I Knew You Were Trouble (Troublemaker Series Book 1)

by Cassie Mae

  I think today will be the day I ask him to hang out or something. There’s a cute coffee place on the corner by Troublemakers. Or we could go to Troublemakers… do some bowling and arcading. I get a discount, and maybe I’d be super cute in my element. I have all class to decide, drudge up the courage to ask him, and spit it out in an actual formed sentence.

  I mean, I stayed up till 10:31 last night. I’m a total bad a-word.

  “What do you think?” Raina asks me, and I swivel on my stool, my eyes wide.

  “Who, me?” I look around to make sure she’s not talking to an invisible man on my head, and she lets out a tinkle of laughter.

  “We were thinking today is nude day.” She elbows Tristan. “Think our model will come in a robe or just in all his naked glory?”

  My stomach plummets to my toes. “Uhm,” I croak, “I-I thought we had to sign a consent form for nude models.”

  Her bushy brows pull in. “We did. It was a requirement for the class.”

  How do I not remember that? Oh yeah… My parents did it.

  Wait, Mom and Dad are okay with me painting a penis?

  Sweat builds in my palms, and I swipe them on my apron, suddenly not okay staring at the classroom door. He wouldn’t walk in without a robe, right? I mean, it’s a public hallway. The thing would flap around and stuff, yeah?

  I do not know how penises work.

  I barely know what one looks like.

  Why would anyone want to paint one? From what I’ve seen, they aren’t exactly pretty.

  Oh gosh, what if he has a tattoo down there? Or a piercing? Or he had like a botched circumcision? Or what if it’s super, super long?

  My breathing has gotten embarrassingly loud, enough to scare Raina and Tristan off from continuing their conversation with me.

  I can’t paint a penis. I can’t see his butt. And if he’s got that V muscle thing that leads to it… Oh gosh, there’s probably hair.

  My brush teeters out of my shaking hands and clatters to the floor. As I bend to pick it up, the classroom door swings open.

  Bare feet. Bare ankles. Bare calves. Tattoos on those calves.

  I shoot back to my stool, positioning myself so my canvas covers him from neck down.

  “Ah, Zach,” Miss Barley says, squeezing in between Tristan’s and Raina’s easels. She pulls up a cushioned chair. “In case you need a break,” she says, gesturing to the seat. “We have a forty minute session, but I don’t expect you to stand for it all.”

  My eyes burn a hole through my canvas, the jawline, long neck, and muscled chest I’ve started to paint seeming too large to paint below the belt. Maybe I won’t even need to look…

  “Class, I understand this is an unexpected surprise, but art is about taking risks, making things work, and putting a twist on the traditional.” She gives me a pointed look, and I jerk back at the twinkle in her eye. I’d probably appreciate the subtle nod to my way of painting if my palms weren’t sweating a puddle on my apron.

  “I want you to take what you’ve already painted and try to apply what our model will be showing today.”

  So… a penis. I have to paint a penis.

  “Miss Barley?” Ben asks from his spot on the other side of the room. Since I’m concentrating so hard on not looking at Zach, I see Tristan smile from behind his canvas. “I’ve painted him in pants already.”

  “Then this will be a challenge.” She grins and fixes her hair, shoving a paintbrush up into her bun. “I’m excited to see what you come up with.”

  Nope, nope… I can’t do it. Miss Barley nods to Zach, and he locks his eyes on mine, offering a small smile as he wriggles around. I imagine he’s disrobing, but my canvas is nice and huge and covering everything.

  I’m in a room with a naked man. There is no way I’ll be able to concentrate on how I’m going to ask him out if he’s naked.

  Naked.

  Naked.

  Naked.

