Max’s head jerks back at the challenge in my voice. “What are you talking about?” He starts to say something again, but stops, almost like he can’t decide what he wants to say. This situation is so screwed up.
“You know what I’m talking about.” I step up to him, so we’re almost face-to-face. I’m a few inches taller, so he has to look up to meet my flashing eyes. His are full of trepidation, and he doesn’t respond. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been holding onto Kat as your backup plan? You’ve always played dumb about her feelings for you, but you expected her to never give up on you.” His jaw drops open, and he starts to shake his head, but I still don’t let him get a word in. I barely notice Wyatt walk into the room and shut the door behind him so he can lean up against it.
“Kat has always deserved better than you,” I snarl.
Max shoves me, and I’m so astonished, I take a step back. This time, he’s the one getting up in my face. “And what? You think you’ve treated her so much better? I didn’t say anything, but not because I was keeping her on standby—which is a fucked up thing to do by the way. I never said anything because I didn’t want to hurt her. Over the past five or six years, can you say the same?” He pokes me in the chest and hisses, “Who’s the one always making fun of her?” He stands up straight to deliver his final blow. “You’ve made her cry a hundred times more than I have.”
Then, he spins around and glares at Wyatt. “I’m out.” His voice lowers when he tells Wyatt, “Sorry we ruined your night.” Wyatt waves him off but moves out of the way so he can leave. Once he slams the door shut behind him, it’s just Wy and me.
“Anything you want to talk about?” he asks, raising one eyebrow. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks like he’s got something to say. I wait for it, but it never comes. “Nothing? Nothin’ at all?” I continue to stare, and he drops his arms to shrug. “Okay then. I’m here if you want to talk, man.”
Now he’s the one to turn and leave. I follow him out just as Scarlett walks back through the front door. Max is pulling Sophie out as she comes in, and she stops to shoot him a look that would castrate a lesser man. I can’t stop myself from asking her, “Is she okay?”
Scarlett cocks her head to the side and studies me before she answers. “I’m not sure. She didn’t really say much. I’ll check on her later when we get back to the dorm.”
Kat’s at the dorm, alone. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that there’s no one there for her to break down on. It has to be coming, if it hasn’t already. She looked like she was about to break before she left with Scarlett before. Then there’s Max, who left with his girlfriend and we’re a few miles from our apartment. I don’t know where she lives, but this building is about halfway between our place and the dorms at school. It’s late, so he shouldn’t be walking.
I turn to Wyatt; I need to go. He looks at me knowingly and nods, moving from his spot next to the chair he was sitting in with Peyton earlier to walk me out. When we step off the last step, Max and Sophie are standing with their arms wrapped around each other again. I should be happy for my little brother, but I can’t bring myself to feel good about him liking a girl when he’s hurting someone else, especially when that someone is Kat.
“I’ll take them home,” Wyatt says in a low voice, his eyes on me watching them.
Turning to face him, I ask, “Are you sure?”
He nods. “Yeah. I’m betting you want to go check on Kat, right?” I jerk back, wondering how he knows that. I protest, but he just gives me a look that says “just go already.”
The ride to Kat’s takes about twenty minutes, and once I’m standing in front of the entrance to her dorm, I freeze, wondering if this is really the best thing to do. I’m not sure why I’m even here. She probably wants nothing to do with any Mitchell family member right now, and it’s not like I’ve ever made anything easy on her. I turn to leave, but I just can’t force myself to do it.
A group of girls chooses just then to walk outside, and it should be a blow to my ego that they don’t even look my way. They’re too busy giggling over something on their phones—I hear something about a penis with arms, and decide I don’t want to know more. It doesn’t keep me from taking advantage of their inattention. I slide through the door before it shuts, and head for Kat’s room. She’s still in the same one we moved her into this time last year, so it’s not hard to find.
