Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1)

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Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) Page 15

by Stacey Mosteller


  “So …” he starts, drawing out the word and watching me intently. “A little bird told me that you didn’t just take the kitten home.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. She’s not his kitten. I’m the only one who calls her Kitty Kat. I don’t correct him though, because if I do, he’ll just get the wrong idea. “Dude,” he grins, “why didn’t you tell me you slept with her?”

  I arch one eyebrow and give him a look that says shut your fucking mouth. The smile on his face grows wider, and I decide to just play it off. What did—or didn’t—happen between us is none of his business. “Aww, Lee, I’m sorry.” Adopting a falsetto, I exaggerate my hand movements and say, “Let’s get our nails done, and I’ll tell you all about it!” Emmett laughs so hard he has to grip the railing to keep his balance, while Liam casts his eyes away, looking properly chastised. I shove his shoulder as I walk by him. “I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your fucking business.”

  He nods, “Yeah man, okay.” One side of his mouth turns up, and I know I’m going to want to punch him for what he says next. “You didn’t say it didn’t happen.” He holds out his fist for me to bump and with a groan, I meet his with mine. “Later,” he says when we’re done, and Emmett and I both watch him walk away.

  “Clay,” Emmett warns, “you better hope he doesn’t do what I think he’s going to do.” I look at him questioningly, and he explains. “He’s one of the biggest shit talkers on campus, and you basically just told him you fucked Kat. The whole campus will know by the end of the day.”

  Fuck. Me.

  Kat

  As we walk out of the only class we have together this semester, Scarlett sighs in relief. “I’m so glad that’s over,” First Aid and CPR is a class we are required to take since we’re both going into education. Today we had to practice performing CPR on these creepy looking manikins while the teacher gave us pointers and corrected our positioning.

  “I know,” I agree. “I’m just glad we were able to pick our own partners. Can you imagine how mortifying it would have been to be partnered up with one of the guys in class?” Just the thought of being paired with a random guy while basically making out with a plastic doll makes me cringe.

  Scarlett shrugs. “I dunno, being partnered with a guy could have been fun.” When I look at her in disbelief, she clarifies, “Well, it would have been fun if that Chris guy from my English class was my partner.” She stops talking as we walk into The Handy Bean; a place lots of college students use to get their caffeine fix instead of venturing closer to downtown for the trendier, more expensive option. Plus, the place gives a twenty-five percent discount if you show your college ID card.

  Because first aid is an early morning class, the shop isn’t as busy as it will be in an hour. Anyone who doesn’t have an eight a.m. class is probably either still asleep, or just getting up. Even so, there is a line, so Scarlett goes to place our orders while I head for a seat far enough from the entrance to avoid the rush of cold air that comes in whenever it opens.

  I put my bag in one of the empty seats and grab my phone to play a game while I wait for her. A couple texts are waiting on the screen, all from Clay, that came in between last night and this morning. I’ve been careful not to so much as look at my phone since he sent a message asking if we could talk not even twenty-four hours after the-kiss-that-shall-not-be-acknowledged. I’m still avoiding him after what happened the other night. I can’t believe he kissed me. Mustering up all the courage I have, I tap the screen to open the conversation

  The first was sent last night, the one that made me avoid my phone.

  Clay: Hey. Need 2 talk 2 u

  The second came in at not even six this morning.

  Clay: WTF? RU avoiding me now?

  Then, one not quite an hour ago.

  Clay: C’mon Kat. It’s important.

  And finally, a group sent ten minutes ago, right at the end of class, and they make me thankful the CPR instructor let us out a few minutes early. Otherwise, he would have been waiting on me.

  Clay: Fine. U can’t avoid me forever.

  Clay: If u won’t come 2 me, I’ll come 2 u.

  Clay: Where r u?

  A shadow suddenly looms over me, and I tense. Crap. Clay found me. I turn slowly and breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the person standing behind me isn’t Clay at all. It’s Aaron, a guy from my last class.