  My heart beats wildly in my chest, and my eyes start to do that stupid watering thing, and my fingers won’t stop shaking like an 8.2 magnitude earthquake. His icy blues twinkle at me in amusement, but it ain’t amusing whatsoever. I duck behind my canvas, but his painted eyes stare at me there, too.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper at painting Zach. I don’t give a flying fart that Raina gives me the side-eye. It’s too soon to see him naked, even in the name of art. I’ve managed to avoid painting nude models in my twenty years, and I need to last a little longer. It feels too intimate of a thing when I haven’t had sex yet, haven’t even seen a penis in the flesh, or touched one… And I really, really, really, really want to date this guy, and all I’ll see is his naked body when I look at him if I—

  “How’s it coming along, Candace?” Miss Barley says, and my arm flings out for my supplies, only to dump an entire bottle of gray paint to the floor.

  “Shoot, shoot, shoot…” I mumble, rushing for the paint. I use a couple of paper plates to scoop the mess together, my brain racing and my eyes refusing to glance upward. Laughter starts to echo around me, and Miss Barley runs to the sink and pulls out paper towels long enough to reach the floor. My fingers are covered in gray, and I scoot back so my shoes don’t get attacked by the glob running toward the soles.

  Bare feet step into my peripheral, and I slap a hand over my eyes, paint slipping over my temple. Zach cannot stand naked over me. He cannot squat to help.

  “Sorry, I… I have to… I have to poop.”

  And I bolt outta there.

  ***

  The wall just outside the classroom is cold and comforting, cooling the sweat and calming my heart rate.

  I said poop to him. I think I prefer hummerflagen.

  My head hits the wall, and I stare up at the tiled ceiling. I was tempted to run all the way home, but I axed the idea. I have to see him eventually; he’ll most likely be our model for a while. If I run, I know I’ll ask Dad to put me in a different class—one where I don’t have to paint nudes—and then I’ll hole up in my innocent bubble and never see or do anything.

  I know art encompasses so many different places, people, and lifestyles. I just need to… loosen up.

  Darn that Pete.

  After scrubbing in the bathroom, I talked myself into waiting for Zach after class. I’m still going to go for it—ask him out. Maybe he’ll find my fumbling cute? And my courage to ask him out sexy?

  The click of the door jars me from my thoughts, and I push from the wall. My fingers tangle together, and my teeth find that canker sore and start toying. Group by group, my classmates file out, a few giving me grins and a few giving me sympathetic eyes. I hope they’re not upset that I bailed on cleaning. I plan on giving the floor a good scrub after asking Zach out.

  My teeth let my inner lip go, and I suck in a deep breath. My heart starts to pound again, but at least I’m done sweating.

  His beautifully robed self emerges from the room, next to Ben and Abby. They’re laughing about something, and I don’t want to interrupt, but he’s not looking my way.

  “Hey… you!” Oh gosh, I’ve brain-farted his name.

  All three of them give me a look, and I quickly shake my brain into working mode.

  “Zach. I mean Zach.” I give him a smile that probably looks like I’m constipated, but they all know I’m not. “Um… you got a second?”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he nods, waving bye to the other two. Ben snakes his hand down to Abby, and they hold hands as they exit the building. Darn, that’s too bad for Tristan.

  “What’s up?”

  I take a deep breath and internally scold myself to not botch this for the millionth time. He’s really cute, standing in a fluffy black robe, tightly secure with the tie at the hip. His bare feet poke out from the bottom, and I try not to think about how he should really wear flip flops or something in this high traffic hallway.

  “Do you have any plans tonight?”

  “Just this,” he answers with a delectable smile.


  “Did you want to get a drink or something?”

  His eyes narrow, and he gives me a once over. Am I too underdressed to go out? I mean… he’s naked.

  “You drink?”

  I blink a few times. “Oh! Um, no. I’m underage, so that’s like, a huge no no for me. Not that I judge people who do, it’s just I’m more of a follow the law type of girl.” Yikes, need to fix. “I meant like, coffee or something.”

  An amused look crosses his blue eyes, but his smile looks sympathetic rather than happy. “Look… Candace, is it?”

  I nod. At least he remembers my name.

  “You’re cute. But I honestly don’t think you’re my type.”

  Time pauses for just a second, long enough for him to dig his fingers into my chest, pull my heart out, and kick it into the trash can down the hall.

  “Uh… what?” I say, my breath catching.

