Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) (8 page)

Max looks concerned. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh yeah,” I say, waving off his concern and acting like it’s nothing he needs to worry about. I’m not lying because he doesn’t need to worry about a fake doctor’s appointment. I’m going straight to that special place in hell they reserve for liars, I just know it. “I just have to,” I look over at Skanky McSkank who’s still clinging to him like a vine and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “go get birth control.”
Oh. Em. Gee.
It’s official. I’m an idiot.
Birth Control
? Seriously? That’s all I could come up with? I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks, and Max looks equal parts embarrassed and curious.

He clears his throat, looking anywhere but me when he asks, “Why do you need birth control?”

“Oh, you know,” I wave a hand dismissively, “college, experimenting, that kinda thing. I just want to be prepared.” I don’t think I quite pulled off carefree.

His head jerks and I watch his jaw tighten before he pins me with a glare. “
Experimenting
? Just who, and how many, are you planning to experiment with?”

I don’t know why he’s flipping out considering he has the girl he’s having sexy time with practically straddling him while he stands here talking to me. It’s not like I’m a virgin, not technically anyway. I don’t know if you can count my prom date sticking it in exactly one time before he filled the condom losing it, but there you go. It’s a night I’ve regretted since senior year, but it’s not like I can go back and change it.

Narrowing my eyes at Max, the guy who’s supposed to be my closest friend, I grit my teeth and spit out, “It’s none of your business, Maxwell.” His head snaps back and the hand that’s not attached to the arm around Sophie’s shoulders becomes a fist. Before he can say anything else, I shake my head and turn to leave.

I don’t get very far before I hear him say something unintelligible to her and her snippy voice reply. Then, his hand is on my elbow again and he tugs me around to face him. This time, he doesn’t give me an option before he wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on the top of my head. I want nothing more than to close my eyes and sink into his embrace, but I’m still upset with him, and he was just wrapped around
her
. I’m not interested in smelling like
skank du jour
. In the past twenty-four hours, he’s shown me that I’m much farther down on his list of priorities than I thought. Much lower than he is on mine, that’s for sure.

I stand stiffly in his arms, letting him hug me without hugging him in return until he drops his arms and takes a step back. “Man, you’re really mad at me, aren’t you?” he asks sadly.

“What do you expect, Max?” I blow up at him and hold up a hand to count the ways he’s wronged me. “In less than one day you’ve forgotten about me, which you haven’t actually apologized for by the way. You’ve made me feel like I’m not important to you, and now you’ve basically insinuated I’m a whore, or I’m going to be.” He has the grace to look ashamed, but I’m beyond caring right now. “I need a break.” My words cause him to flinch before he looks back at me, panic in his eyes. Before I can quench the knee-jerk reaction, I reassure him. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be friends with you anymore, but I need to take a step back. You’ve hurt me, and I can’t just let that go or you’ll keep doing it.” I take a step back, proud of how mature I sound, but still kicking myself for trying to make him feel better. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to talk, okay?”

Realizing he can’t change my mind, Max nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll wait for you to text.” He looks close to tears when he asks, “You know I love you though, right?” My heart seizes in my chest because
God
, I wish he was saying those words the same way I would to him. But, he’s not. He’s saying them like
I love you, friend
. The lump in my throat prevents me from speaking, so I only tip my chin in reply. I turn my back on him once again and walk away, trying not to cry. This time he lets me, and that actually breaks my heart a little bit more. I didn’t even realize I wanted him to come after me, to beg me to stay and tell me he’s realized that he feels for me the way I feel for him. I’m so pathetic.

I don’t stop moving until I get to my dorm room where I find my roommate for the year sitting on her bed with my other BFF, Peyton. As soon as the door shuts, they both look up at me. Peyton’s eyes go wide and she jumps up to come over to me.

