Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1)

by Stacey Mosteller

  “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?”

  I’m a little surprised she gave in so easily. I expected more of a fight. It throws me off a little, and I say the first thing that enters my head. “How ‘bout right now? We can brainstorm over an early dinner.” Kat’s face scrunches into a frown, and I know she’s about to turn me down. “C’mon,” I cajole, “I’ll buy.”

  She agrees once I offer to pay for dinner. I’ve now sunken so low, I have to pay a girl to spend time with me. I must be losing my touch, although with Kat I’m not sure I’ve ever had one. I don’t even know why I’m trying to get her to spend time with me. I should just let her do the project on her own and take half the credit. It’s what I’d normally do. Something tells me Kat will never go for that, and there’s no way I can charm her into it. She’s immune to the huge … amount of game I have.

  We walk out of the classroom to find Max waiting for us at my car. Kat sighs and mutters under her breath. “Well, hello, deja vu.” Max waits for us to walk over to him and then smiles at Kat.

  “Hey babe,” he greets her, bending to kiss her cheek. She moves back, leaving him to kiss air. I snicker at the shocked look on his face. Wow, He really expected her to let him touch her. Idiot.

  Her step backward brings her close enough for me to feel her body heat. There’s barely an inch between us, and again, I react to her. Kat Fletcher is not a girl I should be reacting to on any kind of sexual level. She’s the exact opposite of the girls I like. I like easy to please and ready to play, not difficult and commitment-ready.

  “I’m not your babe, Max. My name is Kat. Not babe, not honey, not sweetie. I’m not some disposable girl you can just cast aside when you want to get laid and then pick up when you’re finished.” She has her hands on her hips as she glares at Max and we both stare at her in shock. This is a side of Kat I’ve only ever seen directed at me. Kat’s usually all sweetness and light when it comes to dealing with my brother. It’s good to see her not only standing up to him, but him seeing that she’s not going to sit back and let him
treat her like shit. I almost tell her “good job,” but I’m afraid she’ll turn on me. Her claim that his actions are somehow my fault have begun to work their way into my subconscious. Until the other night at my parents’ house, I’d never given much thought to how both of my younger brothers might respond to my actions. If I’m the reason he thinks it’s okay to treat her this way, I sorta want to apologize to them.

  Max steps forward, holding his hand out to her. He looks contrite, his eyes downcast, and a frown pulling at the side of his mouth. “Kat, come on—“

  She cuts him off. “Come on what, Max? I told you the other day. I don’t want to stop being friends, but I need some space. You need to let me be angry, and showing up out of the blue like this only proves how little you care about what I want. You’re always blowing me off, and I’m always quick to forgive you.” She pokes herself in the chest, prompting both of us to look at her tits. “I’m tired of being your back up plan.”

  She has a nice rack.

  “I deserve better than this, better than you,” she tells him.

  Ouch. That had to hurt.

  Max stares at her; his mouth dropped open and his eyes comically wide. I take a step around Kat to get to my car and stop in front of him, standing so he can still see Kat and she him. With one finger, I close his mouth. “You’re gonna catch flies little brother.“

  Kat groans in disgust before she pushes by both of us to get in my car. “If you two are done, let’s go, Clay. I’m hungry, and you promised me dinner.” She takes a seat in the car and slams the door hard enough that both Max and I flinch.

  Placing one hand on Max’s shoulder in commiseration, I squeeze hard. “See ya later, little bro. You heard the lady.” I walk around the car to the driver’s side, shaking my head at his stupidity. He should have just apologized. If Max had brought her flowers or some shit and said he was sorry, she probably would’ve forgiven him, but instead, she’s leaving with me. Hell, maybe he’ll clue in if he thinks he’s in danger of losing her to me. That thought doesn’t sit well with me, but I don’t know why.

  Kat studiously avoids looking out the window at where Max watches us forlornly. As I put the car in reverse, I raise a hand and wave at him before putting my arm around the back of Kat’s seat, turning to watch the road as I back out. When I turn back, Max is gone, and Kat is holding herself even more rigidly in the seat. I sigh. Dinner’s going to be so much fun.

  Kat

  The entire ride over to Ruby’s, this awesome little diner close to downtown Nashville, I try to figure out why I agreed to this. I’m willingly spending time with Clay Mitchell. Well, I don’t guess it’s technically willingly. We have to work together, which means I have to be around him.

  When we walk into Ruby’s, I take a deep breath, breathing in the smells of home-cooked food. The majority of the food I eat is from the campus dining hall, even though my parents would gladly let me come home for dinner each night. I love them to death, but I like spending time with my friends too, and we’re experts at dining hall or dollar menu fare. Ruby’s though, is this little fifties-inspired diner, fitting with today’s lecture on the music of that decade. It’s got red vinyl booths, Formica tables, and exposed brick walls that match the exterior. My dad used to bring Anna and me here on teacher workdays when we were small, and let us eat at the counter that sits along one wall. We were fascinated, watching the cooks make food and the waitresses pick up plates.

  I follow Clay over to a booth close to the back that’s far enough out of the way we won’t be interrupted by people sitting down or getting up to leave. I take a seat across from him. A waitress in a red “Ruby’s” shirt and poodle skirt comes over to take our orders. Surprisingly, he orders the same patty melt and chocolate shake that I did. It’s weird having anything at all in common with him. As soon as she walks away, I grab my notebook out of my bag and open it to a fresh page.

