Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire Page A

When the song was over, we joined the boys at the bar. An excessively voluptuous platinum blonde was already at Travis’s side, and America’s face screwed into revulsion.
    â€œIt’s going to be like this all night, Mare. Just ignore them,” Shepley said, nodding to a small group of girls standing a few feet away. They eyed the blonde, waiting for their turn.
    â€œIt looks like Vegas threw up on a flock of vultures,” America sneered.
    Travis lit a cigarette as he ordered two more beers, and the blonde bit her puffy, glossed lip and smiled. The bartender popped the tops open and slid the bottles to Travis. The blonde picked up one of the beers, but Travis pulled it from her hand.
    â€œUh…not yours,” he said to her, handing it to me.
    My initial thought was to toss the bottle in the trash, but the woman looked so offended, I smiled and took a drink. She walked off in a huff, and I chuckled that Travis didn’t seem to notice.
    â€œLike I would buy a beer for some chick at a bar,” he said, shaking his head. I held up my beer, and he pulled up one side of his mouth into a half smile. “You’re different.”
    I clinked my bottle against his. “To being the only girl a guy with no standards doesn’t want to sleep with.” I said, taking a swig.
    â€œAre you serious?” he asked, pulling the bottle from my mouth. When I didn’t recant, he leaned toward me. “First of all … I have standards. I’ve never been with an ugly woman. Ever. Second of all, I wanted to sleep with you. I thought about throwing you over my couch fifty different ways, but I haven’t because I don’t see you that way anymore. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I just think you’re better than that.”
    I couldn’t hold back the smug smile that crept across my face. “You think I’m too good for you.”
    He sneered at my second insult. “I can’t think of a single guy I know that’s good enough for you.”
    The smugness melted away, replaced with a touched, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Trav,” I said, setting my empty bottle on the bar.
    Travis pulled on my hand. “C’mon,” he said, tugging me through the crowd to the dance floor.
    â€œI’ve had a lot to drink! I’m going to fall!”
    Travis smiled and pulled me to him, grabbing my hips. “Shut up and dance.”
    America and Shepley appeared beside us. Shepley moved like he’d been watching too many Usher videos. Travis had me near panic with the way he pressed against me. If he used any of those moves on the couch, I could see why so many girls chanced humiliation in the morning.
    He cinched his hands around my hips, and I noticed that his expression was different, almost serious. I ran my hands over his flawless chest and six-pack as they stretched and tensed under his tight shirt to the music. I turned my back to him, smiling when he wrapped his arms around my waist. Coupledwith the alcohol in my system, when he pulled my body against his, things came to mind that were anything but friendly.
    The next song bled into the one we were dancing to, and Travis showed no signs of wanting to return to the bar. The sweat beaded on the back of my neck, and the multicolored strobe lights made me feel a bit dizzy. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder. He grabbed my hands and pulled them up and around his neck. His hands ran down my arms and down my ribs, finally returning to my hips. When I felt his lips and then his tongue against my neck, I pulled away from him.
    He chuckled, looking a bit surprised. “What, Pidge?”
    My temper flared, making the sharp words I wanted to say stick in my throat. I retreated to the bar and ordered another Corona. Travis took the stool beside me, holding up his finger to order one for himself. As soon as the bartender set the bottle in front of me, I tipped it up and drank