“Kat? Oh my God, What’s wrong?” She hugs me, and as soon as she does, I lose the hold I had on my tears. They start to trail down my cheeks, and I let out a sob. I’m so mad at myself. I should have known this would happen. Eventually, Max was going to find someone; he was going to get a girlfriend, and I would be left out in the cold.

I guess that’s the way it should be, but it still hurts. And it’s not just that. It’s the fact that he sees me as this completely different person. I just want him to see
me
, not the girl I now know he thinks I am. And, by the way, what the hell is up with that? One lackluster post prom encounter and a comment about experimenting, and suddenly I’m a whore? My anger isn’t enough to overcome my hurt feelings, and I struggle to stop my tears. I’m so mad at myself for letting him do this to me over and over again.

Peyton leads me over to Becca’s bed and moves me so I’m sitting between them. She’s not normally a very touchy-feely person, so she’s quick to release me, but she keeps her hand on my back, rubbing it lightly. “Please talk to me,” she says softly. “Tell me whose ass I need to have Wyatt kick.”

The image of nice-guy Wyatt kicking Max’s ass makes me laugh. It’s watery, but it helps. Before I know it, the whole story has spilled out of me. The project I have to work on with Clay, Max not picking me up, Clay acting like a human being and giving me a ride, walking in on Max and Big Tits McGee—which is such a “Clay” thing to say—the subsequent breakdown and ending with the confrontation today. By the time I’m finished, I’m exhausted and Becca and Peyton are both staring at me in shock, mouths dropped open. Peyton is the first to recover and her anger is a little scary. She’s kind of a bitch on a good day, but hurt her friends and she’s a beast. She actually reminds me of those hunger commercials—the ones that say “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” I almost feel bad for Max, though it doesn’t last very long once I remember the girl.

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” I complain, resting my head on Peyton’s shoulder, “except she’s like the better, prettier, bustier version of me.” My voice is clogged with unshed tears and I could really use a tissue, but I don’t want to move.

Peyton snorts. “You have great boobs.”

“I guess. But, hers are bigger.”

This time, Becca is the one to chime in. “Bigger isn’t always better you know. I mean, maybe she’ll suffocate him with her chest. Wouldn’t that be sad? And, can you imagine the inscription Clay would have put on his grave?” She starts to laugh when she describes it. “Here lies Max, killed not by herpes, but by the motorboat of death.”

“Motorboat of death?” Peyton asks, trying desperately to hold in her laughter. “Ohmigod. I can’t even.”

Becca puts her hands in front of her face and makes motorboating sounds, not wanting us to see her duck lips, and prompting Peyton and I to stare at her in shock before we collapse back on the bad, laughing uncontrollably. Becca, like Peyton, has long blond hair and a trust fund. She’s a couple of inches shorter than me, but she’s also smaller. They’d look like sisters almost if it wasn’t for the color she had put in her hair when she was home on break. Now, she’s rocking hair that’s pale blond on top and looks like it’s been dipped in lavender paint at the ends. It’s a very cool look, and one I could never pull off.

“In all seriousness,” Becca says, her eyes locked to mine where I sit, my head still on Peyton’s shoulder with a hand clasping each of theirs. “Don’t sweat Max. He has no clue what he’s missing, and when he figures it out, he’s going to regret it. But, you need to move on. Date someone who
isn’t
Max.” She advises, then turns to Peyton. “Doesn’t Wyatt have any other hot friends you can set her up with?”

Peyton shrugs, “Yeah, I mean, he has some friends on the basketball team, but they aren’t very close. He mainly hangs out with Clay, Emmett and Max. Since Em has Livvie and Clay is a douchwaffle, options are limited.” She turns to me, “But, I’ll ask him if there’s anyone he trusts not to screw you over, Kat.”

I start to protest, but maybe Becca has a point. If I date someone else, maybe these feelings I have for Max will fade. At least, I can hope, right?