  “Do you have any ideas as far as what you want to do the project on?” I look up at him expectantly, sure he wants me to pick something, but giving him the chance to at least suggest a topic. It will most likely be “The best way to get laid while on the road” or “Groupies aren’t for long-term relationships.” Something sexual and chauvinistic.

  I’m still dreaming up ridiculous ideas when he tells me his thoughts. “I was thinking, since the class touches on so many aspects of Rock music, even punk rock.” He stops, and when I focus back on him, he looks uncertain, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Anyway, so I was thinking maybe we could do something that will tie in Nashville with Rock. You know, since this place is all about the country stars. There are lots of artists crossing over from Country to Rock these days. We could focus on the differences between artists who are solely ‘Country’ and artists who have more of a Rock sound.”

  He continues to expand on his idea, but I can only look at him in shock. This is so not the Clay I’m used to. The Clay I knew in high school was all about the partying, about doing the least amount of work possible, or paying someone to do the work for him. He didn’t even do his own senior project. He paid someone to write the paper and put together the notecards for him so that all he had to do was turn it in and do the oral presentation. Now, I see a different side to him, one that’s older and more focused. I have no idea what to do with that.

  Our conversation is interrupted when the waitress brings over our food. Clay digs in immediately, taking a bite so large I don’t know how he will close his mouth to chew. Not counting the chipmunk cheeks he’s currently sporting, I realize he’s extremely attractive.

  The moment is broken when one of the waitresses walks by wearing a tight Ruby’s t-shirt and a skirt so short it barely covers her ass. Clay immediately hones in on her bare legs and immense cleavage. He’s no longer paying any attention to me, and I know I should look away, but I can’t. He notices me gaping at him and asks, “What?” The smallest hint of red colors his cheeks as he smiles sheepishly at me.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.” I’m not about to tell him I was thinking you were hot, but then you acted like your gross self, so I’m good now. Clay shrugs, then goes back to his food. I pick at mine, my thoughts totally jumbled. I’m so confused right now. I loathe Clay, always have. The first time I met him, I may have thought he was good looking, but then he opened his mouth and made a smart-ass comment about his brother getting his first piece of ass. I wanted to run out of the room, mortified beyond belief. My shyness when I was around him and Max is what led to him calling me Kitty Kat. He told me I was like a kitten, too small and afraid to fight back. From that moment on, our mutual animosity was born. The guy acts like I’m this weak little girl, and I’m not. That’s not who I want to be. Yes, I can be shy, but I’m not a doormat.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard over there.” His voice startles me, and my eyes dart up to meet his curious ones. He’s studying me way too intently.

  My skin suddenly feels stretched too tight. I need to get away from him before I make a complete fool of myself. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I just realized I told Becca I would meet her to go shopping after class. We’re going to the party at Sigma Phi Saturday night.” It’s not a total lie, we are going shopping. We just made plans to go tomorrow afternoon since we both only have morning classes.

  Clay starts to laugh. “You’re going to a frat party?” I roll my eyes, but he continues, saying condescendingly, “Kitty Kat, you don’t fit in with frat boys.” This is the Clay I’m used to, the one I’m comfortable with, the one I hate.

  I narrow my eyes and stand. “Thanks, asshole.”

  “Wait,” he grabs my hand, stopping me from walking off. I could jerk my hand out of his grasp, and I should, but for some reason I wait to see what he says next. I don’t expect an apology, and it’s a good thing because he sure doesn’t give me one. “I just mean that frat guys are assholes and they’re only looking for a good time.”

  “Your point?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.

  He shrugs, “Just that you’re not a
good time girl. You give off an I’m a virgin, buy me a house with a white picket fence, two point five kids and a dog vibe. You’re the type of girl those guys run from.”

  I’m so offended, I can only stare at him in disbelief. He goes back to his food, clearly expecting me to relax and sit back down, but I want to punch him in his junk. I would, if I wasn’t afraid to touch what I’m sure is a massive case of crotch rot. And to think just a few minutes ago I thought he was attractive. I should be thanking him for reminding me just why I should never allow myself to be even the least bit attracted to him. He’s the worst kind of asshole.

  “You’re wrong,” I tell him, leaning in close. “I’m not a virgin. And, you know what? I’m absolutely down for a good time.” He shakes his head, chuckling, and I. See. Red. Without a thought, I pick up my half-empty milkshake and dump it on his head before turning to leave. I look back just before the restaurant door closes to see Clay staring at me, retribution in his eyes, while chocolate milkshake drips down from his hair onto his face. I smile sweetly as I give him a finger wave. I should give him the finger, but I’m classier than that.

  Clay

  It’s Saturday night. One of two frats on campus, Sigma Phi, is having a party. After this week’s drama, I’m more than ready to chug some beer and tap some ass. Not to mention ignore the fact that Kat said she was going. She and Becca were talking about their outfits outside History of Rock yesterday. I had to resort to running through more football plays to stop myself from getting hard when she was describing what she was planning to wear. I know she was doing it for my benefit considering the way she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she was speaking.