  “Hey,” he says in a deep voice, smiling down at me. Maybe it’s just because I’m sitting, but he’s tall. Like, a couple of inches taller than Clay, tall. I realize that I’ve seen him before. In fact, I saw him the other night sitting at the same table in the dining hall as Clay, Max and Wyatt, and again at the basketball game.

  I realize I’m just staring at him like an idiot and manage to stutter out, “H-h-hey.”

  “Is this seat taken?” He gestures towards the empty seat closest to me. I shake my head, and he sits, placing his drink on the table and grinning over at me. “It’s a good thing we learned CPR today,” he says casually.

  My lips turn down in a frown, and my brows furrow as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

  He repeats his words with a laugh, ending with, “because you take my breath away.”

  I roll my eyes but laugh. “Please tell me that’s not the best line you have.”

  Aaron chuckles. “No. Trust me, I have way better lines than that. I just wanted to see you smile.” My face heats with a blush. Wow. That was actually pretty smooth. I look away, tucking my hair behind one ear. He laughs louder, and I look back at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re pretty when you blush; you know that?” I shake my head, but I don’t know if it’s in denial or disbelief. Aaron takes it as denial, and reassures me. “I mean it.” He reaches out a hand like he’s going to cup my cheek, but drops it. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Aaron.”

  “I know who you are.” His head tilts in question, so I explain. “You’re on the basketball team with Wyatt Parker. I’m friends with his fiancé.”

  Face clearing, he looks a little relieved. “Cool.” He looks around the coffee shop before returning his attention to me to say, “Anyway, I came over to ask you a question.”

  “Oh?”

  Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, he clears his throat, appearing to gather his thoughts before he says, “I’ve been watching you in class.” My back goes straight, and I lean away from him. Um, okay. That’s a little creepy. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, similar to the way Clay does when he’s uncomfortable or embarrassed. “That didn’t come out right.” I relax a little, glad he realizes he just sounded like a stalker, but his next words freak me out even more. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.” I feel bad, because aside from the other night in the dining hall, I’d never seen him before.

  I try to think of something to say, but he continues on, almost like he just wants to get it over with. “I think you’re beautiful. Will you have dinner with me? This Friday maybe?” He looks so hopeful; I don’t know how to turn him down without being a bitch about it. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is asking me out, and he’s kinda cute. Maybe not Clay’s level of hot, but attractive nonetheless. Of course, going on a date with him because he’s “cute” isn’t the best reason to go out with someone, but who knows? Maybe he’ll grow on me.

  “Yeah, okay.” His lips twist at my less than enthusiastic agreement, so I smile at him and try again. “I’d love to go out with you. Friday sounds perfect.”

  His smile spreads across his face to show his teeth. “Cool,” he says again, and I smile in return. Taking out his phone, he types something in, then asks, “What’s your number? I’ll text you later to set up a time. I hafta get to class.”

  Well, okay then. The abruptness of his give me your number so I can go attitude makes me blink, but I recite my number anyway. He enters it into his phone before texting me so I have his numb
er, then stands. “See you Friday.” I don’t get a chance to reply, or even blink, before he’s gone.

  A coffee cup is set down in front of me, and I turn to see Scarlett sit down across from me. “There should really be another coffee place to go close by,” she complains. “Even when it’s early this place is crazy busy.”

  I make a non-committal noise. The fact that the cafe is busy doesn’t normally bother me unless there’s no place to sit. But, even then, we’re not far from our dorm, so I can just take my coffee and go.

  Scarlet takes my non-answer as a sign of agreement and keeps complaining. I tune her out, still wondering why on earth Aaron, a guy who’s never uttered even one word to me before, would suddenly be so interested in me. “Hey!”

  Scarlett’s loud voice breaks into my thoughts, and I raise my head to look at her. “Huh?”

  “I said, what’s with the look on your face?” she asks, studying me as she takes a sip of her hot coffee.

  I look down, studying the cup between my hands like it holds the answer to all my questions. When it gives me nothing, I look back up at her. “Nothing really, just a weird conversation with a guy from class.”