  “I don’t want to offend you.” He leans against the wall with his shoulder, looking too darn handsome while he flat out rejects me. “But from what I know about you, I don’t think you’d enjoy what I like to do.”

  “Like what?”

  He smirks. “Like bending the rules.” He pushes from the wall and lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, but I figured I’d nip it in the bud.”

  “Yeah. Makes sense.” I force a smile, but deep inside I’m a pitiful human looking in the mirror and criticizing every single part of herself. I lift a shoulder. “It was worth a shot.”

  He smiles, satisfied with how I’m taking this. Maybe I should’ve gone into acting.

  “Can I walk you out?”

  “In your robe?”

  He laughs. “Why not?”

  I shake my head, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible. “That’s okay. I’ll see you next class.”

  “If you don’t have to shit instead of seeing me naked.” He winks like he’s joking, but it’s not funny.

  Heat scorches up my neck. “Right.”

  I get out of there pretty fast after that, waving an awkward and shaky bye before trying not to race to my car. When I get there, I slam my head on my steering wheel. So much for love at first sight.

  Pete

  Damn, this floor is sticky.

  My shoe lifts with a crackle, and I eye the bottom of it, wondering what coulda walked through the skating zone. Maybe a walking, talking, leaking soda bottle.

  Better take care of it. Wouldn’t want an innocent skater going through here and coming to an abrupt halt. Knowing my sister is out on the half-pipe right now, preparing for her next boarding competition makes me move a little bit faster than normal to a mop bucket.

  “No one knows how to read signs, right?” Tanner says as I drop the mop to the floor with a slop. He points to the “no food or drink” sign, puts a straw to his mouth, and takes a giant sip of his Dr. Pepper. I shake my head with a laugh.

  “Now I know how Candace feels when she works with me.” Tanner has got a huge thing for Candace, and the look of disappointment on his face when I was the one who strolled over to help him out said it all. Candace and I were scheduled at the kiddie rides today, but when Jeremy called in sick, the boss told one of us to head over to the Wheel Zone. Tanner’s always here. After about four months of trading shifts so he’d be in charge of the skaters and boarders, the scheduler just stuck him here permanently.

  I push the mop across the floor, cursing the skaters out under my breath when they roll on through my work. My normal MO is not giving two shits, but if some dumb kid gets hurt, I’ll be put on probation. Losing a couple weeks of pay is gonna put a hitch in my budget.

  “She loves working with me,” Tanner defends, tapping on his hat. “I follow the rules. Mostly.”

  “Around her, probably.” I quirk a grin and stick the mop in the water and ring it out. “Sorry you got stuck with me.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Yeah…”

  “I’m thinking of asking her out. Good idea?”

  I tilt my head back and forth, lifting a shoulder before I push the mop over the last bit of sticky floor. “Dunno. How are you with rejection?”

  He glares and then deliberately spreads his dirty shoe over my freshly mopped section. He nearly falls on his ass in the process, so karma is good.

  “You really think you’ll do it this time?” I ask once I’ve mopped his stupid mess. I click the mop into its spot in the bucket and wheel it back to the cleaning closet. Tanner’s been saying he’s gonna ask Candace out for about a month now. I’ve yet to see the guy actually take the plunge.

  “Hell yeah. Next time we get scheduled together.”

  “You know that could be a while.” He never moves anywhere, and Candace hates the Wheel Zone. Her anxiety goes through the roof with all the injury possibilities, not to mention all the people who ignore all the signs posted about no food in the area.

  Tanner sucks his drink dry, the annoying sound of air and barely there Dr. Pepper echoing before he chucks the thing in the garbage. He hops over the counter set up for the music and switches it up to some love songs. The rink gets couples skate time every hour.

  “Okay, lovebirds, time to hold hands and try not to fall on our butts in front of our crushes,” he says through the mic. I reach around and press the buttons for the darker lights for a better mood. Saturdays we get mostly preteens and high schoolers. During the week we get some older folks, which is pretty sweet. But I pray they don’t fall and bust a hip.

  Today we got lots of preteens awkwardly asking for each other’s hands, skating as far as their arms will stretch.

