Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) (25 page)

Kat

By the time I knock on Scarlett’s door, I’ve worked myself up so much I don’t know how there isn’t steam coming out of my ears. The nerve of that jerk, acting like the only reason Aaron would ask me out is because he thinks I’m easy. That says more about what Clay thinks of the girls who sleep with his manwhore self than what others think of me.

My knock is much harder than usual, and the door opens slowly to reveal a wide-eyed Annabelle. “Oh,” she says softly, her voice shaking slightly. “It’s just you.” The relief in her voice is noticeable, and I immediately feel like a jerk for frightening her.

“Sorry. I guess it sounded like I was trying to beat the door down, huh?” I look down at my sneakers, embarrassed, and even angrier at Clay for making me act so thoughtless. Annabelle giggles quietly, and the tautness in my spine disappears. I must not have scared her too badly.

“Is Scarlett here?” As much as I like Annabelle, I’m so much closer to Scarlett. Peyton’s my BFF, but now that she has Wyatt, she’s all rainbows and unicorns when it comes to relationships, and right now, I need a reality check.

Annabelle frowns, shaking her head, her eyes still too wide, looking more like an anime character than a real person. “She went to pick up a pizza.” Biting down on her lip, she considers something, then says, “You’re welcome to come in and wait for her. I’m sure there will be enough to share.” She steps aside, gesturing for me to walk in, and I take a seat in Annabelle’s desk chair while she sits on the bed, her back up against the wall like she’s afraid someone will come at her from behind.

We don’t say much while we’re waiting, but it’s not an awkward silence. Annabelle is naturally quiet, and it takes a lot to get her talking. Actually, unless it’s just me, along with Peyton and Scarlett, she clams up, especially if one of the guys is around. She’s only semi-comfortable with Wyatt, and that’s probably because he’s one hundred percent devoted to Peyton.

Only a few minutes go by before the red and black tornado otherwise known as Scarlett bursts into the room, music blasting from her earbuds, a pizza box in her arms. Seeing me in the room doesn’t even slow her down. With a quick smile and a, “hello,” she rushes over to her side of the room to set the pizza down on her desk. She rubs the length of her arm from wrist to elbow, distributing the warmth from the steaming box before rising up on her toes to grab paper plates off the top of the hutch she brought from her desk at home.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, handing me a plate holding a slice of pepperoni, mushroom, and onion pizza before laying another on Annabelle’s mattress.

I concentrate on picking the mushrooms off my piece and piling them on the side of the plate. Ugh, I hate mushrooms. They’re my least favorite vegetable. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Scarlett grab herself a plate, then sit cross-legged on her bed. I don’t know how she sits comfortably like that. Her black pants are wide-legged and baggy, but today, she’s practicing her punk rock look, complete with chains hanging from her pockets and a gray, long-sleeved Henley with a sugar skull design right in the middle of her torso.

She waits patiently for me to answer, and knowing she’ll wait all night, I sigh, uttering one word she’ll completely understand. “Clay.”

One dark brow raises, and she gives me a sardonic look. “Oh jeez. What’d he do this time?”

I try to hide my smile, but I’m unsuccessful, so I don’t even attempt to stop the bark of laughter that comes out of my mouth next. “An easier question would be what hasn’t he done.” Setting my plate of uneaten pizza on Annabelle’s desk, I lean forward and tell Scarlett about the conversation/fight with Clay earlier. The more I say, telling her about how Clay didn’t correct anyone who assumed we’d slept together, and why Aaron asked me out, the wider her mouth drops open. Her eyebrow drops down, and she huffs in annoyance.

“What an
asshole
,” she fumes. “I can’t believe he thought that was okay. He better clear up
that
misunderstanding, or he’s going to find himself on the wrong end of a high heel.” The visual makes me laugh harder. Scarlett is a study in contradiction. Her major is music education, and she never dresses the same way from one day to the next. Today she’s dressed all emo, but tomorrow, she could be wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or a short skirt and revealing shirt. I don’t get the chance to dwell on her weird outfits because the expression on her face changes in a way that makes my pulse speed up. She looks over at me, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth, worry filling her eyes.