I knock lightly, both to keep from chickening out and hoping she won’t hear. A few minutes go by before the door opens, and she’s standing in front of me wearing a pale blue tank top and silky looking pants. Her eyes are puffy, her nose red, but thankfully, she’s no longer crying. By the looks of her, it hasn’t been long since she stopped.
Kat
“Clay?” I utter, unable to believe my eyes. What is he doing here?
The look he gives me is tender. “I came to check on you.” My cheeks turn pink. Oh no. I asked the question out loud! I guess it could be worse, though. There’s a lot of other thoughts I could have put voice to that would be way more awkward. Clay shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable standing outside my room. “Oh!” I realize what this will probably look like to anyone who comes down the hallway. Having people think he hooked up with me would probably be so embarrassing for him. I move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.
“Thanks,” he mutters. He’s only five or six inches taller than me, but he’s so broad it feels like he’s towering over me in this small space. I step back more and end up tripping over Becca’s desk chair. A hand reaches out and grabs my bicep, stopping my momentum, and pulling me back to a standing position.
I breathe out a thank you, beyond mortified that he’s seeing me act so clumsy. After what Scarlett said in the car earlier, and the protective way he acted toward me at Peyton’s, I don’t know how to act around him. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin, like it’s itchy and stretched too tight. Wanting to get this over with, I sit heavily in the chair I almost fell over and he does the same with mine. Once he sits, I have to bite my lip to keep a giggle from escaping. My desk chair is a bright pink color—thanks, Anna—and it’s tiny compared to his wide shoulders.
He sits forward, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped together between them, studying me. “What?” I ask, pushing my hair back behind my ears. It’s a nervous move, one I only do when I’m trying to figure out what to do with my hands. I want to look away from him, but I can’t. Bringing my hands down to my lap, I mirror his pose, then sit back up straight, unable to stop fidgeting.
Finally, Clay takes my hand, forcing me to stop and meet his intense gaze. “Chill,” he says in a scratchy voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I snort in disbelief and his eyes go flat. “I mean it, Kat. You’ve had a rough night, and I wouldn’t make it worse …” he trails off, thinking. “At least, not on purpose.” One side of his mouth tips up in a small grin, and I feel myself smile back at him.
“Sorry,” I tell him sheepishly. He shrugs, but doesn’t say anything, so I take the shrug to mean “don’t worry about it.”
Silence falls between us, but for once it’s not an uncomfortable silence. After a minute or so, I’m unable to keep my eyes on his. It feels too intimate, especially tonight. My stomach feels like a thousand butterflies have taken up residence inside it, a feeling I’ve never had before, and one that definitely isn’t one I would associate with Clay. The Clay sitting across from me though is someone completely foreign to me. He’s being nice, sweet even, and it’s disconcerting. The tension is the room becomes thick, and it feels like something important is about to happen.
Where before, I was the one unable to sit still, now it’s him. The longer we sit not speaking, the more he moves, trying to get comfortable. He shifts from side-to-side, straightens, so he’s no longer hunched forward, then rubs the back of his neck with one hand like he’s got a crick in it.
“So,” he starts, “uh … are you sure you’re okay?�
� I nod, my throat feeling like there’s a knot inside it. God, this is so awkward. At my nod, he does the same, then stands. Clay shoves his hands back in his jeans’ pockets and looks longingly towards the door.
I stand, and he moves closer to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later?” he asks, opening the door and sighing visibly in relief when he’s standing in the hallway. I walk to the doorway too and look up at him.
“Yeah, see you in class, Clay. Thanks for … you know … coming to check on me tonight.” I smile up at him, and he gives me one in response. Then, before I can anticipate it, he leans down, so his mouth is close to my ear, and I instinctively turn to see what he’s doing. He was aiming to kiss my cheek, but I don’t figure that out until it’s too late, and instead, he kisses my lips.
Frozen in shock, neither of us move. Our lips are barely touching, but it’s enough that I feel like mine are on fire. His eyes are as wide as I know mine are, and I gasp, pulling away quickly. I raise a suddenly shaking hand to my lips, and he straightens, standing stiffly.
