Walking Disaster

appalled at my behavior, but it did. “You’ll have sex with her, but
you won’t take her number?”
    “Why would I want her number if I’m not going to call her?”
    “Why would you sleep with her if you’re not going to call her?”
    “I don’t promise anyone anything, Pidge. She didn’t stipulate a relationship before she spread-eagled on my couch.”
    She stared at the couch with revulsion. “She’s someone’s daughter, Travis. What if, down the line, someone treats
your
daughter like that?”
    The thought had crossed my mind, and I was prepared. “My daughter better not drop her panties for some jackass she just met, let’s put it that way.”
    That was the truth. Did women deserve to be treated like sluts? No. Did sluts deserve to be treated like sluts? Yes. I was a slut. The first time I bagged Megan and she left without so much as a
cuddle, I didn’t cry about it and eat a gallon of ice cream. I didn’t complain to my frat brothers that I put out on the first date and Megan treated me according to the way I behaved.
It is what it is, no sense in pretending to protect your dignity if you set out to destroy it. Girls are notorious for judging each other, anyway, only taking a break long enough to judge a guy for
doing it. I’d hear them label a classmate a whore before the thought ever crossed my mind. However, if I took that whore home, bagged her, and released her strings-free, I was suddenly the
bad guy. Nonsense.
    Abby crossed her arms, noticeably unable to argue, and that made her even angrier. “So, besides admitting that you’re a jackass, you’re saying that because she slept with you,
she deserved to be tossed out like a stray cat?”
    “I’m saying that I was honest with her. She’s an adult, it was consensual . . . she was a little too eager about it, if you want to know the truth. You act like I committed a
crime.”
    “She didn’t seem as clear about your intentions, Travis.”
    “Women usually justify their actions with whatever they make up in their heads. She didn’t tell me up front that she expected a relationship any more than I told her I expected sex
with no strings. How is it any different?”
    “You’re a pig.”
    I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” Regardless of my indifference, to hear her say that felt about as good as her shoving a two-by-four under my thumb nail. Even if it was
true.
    She stared at the couch, and then recoiled. “I guess I’m sleeping on the recliner.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not sleeping on that thing! God knows what I’d be lying in!”
    I lifted her duffel bag off the floor. “You’re not sleeping on the couch or the recliner. You’re sleeping in my bed.”
    “Which is more unsanitary than the couch, I’m sure.”
    “There’s never been anyone in my bed but me.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break!”
    “I’m absolutely serious. I bag ’em on the couch. I don’t let them in my room.”
    “Then why am
I
allowed in your bed?”
    I wanted to tell her. Jesus, did I ever want to mouth the words, but I could barely admit it to myself, much less her. Deep down I knew I was a piece of shit, and she deserved better. Part of me
wanted to carry her to the bedroom and
show
her why she was different, but that was also the one thing that stopped me. She was my opposite: innocent on the surface, and damaged deep
within. There was something about her I needed in my life, and even though I wasn’t sure what it was, I couldn’t give into my bad habits and fuck it up. She was the forgiving type, I
could see, but she had lines drawn that I knew better than to cross.
    A better option popped into my head, and I smirked. “Are you planning on having sex with me tonight?”
    “No!”
    “That’s why. Now get your cranky ass up, take your hot shower, and then we can study some bio.”
    Abby’s eyes stared me down, but she complied. She nearly shoved her shoulder into me as she passed, and then slammed the bathroom door. The pipes under the apartment immediately whined in
response to her turning on the water.
    She packed light: only the essentials. I found some shorts and a T-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties with purple stripes. I held them up in front of me, and then dug a little further.
They were all cotton. She really didn’t plan to get naked with me, or even to tease. A little disappointing, but at the same time it made me like her even more. I wondered if she had any
thongs at all.
    Was she a