I straighten in my seat, not sure I want to know what she’s thinking, but I still ask anyway. “What is it?”

Scarlett looks away, and I follow her gaze to where Annabelle is picking at her food. “Should I tell her?”

“Um, what? Now you
have
to tell me!” I look between the two of them, and I know they’re having some sort of silent conversation. The waiting makes me crazy, and I ask again. “C’mon Scarlett, if it’s something about me, I
need
to know. I don’t want any surprises.”
Oh God
.
What if Clay’s right
? Has she heard something?

She turns, meeting my eyes, her own full of worry. “Kat,” she says gently, “have you noticed anything weird lately?”

Weird
? “Like what?”

Her easy tell is playing with her hair, and I watch as she pulls her hair out of the two braids she’s wearing them in today, running her fingers through them as she thinks. I want to scream at her, to force her to continue, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable saying anything to me, so I wait, even if it’s impatiently. Finally, a resolved look crosses her face, and she slumps slightly, putting her hands in her lap and linking her fingers. She looks down at them instead of at me, and her voice is apologetic when she finally speaks. “There are a couple rumors going around campus … about you and Clay.”

I relax, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I just told you. Clay said he didn’t correct Liam when he said something about us sleeping together. That’s his whole reasoning about why Aaron asked me out.” The
duh
in my voice in implied. “I literally
just
told you that.”

Scarlett shakes her head. “I’m not talking about Clay not correcting dumbass Liam.” She raises sad eyes to mine. “This is
so
much worse. I’m almost certain if Clay heard
these
rumors, he’d beat the shit out of anyone he heard spreading them. And if he didn’t,
Wyatt
definitely would.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to scare me.” I look over at Annabelle, who’s staring intently at her plate of food, not meeting my eyes. My heart is racing, my breath coming in fast pants as I begin to panic. “Just tell me whatever it is.”

Scarlett sighs in resignation, her shoulders slumping further. “Okay, but, just, don’t shoot the messenger.” I know it’s going to be awful before she continues. “I heard a couple of people today talking about how you threw yourself at Clay during that frat party, and he had no choice but to take you home with him.” I stare at her in disbelief.
This
is the rumor she’s so upset about? I start to make a smart aleck remark, but then, she takes a deep breath. “That’s not the worst one, though.”
Oh no
. I can tell by the tone of her voice it’s going to be bad. My hands start to shake, and I try to regulate my breathing. It feels like I’m about to have a panic attack. Scarlett leans forward, grabbing my clammy hands with her own and keeps her eyes locked on me. “You
have
to stay calm, babe. Once you know, we can figure out where to go from here, okay?” I nod, barely hearing her words.

“Just tell me what the rest is.” My voice comes out sounding dead, but breathy. It’s an odd combination.

She clears her throat. “Kay. You know I have your back right?” Not waiting for me to reply, she says, “So, of course, I went up and started setting them straight.
No one
’
s
gonna talk shit about one of my bestie’s and get away with it.” Her vehemence makes me smile. “I told them they were assholes for even spreading rumors, but one of the girls turned to me with a smirk and told me that from what she’d heard, it wasn’t a rumor.
God
. She was so smug! I wanted to punch her in the throat.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I told her she was a damn liar, and she handed me her phone. Kat … there were a bunch of texts about you and Clay. Texts from someone who is clearly delusional. They said such
awful
things—that Clay roofied you, that you screwed him to get back at his brother, to make Max jealous. One even said that you screwed
both
brothers … at the same time.”

I can only look at her in shock. I try to ask who sent them, but my voice just doesn’t work. She gets up quickly and grabs a bottle of water from their mini-fridge, shoving it into my hand and removing the lid for me. Without thought, I choke down large swallows of the cold liquid, but I still have to clear my throat before I can speak. Even then, my voice is gravelly when I ask, still shocked, “They said
what
?” By the last word, I’m shrieking. Scarlett winces at the sound but holds my wide-eyed stare. “First, Clay can be an asshole, but he doesn’t need to
roofie
girls to get laid.” Scarlett and Annabelle both nod in agreement. “And second, I would never have sex with someone to get back at someone else. Gross.” At first, I can’t even find words to describe how much the third rumor freaks me out. In the end, that’s what I say. “As far as the third rumor, just
ew
. That’s so gross. Isn’t sleeping with brothers at the same time some sort of incest?”