“Sorry,” he mutters, before turning away and practically running down the steps. I’m left standing in my open doorway, staring after him like an idiot. The only thing I can think? Ohmigod, I just kissed Clay! What next? Is the world going to end? A blizzard? A hurricane in the middle of Tennessee?
Okay, so that last one’s definitely a little far-fetched, but come on. This is Clay we’re talking about. Clay doesn’t kiss girls like me. I’m the opposite of the kind of girl he goes for. He goes for the easy ones, the ones with the big boobs, the ones who are fine with a one-night stand.
I stand in the open doorway for a few more minutes, my lips still feeling the slight press of his against them, until I see Becca come up the stairs. She stops when she sees me, and I know I must look as shell-shocked as I feel. “What’s wrong?” she asks, coming to stand in front of me with a concerned frown on her face.
The words come out before I can stop them. “Clay kissed me,” I tell her, my voice barely a whisper. I still can’t believe it.
Becca gasps, her eyes lighting up with mirth. “Clay kissed you?” she asks excitedly. “Clay Mitchell?” She claps her hands with what I think is glee, and I roll my eyes.
“Yes, Clay Mitchell. Do we know any other Clay’s?”
The sarcasm in my voice is heavy, and Becca narrows her eyes in a glare. “S-o-rry,” she snipes. “I just didn’t think you had that kind of relationship.”
I look up at her, a little shocked at the tone of her voice. She almost sounds … jealous? I’m not sure how to go about asking what her problem is, so I drop it. Stepping back, I move so she can walk by me, and watch as she drops her bag carelessly on the desk chair I was sitting in earlier. She doesn’t say anything further to me, and it makes me wonder what her deal is even more. I’ve only known her a few months, but she’s never had this kind of reaction to anything dealing with Clay. “Bec?” I ask, almost afraid of what she’ll say.
“What?” She’s digging through her dresser, and when she turns to face me, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are glassy. They quickly dart away from me as she grabs the first thing she touches and walks past me, picking up her shower caddy and the towel hanging on the back of our door. I start to say something, but she slams the door behind her, not giving me a chance.
Two hours later, she still hasn’t returned, and I’m beyond tired. I hate going to bed when she’s clearly upset, but whatever she’s upset about, she doesn’t want to discuss it with me. Finally, I lie down; sure I’ll never sleep with the thoughts going through my mind. I kissed Clay. Or, I guess, he kissed me. And, I liked it. Those thoughts go round and round in my mind until finally, exhausted, I fall into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Clay kissing me, touching me, while Becca watches with a heartbroken look on her face. My subconscious is so screwed up.
Clay
I kissed her, fucking kissed her, then ran away like a goddamn scared kid. My hands run through my hair as I pace back and forth in front of my bed. I barely slept at all last night, unable to see anything but the shock on her face when I pulled away. And then, instead of owning what I’d done? I apologized and ran down the stairs, desperate to get away from her. Jesus, when did I turn into such a pussy?
“Yo, Clay!” Emmett yells through the apartment, breaking me out of my freak out. “We’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” I look down at my watch and realize we have less than fifteen minutes to get to campus. Shit. Grabbing my bag, I rush out of my room to meet him at the front door. As we walk down the steps, he asks, “How’d the proposal go last night?”
Em was supposed to be there last night, but he texted at the last minute saying “something came up.” I’m sure the something was Livvie, but I’m not asking shit. If he wants to talk about her, I’ll listen, but I’m damn sure not going to initiate a conversation about the bitch. She’s been screwing my cousin—and not in the fun way—for years, and he found out just a few months ago that she’d been cheating on him for months with a guy a few years older than us. He took her back like he always does, and I can’t figure out why. Why be in a relationship with someone you can’t trust?
“It went,” I say with a shrug. “Peyton said yes, not that anyone expected her not to. It was after the proposal things got fucked.”
