.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Did you just say ‘nah’?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.
“What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”
“Then come work out with me at the gym. I’ll help you.”
“Maybe. How about I start off with walking, and maybe attempting to jog, a bit more around here for a few more days?”
“All right, fine, then I’ll join you.”
“But you run,” I stated the obvious.
“So, I’ll walk for a few days.” He shrugged. And then he walked with me.
We walked in silence for a while, but surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward. It was actually nice to enjoy the trees, the low buzz of insects, and Travis right beside me. He still had a light sheen of perspiration from running before slowing down to join me, and it glistened in the low hanging sun. I might have snuck a few glances at him, and it was well worth it. He looked great.
“So, what were you listening to?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I was debating whether to lie and say something like Pink Floyd to earn his respect and, yes, I knew who Pink Floyd was. I happened to like a very wide variety of music. But I decided to go with the truth, “Promise not to laugh.”
He eyed me as if I was asking him to jump off a cliff. “No can do.”
“Why do I bother? Fine, whatever. I was listening to Selena Gomez.”
“Is she that hot little number who was stupid enough to date Beaver or whatever his name is?”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Not my cup of tea, but whatever floats your boat.” He didn’t laugh. Color me speechless; he didn’t laugh.
“It’s an upbeat song with a great rhythm, and it pumped me up. Well, it should have pumped me up. But I may have forgotten something when I started running.”
“What did you forget?”
“That I hate running.”
Travis chuckled, and I found it endearing. It was nicer than him laughing at me, even though I kind of liked that, too.
“What about you? You listen to anything when you run?” I asked, noticing he didn’t have an iPod with him.
“Nope. This is my time to just kind of get away from everything. I don’t have to worry about training, about school, or even about my next hookup. It’s just me. I don’t really like anything crowding out the space and solit
ude.” My mouth dropped. Never had I imagined Travis saying something so deep. Well, it wasn’t the deepest thing I’ve ever heard, but it was deep for him. And I appreciated it. But then it hit me, and I stopped walking. It took him a moment to realize I wasn’t beside him and then he stopped and turned. “What’s up,” he asked. “Why’d you stop? Are you okay? You didn’t pull anything?” he asked, concern beginning to etch his face. It warmed my heart a bit.
“You’re walking with me.”
“Yeah,” he said, stretching the word out like it was obvious. Yes, him walking with me was obvious, but that wasn’t it.
“Well, yes, no, argh! What I mean is that I interrupted your solitude.”
He just shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I like hanging with you, Kim. You don’t try to change me. Well, aside from the whole bet thing. You’re fun. You don’t expect me to be on top of my game at all times. I can be myself around you. I don’t mind sharing my time with you. In fact, I kind of like it.”
I couldn’t help the wide smile that filled my face. I felt the same way with him. I could be myself. I could be dorky and feisty, a nerd or sexy, and it didn’t matter. I didn’t feel like I really had to pretend. Sure, I got self-conscious; who wouldn’t with my self-esteem? But, overall, I was comfortable with him. After all, here I was, wearing no makeup and walking in comfortable silence with him.
I noticed Travis studying my face with something akin to contentment. And then he broke into a smile as well. It wasn’t his trademark panty-dropping smile. It was his genuine, happy smile. And then I felt it, the little flutters in my stomach. Oh, damn. Oh, just freaking great. I liked Travis! This couldn’t be happening. First Brent, and now Travis. I was in danger of losing my ever-loving mind. No! No! I pushed those thoughts down. The boy just told me how great it was to have me as a friend. I was not about to do anything to jeopardize that.
So I tried to lighten the mood, “Well, it’s very humbling to know that I don’t bother your mind thinking of your next hookup.” I laughed, surprising myself with how sincere my laughter sounded.
He mumbled, but it sounded something like, “You don’t even know.” We started walking again, and the rest of the walk was back to a mix of silence and light banter. Even so, he somehow talked me into promising to work out with him. I would suck, but at least Travis would get a kick out of it. Come to think of it, that was probably why he convinced me to work out with him. More chances for laughter.
chapter twelve
Brent had offered to help me when Travis had class. I wasn’t entirely sure that Brent helping me was a good idea. He was probably trying to sabotage our chances of winning. Travis and I had decided that the easiest thing to do was to find girls named Abby and try our hand at them. So Brent and I were searching for all girls named Abby, Abbi, and Abigail on campus. And thanks to social media, it wasn’t hard at all to find a giant list and even seeing if they would fit the bill. There were some atrocities. I mean, call me crazy, but I think skirts and shorts should cover your hoo-ha. Otherwise, why wear them? Anyone wanting that kind of attention online was out. Then there were those who thought wearing clothes two sizes too big or two sizes too small was the way to go. Didn’t they have people who cared enough about them to tell them otherwise? And then there were the artsy folks. Not saying that being creative was bad, but when your favorite quote had something to do with death feeling like love, well then, maybe “artsy” wasn’t the right term anymore.