Scarlett snickers. “Uh, only if you’re their sister, or they’re having sex with you
and
each other.” Her eyes take on a dreamy look. “Oh man, can you imagine? Those two are so hot alone, but together? They’d melt the sheets.” Annabelle’s crinkled brow and pursed lips probably mirror my own when we look at each other.

“You’re such a perv,” Annabelle tells her, shaking her head.

Sitting up straight, Scarlett points a finger topped with a black-painted nail at her. “Oh, don’t give me that. You forget, Belle. I was there when Peyton showed you that one gif—you couldn’t take your eyes off those twins. Remember? We were hashtagging everything with ‘twincest for the win’ for weeks.”

I watch Annabelle’s face turns bright red before she looks down at her plate. “Whatever,” she mutters, sounding horrified that Scarlett reminded her of something she’d rather forget.

Wanting to take the attention off her, I turn back to Scarlett. “Anyway, what am I going to do? Who were the texts from?”

“I don’t know who the messages were from; the name just said the letter B with a bunch of heart emojis. As far as what you can do, all I can think is to stay away from Clay. If people see that you aren’t together, that nothing is going on, the rumors will die down. Something else is bound to happen on campus for people to gossip about in a few days, so just try to ignore it. I only told you so you’d know what’s being said. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

She frowns, considering, and I quickly reassure her. “No, I’d rather know what’s being said about me behind my back.” A thought occurs to me, and I slump in Annabelle’s desk chair. “Maybe Clay was right, though.”

“What do you mean? When is Clay
ever
right about anything?”

We both laugh. “True, but think about it. He says the only reason Aaron asked me out is because he thinks I’m easy. With these other rumors, it could totally be possible.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth in thought. “Maybe I should just text him right now and cancel.” The thought saddens me. I may not be sure I’m even into Aaron, but having someone ask me out for a change is nice. It makes me feel like someone out there wants me. I just don’t know what I should do. I’d ask my sister, but she’d just tell me to “fuck the haters” and have fun.

Scarlett shrugs. “I don’t think you should just cancel the date.” Her brows furrow, and she stares at the closet just behind me. “Hmm,” she murmurs, getting up from her seat on the bed and scooting around me to open the door. “What about …” her voice trails off as she goes through hangers. “Nah, that won’t work. Oooh, but what about?” There’s a snort, then a swear when a hanger clatters to the floor. Finally, she comes practically crawling out of the closet, leaving a mess of clothes behind her that makes Annabelle groan—she loathes a mess. “Ah-ha!” Scarlett crows. “I found the
perfect
thing for you to wear.” She holds the hanger in her hand out for me to take, and when I don’t do it immediately, she shakes it at me.

“What is this?” I look down at the dress, and my eyes practically bug out of my head. It’s made to look like two pieces, a black short-sleeved sweater, and a short red, black, and white plaid skirt. It looks extremely short, even on the hanger, and I can’t help but wonder how this is going to help combat
any
rumors. To me, it seems like wearing a short-as-hell dress out on a date will just reinforce them.

When I tell Scarlett this, though, she scoffs. “No it won’t. It’ll say you don’t give a damn what the haters say. It would do more damage if you wore a bulky sweater, loose jeans, and a pair of sneakers. That would say you’re trying too hard. This outfit, though? It says ‘I own who I am, and screw anyone who doesn’t like it’ or ‘I know I’m hot, and I don’t need to screw every guy I meet to prove it.’
That
’
s
why it’s perfect!” My mouth drops open, but I don’t get a chance to say anything because she’s too busy going through her drawers. “Here.” She throws a balled up wad of black at me, and when they land in my lap, I unravel them to discover a pair of silky black thigh-highs. “You have a pair of heels, right? Black ones would look best.” I nod, dumbly, watching her move around the room until she comes over to grab my hand. “Come on, let’s go check. Your date is tomorrow, and if you don’t have a pair that will work, we’ll need to go shopping. You can’t wear chucks with this outfit, and your feet are bigger than mine.”