The Outlaw

01

O N E

"When did you get this?" Travis asked, his fingers lightly stroking over the tattoo I had on my back right before I slipped on my T-shirt. Placed following along the underside of my bust, the tattoo was the last three heartbeats of my fathers.

Sitting on Travis' bed, I twisted to look over my shoulder. Scanning him with pure female appreciation, my gaze slid avidly over his shirtless body baring his defined torso. His face was satisfyingly sated and I found it hard not to smirk triumphantly.

My lips thinned stubbornly. "No questions, remember?" I reminded him.

He sat up, leaning against the headboard. He paused, his tantalizing green eyes narrowing slightly before he nodded reluctantly.

If you asked me what I knew about Travis Ortiz, all I could tell you was his name. A year older than me, Travis attended the same college I did. I made sure that our knowledge of each other didn't go further than that—my intention from the beginning.

Glancing away, I grabbed my shorts and slipped them on. I stood up, shoving my feet into my sandals. "I'll call you." I said to Travis.

"No," he replied firmly, "you won't." I turned to face him, watching him shove a hand through his dark hair.

No, I wouldn't, I thought. I never did. Ever since I met Travis nearly a month ago, whenever one of us reached out, it was always Travis. "It's okay to need me too, Maddie. This was your idea."

Ignoring that, I snatched my purse from his dresser. "I should go."

"Do you need money for a cab?"

I shook my head. "I drove here."

He plucked out two twenty dollar bills from the pocket of his jeans on the floor. "Fine," he thrust it to me. "Gas money, then,"

I grimaced, shoulders creeping to my ears. "God, Trav, don't cheapen this more than it already is." It was bad enough that I was using an almost stranger for sex; I didn't need to be paid for it too.

"Hey," he dropped his hand, frowning. "I wasn't trying to. And this isn't cheap at all, okay? We're just two people having fun. No strings attached. Don't blow this out of context."

I told that myself too—it didn't make me feel any better. And yet I showed up here an hour ago for the very same thing. I wonder what that said about me.

Slipping out of the bed, Travis stood over me in his six-foot height stark naked. I tried to refrain from my eyes travelling down south. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just—I'm always the one calling you to come to my apartment. I feel as if I'm not making a big enough effort."

I shook my head as I made my way to the door. "Trust me," I threw over my shoulder with a slight smirk, "we're even."

I first met Travis at a bar located five minutes from Purdue, which was frequented by a lot of the students. Growing up in Ontario, Canada, I was a transplant in Indiana. Although I had lived here for only two years, I considered it home. I've never truly felt like I belonged anywhere else. I've struggled to belong anywhere—to a place, to someone.

Maybe that's what struck the deal with Travis-just casual sex, no personal questions. All the obstacles I've been through the twenty years of my life, I'd never committed to anything, much less to a relationship. That was because I had major issues. I was all kinds of fucked up.

And where everyone else called me a strong-willed, independent woman—I, Madeline Wolfe, was truly the biggest coward ever.

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