Looking for Trouble

by Stacey Lewis

  Me: Sorry bout Max

  I have to wait a few minutes, but she finally sends a reply.

  Kat: not ur fault.

  I’ll get over it.

  Her reply makes me smile. She doesn’t seem upset anymore, so I guess that’s good.

  Me: U goin 2 bball game?

  Kat: Yes. U?

  Me: Yep. See u there?

  Kat: K

  I wait for her to say something else, but she never does. Is the “K” an agreement that she’s going to see me? Or does it just mean “whatever” or “fuck off”? Why am I even wondering about it? I shove my phone in my jeans pocket and pull my hood over my head. It’s cold tonight, too cold really to wear a hoodie, but I didn’t want to carry around a bulky jacket during the game. I’m regretting that decision now, like so many others recently.

  Twenty-Four

  We walk to the dining hall, Scarlett with her arm through mine as she talks about the hot, grumpy dude in her English class. I’m grateful the attention is off me and the did we or didn’t we about Clay.

  “Ohmigod,” she gushes. “This guy, I don’t know his name because I was too busy looking at his body, but,” she sighs heavily, “he’s the perfect broody mystery man.” We all laugh, but she stops us with a look. “No, I’m serious. He’s older than us. I don’t know if he started late, or he left and came back, or what, but he’s easily late twenties. He scowled the entire hour we were in class, and I don’t think he spoke but once. When he did though …” she feigns a swoon. It makes me glad her arm is tucked in mine because she’d probably fall otherwise. “Oh!” she exclaims. “And, to make it even better, he’s all muscle-y too. I would so totally hit that … multiple times.” Her eyes turn dreamy. “I bet he’s the type who could give me multiples too,” she nudges me with our linked arms, “if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  We all laugh as she continues to expound on his many attractive qualities. I’m just glad she’s taken the attention off what happened with Clay and me over the weekend. Her one-sided conversation takes us all the way through the line and over to a table close to the middle of the room. Scarlett and her I-need-to-be-seen personality. If any of us should wind up with Clay, it should be her. The thought sends a painful sting through my chest, but I contribute it to an after-effect from the dream-that-shall-not-be-remembered.

  We start eating, and Becca starts telling us about the guy she went home with at the party … or maybe I should say guys—plural. “OMG, guys. So, I met Chad at the party, right? He was there with his friend Logan, the guy you were dry-humping, Kat.” I’m so glad she pointed that out. I was doing so well at forgetting that part of the evening ever happened. Of course, since I still don’t remember any of it, that’s been pretty easy up till now.

  I tune back into the conversation and Becca is still talking about her night. “Then, I’m standing between the two guys, and they’re both paying all kinds of attention to me. But, when we’re all naked, lying on the bed, Chad kisses Logan! Y’all know I’m a big fan of boys kissing.” She keeps going, giving us all the details about the three-way hook up, and I’m just grateful she didn’t whip out her phone to show us pictures. She normally sends me one or five to show me what I’m “missing out on” by pining over Max. But, we’re still not further dissecting my night with Clay, so I’ll gladly listen. In fact, I’m listening so intently to her story I don’t notice anyone come up on the other side of me until an arm drops across my shoulders.

  “Hey, babe.”

  I look up to see Max smiling down at me and I push his arm off me. “Hey, Max.”

  He pouts as he looks down at me. “Are you ever gonna speak to me again?”

  I pretend to think about it for a minute, tapping a finger against my lips, and watching Scarlett glare at Max out of the corner of my eye. “I haven’t decided yet,” I finally tell him.

  “Aw, c’mon Kat. You can’t stay mad at me forever.” I don’t respond, and he begins to get agitated. “I don’t get what the big deal is.” He sounds like he’s honestly confused, but I don’t see how it’s possible. Has he paid no attention all this time? Does he not know me at all? That thought might upset me more than actually hearing him having sex with some girl.

  I turn in my seat to face him fully, ignoring the disbelieving noises coming from Scarlett and Annabelle. “Max, how long have we known each other?”

  He’s quiet for a second, then says, “A long time. Since high school, why?”