“Oh, God, Kim, look at this one.” Brent laughed, pointing to the screen. Now, I know laughing at unsuspecting people was bad and all, but hey, I was human. And these people shouldn’t post pictures like that of themselves if they didn’t want to be laughed at. The funny part was that we weren’t even laughing at an “Abby.” We were laughing at her boyfriend. Apparently, he’d decided that dressing like a Playboy Bunny was hilarious. Well, it totally was. Tight white leggings on a muscular guy, bunny ears, fuzzy tail, even pink fuzzy nipple rings. Damn. That was awesome in a “you are clearly fine with your masculinity” type of way.
And all our laughing and joking and teasing poor, helpless people somehow ended up with Brent convincing me that we needed to mess with Travis. As I said, clear sabotage. Well, we were going to find the best, and by the best, I meant the worst, girls for Travis. There wasn’t necessarily anything wrong with them, but put any of them with Travis and the results would be classic. So good, we knew we needed to stalk and videotape the interactions.
I was having a ton of fun with Brent, and it was so natural that I didn’t even notice I hadn’t thought about him romantically at all, not once. Well, okay, maybe a few times, but I’d easily squashed my feelings after looking at some of the pictures online. That was until Brent decided he needed to open his big mouth. “So, Kim, do you really think of me as a player?”
I snorted. Yes, shocking and extremely lady-like, but I couldn’t help it.
“What does that mean? You think Travis is a player, and I am nowhere near anything like him.”
“Oh, so you need to bring a new girl home every day in order to be a player? Once a week doesn’t count?”
“Hey,” he answered, seemingly offended. “It’s not once a week and what do you even know about me sleeping around.”
“Oh, come on, Brent. I know what I hear, and I know what I see. Before this whole bet thing, we were friends, right?” That’s the thing, we weren’t truly “friends,” and I knew that, but I knew Brent thought otherwise.
He nodded, just as I expected, so I continued, “And friends hang out, right?” Again, he nodded. “Yeah, so then why didn’t we hang out, huh? We flirted, we studied together, and that was it. I was a girl, a potential piece of ass, and when that didn’t work out for you, everything stayed casual. When I saw you at parties, I bet you didn’t even see me because every time I saw you, you had a different girl hanging on each arm. And let’s pretend all those girls were your friends and nothing more. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that a guy like you doesn’t find a new girl to keep him company whenever the hell he wants.”
“A guy like me?”
“You are good looking, no, scratch that, hot. You’re smart. You’re clean and work out. You’re nice and charming. And you know how to flirt into a girl’s heart. And you’re young and not looking to get serious. And even if you were, who would believe it with the number of girls who throw themselves at you and Trav? Every time I’m with you guys, I get either death stares, envy stares, jealousy stares, and sometimes, I get lust stares. Not sure what’s up with those. Are those girls into me or are they thinking orgy?” The last two sentences were sort of mumbled. I tended to ramble in certain situations if you hadn’t noticed.
“Okay. First off, I’ve never really had any friends who were girls because they didn’t care enough to stick around and try to get to know me. That’s not my problem. And I didn’t see you trying all that hard to be my friend. This,” he pointed between us, “is all because of me and Trav. And are you telling me that you wouldn’t believe I would be faithful to someone I’m with just because I can get someone else? And yeah, sure, Kim, I’m a guy. Why the hell would I turn down free ass if I’m single? But you know me.” His tone softened as he stared into my eyes. “Do you really think I’m such a dick that I would cheat on a girl if I cared enough about her to be exclusive?”
No, I didn’t think that. I might have at one time, but after getting to know him, there was no way I could think that of him. I couldn’t really speak, so I just shook my head.
“And why would you put yourself down?” he asked; his voice low.
“I didn’t. I mean, huh? When?”
“You implied that all I ever wanted from you was to get you into bed and when that didn’t work out, we became study buddies.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“And you implied you’re not wanted. Why would you ever think that? Don’t you see the way guys look at you? You think you’re the only one who gets stares?”
> “I …” I didn’t have an answer. But really, I did. “Will.” I said it so quietly, I didn’t think Brent heard me, but I felt him tense next to me. And then he took my face in his hands and forced me to look him in the eyes.
“He was an idiot. Anyone who is honored enough to have your care and trust and throw that away doesn’t deserve it. Never doubt that. I don’t. Even Travis doesn’t.” His touch was so tender, so gentle. The sincerity in his voice almost broke me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I was sorry for many things at that moment. I was sorry I stereotyped him and judged him. I was sorry I’d told him my feelings. I was sorry we had a mini argument moments ago. I was sorry he had to be my shoulder to lean on right then. Mostly, I was sorry that I cared about him more than I should. But I didn’t elaborate on all this, and he didn’t ask.
“Don’t be.” My eyes dropped to his lips. He was close, yet not close enough. I wanted to move just a bit closer, but I was frozen; my mind not thinking about the consequences. And then I looked back into his eyes, and he was still looking at my face. I couldn’t read his expression, but I know he caught me staring at his lips. That sobered me up real quick. I pulled away.
“What brought about this conversation anyway?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to think any negative thoughts about me.”
“I don’t,” I stated.
“You did. And I care about you. It was important to me that we cleared any lingering preconceived notions you had about me.”
“I … I’m sorry,” I said again, casting my eyes down. He was my friend, and he was right; I did think of him as heartless when it came to women. It wasn’t fair to him.