  Scarlett leans forward, placing her cup down on the table so she can focus on me. “Oh? Who?”

  “His name is Aaron; he plays basketball with Wyatt. He sat down, told me he’s been watching me in class and asked me out for this Friday.” She claps her hands and grins with glee, but her smile falls a little when I tell her, “Then, he got my number and just left.”

  Her expression turns thoughtful, lips pursing for a second before she says, “Huh. That is weird.” Then, her face brightens and she squeals, grabbing my hands. “But, still! You have a date! With an actual guy! That’s so awesome.”

  I start to reply, but the seat Aaron was sitting in is suddenly occupied … by Clay. Scarlett’s eyes go wide, and when I turn to him, I understand why. His face is flushed, and he looks pissed. Crap. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but the look that passes through his eyes gives me pause.

  “I need to talk to Kat,” he tells Scarlett, not even asking me what I want. Her mouth drops open a little, but she doesn’t put up a fight.

  With a shrug, she says, “Okay,” drawing the word out like she’s waiting for him to explain, but he just glares. Grabbing her bag, she mouths, Call me, and disappears. I turn back to Clay, but the stormy expression on his face makes me feel like I’ve just swallowed my tongue. I can’t say anything, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m terrified of this side of him, or because the dark look on his face makes me squirmy.

  Clay

  I stop in front of The Handy Bean—Liam calls it “The Handy” for obvious reasons—and watch Kat talk to Aaron. He’s entering something into his phone, and I can only hope she’s not giving him her number. Aaron’s one of the bigger players on the basketball team, one who according to Wyatt had a pregnancy scare with a girl not two months ago. Absolutely not the type of guy Kat should be hooking up with … not unless she wants to pull a SarahBeth and wind up with a baby before she graduates.

  Anger makes my hands clench into fists at my side, and I take one deep breath after another, counting to ten more than once in an attempt to calm myself down. If I don’t, I’m going to wind up getting kicked out of the coffee shop, possibly even banned for life, after beating the shit out of a guy just for hitting on a girl who’s way too good for him. Luckily for him, he doesn’t linger with Kat.

  When he walks outside, his attention locked on his phone, I step in front of him. Aaron’s head jerks up, and the smug smile on his face slowly leaves when he sees the look on mine. “Hey man, what’s up?”

  I step closer to him, ignoring all the people having to walk around us because we’re standing just outside the door. “What were you doing with Kat?” He shrugs, and I grind my teeth together, trying to keep my cool. It’s hard because I want to punch the smug, asshole-ish look off his face.

  After staring at each other for a few seconds, his mouth widens, so far his straight white teeth are bared. I entertain a brief fantasy of knocking a few of them out but manage to keep the lid on my anger. Anger that doesn’t even make any sense. I don’t have any real claim to Kat; I know that. But, she’s Kat, and she feels like she’s mine.

  “Dude,” Aaron says, shaking his head in amusement. “Chill. I’m not trying to step on any toes. I figured you’d be done with her now, so she’s open for business.”

  I lose my grip on the rage coursing through my body. When I take another step forward, we’re almost toe-to-toe, and even though he’s got a few inches on me, the feelings running through me make me feel much taller than I am. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and with every bang, I want to hurt him. “What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about?” I ask him through gritted teeth. My jaw is clenched so hard it’s painful, my short nails digging into my palms as I stand before him, practically vibrating with the level of pissed off I’m feeling right now.

  “Chill out,” he says, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. Chill out? Fuck that noise. I glare at him, and he starts to look a little unsure. “Look, Clay, man, I’m sorry. Liam said you banged her, and now that she’s out of your system, she’s fair game.” Hearing what Liam said about her, and knowing I’m at least partially to blame since I didn’t deny shit when I talked to Lee, makes me want to kick my own ass. Aaron continues talking, completely oblivious to my internal meltdown. “I’ll admit; I thought it was your brother she had a thing for. Figured I’d wait to see if he got his head out of his ass, but he hasn’t. And then when I heard you broke the seal, I guess, well, I mean, if she doesn’t have a thing for Max anymore, she might be up for some fun.”