  Scarlett pipes up to ask, “Are you really that clueless? Surely you aren’t that dumb.”

  Max gives her a dirty look before turning his attention back to me. “Explain,” he says flatly.

  “There’s nothing to explain,” I hurry to interject. I’m over it with him, and I don’t need anyone telling him how pathetically I’ve mooned over him for so long. He’s never bothered to notice, and I’m not explaining it to him now. No way. I’m not putting myself out there like that. Max raises one eyebrow as he studies me. “I mean it, Max. It’s done. If you really want to be forgiven, fine. I’m over it. It’s forgotten. Can we move on now?”

  Not standing up for myself by telling him that I’ve been in love with him for years but he’s never paid even the smallest amount of attention makes me feel like a coward. What’s the point now? He’s got his new girl, so I’m going to find someone who appreciates and cares about me. I don’t need Max Mitchell for anything but friendship.

  “Now,” I say, “if that’s all, we’re getting ready to leave, and I have a paper due tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Standing, I grab my tray, prompting the other three girls to do the same.

  Max looks unsure but finally says, “Okay, but before you go, I want you to meet Sophie. Do you have time?” Scarlett coughs to cover a laugh, even though she’s still giving him a murderous look. I can’t believe he had the nerve to suggest that. What did I ever see in him?

  I don’t recover fast enough, so Scarlett answers for me. “Sorry, Max. I need Kat’s advice. We need to get going so I can tell her all about this douche I’ve had a crush on forever, but he doesn’t seem able to catch a clue so she can finish her paper.” She ignores my silent shut-the-hell-up glare, and I want to smack her. “Isn’t that crazy? He’s completely oblivious to my feelings, even though we spend lots of time together.” Max looks first at her, then me, noticing the look I’m giving her.

  I start to panic and grab her by the arm. “Okay, that’s enough. Maybe next time, Max.” Marching her forward, I leave him standing where he is. As soon as I know he’s walked back to his table, I hiss just loud enough for her to hear, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “He should know what a dumbass he is! Why didn’t you tell him? I would’ve.”

  I want to scream. “Why does he even deserve to know? He hasn’t figured it out in all this time. I don’t need his freaking pity.”

  “Oh crap, Kat. I didn’t even think about it like that.” Her face falls. “I’m sorry. I won’t tell him, promise.”

  She looks so apologetic I almost feel sorry for her. But then, I realize, he might have figured it out just based on what she said back there. Just like that, I’m ready for today to be over. I want to hide in my room with my Kindle and ignore everyone. At least I know none of the characters in a book will betray my secrets. Swear to God, I need new friends.

  We quickly dump our trays and head for the door. As we’re leaving the dining hall, I feel someone’s eyes on me. When I turn, I search the room and my eyes lock with Clay’s. He’s staring at me intently, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. I pull the edges of my hoodie tighter and barely hold back my shiver. The heat in his gaze is disconcerting. I don’t know why he looks angry, and I know my answering look is questioning.

  He shakes his head and looks away, clenching his jaw tightly before looking back at me, his expression now carefully blank. Not even a second goes by before he turns back to the table where Max is now talking to Sophie. It looks as though they’re arguing, but I can’t tell f
or sure. Instead of watching to see what happens, I follow my friends out to head for the gymnasium.

  We’re just paying for our tickets when my phone pings with a text. It’s Clay, apologizing for his brother. It’s a short conversation, ending with him asking if he’ll see me at the game. I’m not sure what to say. Is he saying he’s going to come sit with us? Or is it just an easy way to end the conversation? I sent back a “K” before putting my phone back in my pocket and following Scarlett and Becca in to find seats. We have to save one for Peyton, who texted earlier to say she had a mandatory dinner with her parents who came to town unexpectedly, but that she’d be here before the game starts.

  I see Clay come in alone, but he doesn’t search me out. Instead, he walks further up the steps to sit behind where we are and a little to the left. He sits alone, playing on his phone, until Max and Sophie show up. They walk up the steps holding hands, and the weird clench I’m expecting in my chest doesn’t come. I just feel a small twinge. Maybe getting over him won’t be as hard as I thought. I turn back to the conversation Scarlett and Becca are having as I wait for Peyton to show up.