Clay

It’s been a little more than a week since Max and Kat’s blowout. Max has been a complete pain in the ass to live with ever since. He’s pouting around the house like a kid who just found out Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny aren’t real. When he isn’t pouting, he’s lashing out at everyone. I’m ready to lock the two of them in a closet until they work this shit out. Either that, or I’m sending him back to live with our parents. He can pout to mommy instead.

I slump down in my seat when I see Kat enter the room. Because she’s pissed at my idiot brother, she’s making my life hell too. She says I’m the one who taught him his
asshole ways
and I deserve to suffer too. Unfortunately for both of us, we have a project to turn in and need to decide on a topic, then work out who’s going to do what.

She drops into her seat, with a huff, just before the professor starts today’s discussion, which happens to be on fifties rock. It’s something I’m not that into, so I pretend not to let it bother me that she continues to act like I don’t exist. As “Charlie” drones on about the likes of Bill Haley and Chuck Berry, I lean over so my mouth is right next to her ear, tucking a strand of her hair behind it, and causing her to jump.

“You can’t ignore me forever, Kitty Kat.” My voice comes out sounding like I’ve been chewing on gravel. I clear my throat but keep my position, even though the cotton candy scent of her perfume filled my nostrils. I feel the need to adjust my hardening cock, something I can’t do here in class. Kat would probably tell Charlie I flashed her.

Kat sits straight up, stiff as a board, her eyes locked on the professor like she’s afraid he’s going to call on her. It’s only our fourth class, but I can already tell her he likes hearing himself speak way too much to ask us anything. I hate being ignored, so I continue to taunt her. “C’mon Kat, you know you wanna talk to me.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, and I know I’m getting to her. I lean even closer so my breath tickles her ear when I say, “Don’t you want to know how Max is doing?”

As soon as I mention my brother’s name, she jerks away from me, making so much noise in her haste the professor stops talking to search for the source of the noise. When he sees me leaning toward Kat while she’s trying to get as far from me as possible, his eyes narrow.

“Mister,” he pauses to look down at a paper on the podium, “Mitchell, is there something I can help you with?”

Kat coughs, covering up her laughter. I move away from her, slouching down in my seat and attempting to appear nonchalant. “Nah, Chuck. I’m good.” The students sitting around us laugh, and I smirk at the professor. He stands at the front of the room, narrowed eyes focused on me. “I’m just trying to pin my project partner down on a time to meet so we can discuss what we’re going to do,” I tell him in a sudden burst of inspiration.
Man, I’m a good bullshitter. I should give lessons
.

Charlie clears his throat as he shuffles some papers on the podium. “Well, Mr. Mitchell, please try to coordinate meetings at the beginning or end of class instead of during the lecture.”

“Yes sir,” I say with a salute, cocky smile still on my lips. Kat shakes her head in annoyance, but she doesn’t speak. In fact, she doesn’t so much as look at me for the rest of class.

As soon as the professor says he’ll see us Friday, Kat starts packing her things. Knowing I need to get her attention before she tries to get away from me, I put a hand on her arm. “Hang on a second.” She ignores me, and I hurry to say, “Please?”

“What is it, Clay?” she asks, not bothering to look up from where she’s carefully placing her pen and highlighters in her bag. She’s so OCD.

“I wasn’t bullshitting when I said we need to set a time to get together. Contrary to popular belief, I do want to graduate in a few months. Failing a class isn’t going to give me the credits I need, and I damn sure don’t want to be stuck in this hellhole longer than I have to.” Yeah, I could have played it off, given her a smartass answer or made a joke, but then she’d just blow me off. I do need the credits this class will give me if I want to graduate. I may hate the idea of working for my father, but it’s not like I can avoid it forever. Failing a class like History of Rock will only get me a lecture on responsibility and disappoint both my parents.

My honesty prompts Kat to stop concentrating so hard on the placement of books in her bag and look over at me. “Fine,” she says with a long-suffering sigh. “When do you want to meet?”