  I’m reduced to counting again. Fun. Like that’s all she’s good for, a good time. Poking Aaron in the chest, I tell him, the anger in my voice barely controlled, “If you’re just looking for a fast fuck, you better stay the hell away from her.” I know I have to try to do damage control, I’m just not sure how to do it without looking like a seedy bastard or a lovesick one. Any other time, I might be willing to own up to the first, but I’ll never be the second.

  Scrubbing the back of my neck with one hand, I try to come up with something non-idiotic to say in an attempt to squelch the rumors going around. Rumors I’ve perpetuated. “Fuck. Look, Aaron, I don’t know what all Lee’s telling people, but he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Me and Kat? That shit never happened. She got wasted at a party, and I let her sleep it off at my place because her stupid ass roommate ditched her. Nothing happened, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d make sure anyone Liam told the other shit to knows that.” I shouldn’t have to explain this. Since when did my friends—all guys—start being all about spreading gossip? Man cards are going to be pulled all over this campus.

  Aaron laughs, fucking laughs at my denial! “Yeah, man, whatever you say.” It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me and knowing that gives me a headache. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to come up with a way to explain this so the damn meathead will get it. “Look, I gotta jet. We’ll talk later, kay?” He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything, and before I can blink, he claps me on the shoulder twice, then walks away.

  I look back inside the coffee shop, watching Kat and Scarlett talk, knowing I need to warn her away from Aaron. She’s going to murder my balls when she finds out rumors are spreading around campus because I didn’t bother to straighten anything out. Breathing out a frustrated sigh, I head inside, catching the very end of her conversation.

  “But, still! You have a date! With an actual guy! That’s so awesome,” Scarlett squeals.

  Grimacing, I take the seat Aaron vacated only a few minutes ago. I watch Scarlett’s eyes go wide, but I can’t stop the scowl twisting my lips. Kat turns to face me, and her eyes widen just a little before she opens her mouth to say something.

  “I need to talk to Kat,” I inform Scarlett matter-of-factly, avoiding Kat and everything I need to tel
l her for the moment. The fewer witnesses to my verbal castration, the better. Her mouth drops open, and any other time I’d warn her about the ideas the round “O” of her bright red lips will give a guy, but I can’t even joke right now.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t fight me. “Okay,” she agrees with a shrug, the word more syllables than it ever needs to be. Why do people even do that? It’s not sufficient to just say “okay?” It has to be drawn out to be “okaaaaaaay” which is so friggin’ annoying. I glare at her, refusing to say thank you or anything else, just wanting her to be gone, and she grabs her bag, turning to Kat to mouth something and get her agreement before hurrying away.

  Kat turns back to me, and I know the expression I’m sure is on my face is making her worry. “What’s going on, Clay?” she asks warily.

  “I did something really fucking stupid.” As much as I don’t want to tell her, I know I need to, and it’s better to just put it out there, but getting the words past the sudden lump in my throat is impossible.

  This time, she’s the one drawing out the word. “Okay?” Why didn’t I just straighten Liam out when I had the choice? This could have all been avoided if I hadn’t wanted to make some caveman claim on her so no one else would be able to. Boy, didn’t that backfire. Kat’s looking up at me, her face so trusting, not thinking I would ever do this to her, and the words die in my throat. I can’t tell her. She’ll never forgive me if I do.

  The longer we sit here staring at each other, the more uncomfortable the silence becomes. I start to fidget in my seat, my leg bouncing thanks to the anxiety telling her what I’ve done makes me feel. “So …” Kat starts, looking down at the table, where she’s clutching her cup with both hands, the skin around her knuckles turning white from how tight her grip is. When she meets my wary eyes, she starts to talk, so fast if I didn’t already know what she was saying I’d be lost. “Aaron asked me out, and I said yes.” She winces on the last word, and so do I.

 

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