  A chunk of people get off the rink, and through the crowd of skaters, I find Madison with her board, sweat rolling down her forehead as she heads to the counter.

  “Brink!” Tanner says when he sees my older sister approaching. “How’s the half-pipe?”

  “Crowded.” Maddie hands me her board, and I set it on my shoulder while she glugs half her water. Her blue helmet has a dent along the side from when she wrecked last week. My overtime will for sure go to new gear for her. She’s holding out all hope for a sponsor in the near future, but it’s good to have a backup plan.

  “You should head to Granite Park,” I tell her. “Might not be as busy.”

  She shakes her head. “Went there first. With the Ultimate Board competition coming up, everyone’s trying to get practice in.”

  “Too bad we’re in the dead of winter, right?” I joke, and her eyes go wide and she nods in agreement. “Maybe I can get you some private time while we close.”

  She pushes her sweaty black hair from her face and blows out a sigh. “That’d be nice, but I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  I furrow my brow. She loves when I work Wheel Zone, especially during closing hours. We let her board until we’re absolutely ready to go home. It’s not exactly okay, but we’re rarely checked in on since Tanner knows what he’s doing. He’s sort of the unofficial boss of the skating rink and half pipes.

  “Never stopped you before,” I say.

  She frowns, her eyes meeting mine with a look like she needs to talk. A rock plummets into my stomach. What now?

  Maddie and I have lived together for three years, both of us agreeing that living under the same roof is okay as long as it’s not with Mom and Dad. Being responsible for some of the bills was required of us when we first got jobs—me at sixteen and Maddie at eighteen. That was fine, but then we started paying all of them. Dad started blowing the majority of his income on opiates and booze while Mom refused to get a job because she simply “didn’t know how to work.”

  When I graduated high school, Maddie proposed getting our own place to rent. We’d save more money splitting it between the two of us, and not to mention, it was cheaper than paying mortgage, phones, car payments, and all the other responsibilities that were on our shoulders and not our parents’. We hoped tough love would get Dad to budget better.

  It’s worked out so far, with Mom and Dad asking for money only here and there. Th
e only reason we help is because of Demi, our sister who’s still at home. She’s got a good five, six years before she’s forced to get a job and contribute. Maddie and I are hoping to talk our parents out of that if it happens, though.

  “I’m gonna take my break now,” I say to Tanner. “You got this?”

  “See you in fifteen.” He adjusts his Troublemakers cap and leans against the back of the sound booth, keeping watch on the skaters. Maddie offers a half smile at my awesome ESP, and I hook an arm around her shoulder and walk her to the break room.

  She’s technically not allowed in here either, but Saturdays are so damn busy that the managers are off doing their own shit. And if she’s caught here, it’s more or less a slap on the wrist. I clock out, and she flumps into the well-used couch. I grab a fresh water and toss it her way.

  “All right, what’s going on?” I flop onto the cushion opposite her.

  She unhooks her helmet and drops it to her lap. Her black hair is matted and sticky, her ponytail low on her neck. She slides the elastic out and runs her fingers through the damp strands. “Dad called.”

  “He need more money?”

  “Of course. But it’s worse than that.”

  My heart thumps heavy, and my spine straightens. “All right,” I say, bracing myself. “Just let me have it.”

  She lets out a hollow laugh, knowing that I’m more of a rip off the band-aid type of person. She is, too. Must be from years of dealing with bad news.

  “He lost his job. Didn’t pass a random drug test.”

  A groan crackles up my throat, and I go face first into the middle cushion separating us. Her fingers pat my head reassuringly, like the thousands of times I’ve done that for her. I honestly didn’t think he’d lose the job; they’ve kept him around for years, and despite how horrible he is with money, he’s good at what he does.

  I lift my head, her knee closer than I thought to my nose. “How’s Demi?”

  “I don’t know yet. I got the call about five minutes ago.”

  No wonder she was in a rush off the half-pipe. “I’ll talk to her.” I sit up, big brother mode trying hard to kick in. “They got any savings?”