  It’s almost tip-off when she makes her way down the row we’re sitting on, stepping over people, not giving anyone a chance to stand for her. She finally sits down beside me, blowing out an aggravated breath.

  “I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it,” I tell her, turning to study her expressionless face. I can’t really tell, but I’m assuming dinner didn’t go well.

  She shoves her long hair over her shoulder and takes off her jacket. The temperature in here is stifling with all the bodies taking up space. “I wasn’t sure I would either. God, my parents stress me out.”

  I’m hesitant to ask, but when she doesn’t say anything further, I break. “What happened?”

  “Nothing, really,” she says with a sigh. “Dad is planning to run for Mayor this year … again. They wanted to make sure I would play the dutiful daughter and show up to events with an “acceptable suitor”.” She says the words with a sneer, and shakes her head in disbelief.

  The way her parents treat Wyatt like he’s from a lower class just because he grew up in a trailer park with a single mom makes me so mad! He’s the sweetest guy ever, and he treats Peyton like a queen. “Please tell me you didn’t agree to do that.”

  “Seriously?” she asks, glaring at me. “Is there anything about me that would make you think, even for a minute, that I would agree to anything my parents want?” Whoa. Okay, granted, I didn’t think she would, but I didn’t want to assume either.

  Raising both hands, I try to calm her down. “I was just making sure, Pey. I hate that they put the two of you through stuff like this. Are you going to tell Wyatt?”

  She shakes her head. “No. What’s the point? He’ll just tell me they’re my parents and I should at least try to get along with them. He doesn’t understand that they will never accept him in my life. They’re the biggest freaking snobs ever, and only a certain bank account figure is acceptable to them.”

  “Well,” I struggle for something positive to say. “At least they didn’t bring Brad with them?” Her parents have been doing everything they can to hook her back up with her high school boyfriend. He’s a douche, and the last time they invited him to dinner, Peyton had brought Wyatt with her. To say dinner didn’t go well is an understatement. I don’t think they even lasted thirty minutes at the table before Peyton grabbed Wyatt and stormed out. The aftermath is what led to them disowning her for a while. Things still aren’t great, and Peyton got a job to help pay for the apartment she and Wyatt live in, even though he didn’t want her to.

  “Ugh. Yeah, I guess that’s progress.” She shakes her head in disgust before turning her attention to the court. “Now, enough about my asshole parents. I’d much rather watch my man get hot and sweaty.” When she sees Wyatt, her entire face lights up with her smile.

  That, right there, that’s what I want. I want to love someone so much that just seeing them from afar makes a crappy day better. I want to know, without a doubt, that there’s someone out there who belongs to me. Maybe I’ve read too many romance books and watched too many movies, but I want my own happily ever after.

  Twenty-Five

  The atmosphere inside the gym is the number one reason I play sports. Fans are cheering, the home team—us—is taunting the away team—Central Kentucky—and the team is having a fucking fantastic season. Twenty games into the season and we’re sitting at 16–4. It’s a much better season than my team had. We only won four out of twelve.

  Kat’s sitting three rows down to the right, close enough for me to see her, but since I’m sitting behind her, she can’t see me acting like a creeper. Just sitting here makes me feel like all I need is a pocket full of candy and I’ll be ready to lure girls like her to my lair. I should start practicing my leer now. She’s sitting with her friends, talking and laughing, something she hasn’t been doing much of recently thanks to Max.

  The gym is starting to fill up, and just before the game starts, I see first Peyton walk in, then Max and Sophie. I sent him a text when I sat down so he’d know where I was, so it only takes him a few minutes to find me. He doesn’t even notice Peyton walking nearby; he’s so focused on keeping Sophie with him. They climb the steps, slowing everyone behind them because of Sophie’s precarious movements. Her heels are way too high for climbing bleachers. One wrong step, and she’ll have a broken ankle. Hell, she could have a broken neck if she falls all the way down. Stupid girl.