Emmett waits till we’re in my car before he asks for clarification. “What happened after?” He laughs, “Peyton’s parents showed up and had her committed because she agreed to marry”—he gasps, covering his mouth with one hand and widening his eyes almost comically—“a poor guy?”
My eyes roll at his dramatics. He’s been with Livvie way too long. “Jesus. Do you want to just hand in your man card right now? I know you’ve been on probation, but damn, dude.” Out of the corner of my eye I see him grimace, and decide to give him a break. “Kat and Max had it out last night when we got back to Wyatt’s.”
Emmett twists in his seat to stare at me, mouth hanging half open. “You’re kidding. How’d that happen?”
I groan, because we sound like a couple of gossiping girls, but tell him anyway. “He was there with the chick he’s banging and started shit with Kat. I guess she’s finally tired of putting up with his bullshit—” I cut him a look while we’re sitting at a stoplight, but he ignores me “—and laid it all out for him. Told him she’d been in love with him forever, and I don’t know how he didn’t know that. Then, of course, he acted like an idiot, told her she was wrong and his girl, Sophia? Sophie? Man, I don’t know. She decided to get in on it too and start running her mouth.” I grin at the memory of Kat standing up to my shithead brother, and tell Emmett, just as I pull into a parking spot “I ended up being the one to end the drama.”
He doesn’t reply until we’re out of the car. “Hang on. So, Kat went after your brother for being a dumbass; he proved that he is a dumbass, and then you’re the one who was the voice of reason?” It sounds like he doesn’t believe me, and it gets my back up.
“Hey,” I complain, “when it comes to you and Max, I am the voice of reason. Look how much better off you’d be if you listened to me a couple months ago.” The crestfallen look that crosses his face makes me instantly regret the words, and I start to apologize.
Emmett lifts a hand. “Stop. I get it. I’m as big a dumbass as Max is. Thanks for pointing that out … again.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looks down quickly before shoving it back in. “Class starts in less than five minutes. Let’s go.” He starts to walk away, his steps quicken, and I have to hurry to catch up to him.
“Sorry, Em.” He shoots a glare at me, and I’m quick to reassure him. “No, really, I am.” Conversations like this are so damn uncomfortable for me. I don’t like admitting I’m wrong, and I definitely don’t like talking about feelings, so I’m unsure what to say to make up for my asshole comment. Thankfully Emmett waves me off before heading into the building, leaving me to sigh, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets and hunching my shoulders as I walk in behind him.
If someone were to ask me what today’s class was about, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. The class is primarily a two-hour long lecture with about forty-five students. For the most part, the TA is the one who teaches the class while the professor sits behind his desk on his computer. With the amount of attention he doesn’t pay to us, he’s probably watching porn. Hell, I wish I was watching porn instead of sitting in this class.
When class is finally over, we start to leave, and I can see Becca at the end of the hall talking to a group of people. Our eyes meet, and hers widen to the point she looks like an anime character before she hurries off. Hmm, what’s that about? Emmett and I walk closer to the group, and I see one of the people is Liam. I walk over and clap him on the shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Hey man,” he says, face split wide by his grin. I know that look. It’s the one he has when one of us—his friends—does something he thinks is epic. My first thought is uh oh, but I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would make him look that way. I exchange a wary look with Emmett and know he’s thinking the same thing.
Liam walks outside with us and immediately lights a cigarette. “You guys want?” he asks, pointing the half-empty pack first toward Emmett, then me. We both shake our heads, and Emmett even wrinkles his nose at the smell. I rarely smoke, usually only when I’m with a group of people who do and we’re drinking, unlike Emmett whose dad used to smoke a pack a day. Now he uses one of the electronic things so Aunt Luce won’t nag him about it anymore. Seeing we aren’t interested, Liam shrugs, shoving the pack back in his jacket pocket. He leans back against the railing, bracing his hands on it, and holding the cigarette in one hand while he flicks the ashes onto the ground.
Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) Page 14