  Once they sit down beside me, Max leans close to ask in a low voice, trying to keep Sophie from hearing, “Where’s Kat?” I nod toward where they’re sitting, and he murmurs, “Thanks,” before turning his attention back to Sophie. I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out why he’s so concerned about Kat’s whereabouts now, and why the fact that he is bugs me, but the game begins, and I focus on the court.

  The first two quarters go quickly, and the closer it gets to the end of the game, the more antsy I get on Wyatt’s behalf. He told me he was planning to propose outside the locker room, since this is where their relationship started. He’s so whipped. I figured it wouldn’t be in the middle of things. He wouldn’t want to put Peyton in the spotlight like that, plus he’d be worried she’d say no in front of everyone, and he’d be embarrassed. Guy has no clue just how gone for him she is.

  When the final buzzer sounds, the stadium, at least our side of it, erupts into cheers and celebratory screams. The Nighthawks won 97-66, which means the proposal will be the icing on a very fucking good cake. Max and I start to make our way down to the row Kat and Peyton are sitting on and wait for them to meet us in the aisle. Sure, it doesn’t make the people having to walk around the three of us happy, but they’ll get the hell over it.

  Scarlett and Becca are the first out into the aisle, and they make their way down the steps to leave room for Kat and Peyton to reach us. Kat gives Max and Sophie a wary glance, but Peyton links arms with her, pulling her down the stairs in front of us before the situation can get awkward. I breathe a sigh of relief before following them down.

  The group of us heads for the locker room to wait, and even though Peyton gives us all what the fuck looks, she doesn’t ask why we’re all following her. It takes a little over twenty minutes before the first basketball players leave, including Liam and the guys who sat with us at dinner. They know what’s about to go down, but they don’t hang around. Romance and flowery shit isn’t Liam’s cup of tea. It’s not mine either, but Wyatt’s one of my best friends, and I’ll support him in whatever, even if saddling myself with a wife at twenty-two isn’t what I want to do.

  Peyton and Kat are whispering to each other in the corner when Wyatt finally leaves the locker room. He looks a little green, and I hope he gets through this without ralphing all over his soon-to-be fiancé. When she notices him, she breaks away from Kat to rush him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She peppers his face with kisses, praising him for th
e way he played. His hands immediately cradle her ass—I’m not ashamed to admit I looked. Peyton has a nice ass.

  When he sets her down, he keeps his eyes locked on hers, and while I can’t see hers, love is shining out of his. God, that makes me sound like a sappy shithead. It’s true. Wyatt takes a few steps back, putting distance between them. Peyton’s posture changes, she’s obviously wondering what’s going on, and when he drops to a knee her hands come up to cover her mouth, and she gasps, whispering, “Wyatt … what?”

  I make my way over to stand beside Kat, who’s watching the scene unfold with eyes full of unshed tears. Wyatt pulls a small, pale blue box out of his pocket and opens it, holding it so Peyton can see the ring inside. He showed it to me just after he bought it. It’s on a platinum band, and the stone is shaped like a square. He called it “princess cut” which had me clutching my stomach in laughter. It was just too perfect. Wyatt obsessed about the size, hoping a half carat wasn’t too small. By the look on Peyton’s face, the size is the last thing she’s thinking about.

  Wyatt reaches up to take her left hand in his, her right still covering her mouth. “Peyton, it was almost exactly a year ago when you came to watch me practice, and our relationship began to change. Doing this here, in that same gym, just seems right. It’s where we began, and where we’ll begin a new chapter in our lives.” Tears start to fall, unchecked, down Peyton’s cheeks. Wyatt reaches up to brush them away with the hand not holding hers, and her breath catches.

  “P, I love you when we’re cuddling on the couch, when we’re fighting, and probably most of all, when you’re prickly. Getting close to you wasn’t easy, but the fact that you let me into your heart, that you love me the way I love you, is something I will never take for granted.” Kat starts to cry softly, watching Wyatt pledge his love to her best friend. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me. She comes willingly, placing one hand on my chest and laying her head on my shoulder as she continues to watch our friends.