Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1)

by Stacey Mosteller

  “I’m not a stalker, Kat.” The words come out harsher than I meant them to, but her calling me a stalker hits too close to home right now. “I know you’re pissed at me after the other day, but I need to explain. There’s shit you don’t know, and even if telling you means you’ll hate me, I have to do it.”

  She looks shocked, her breaths coming faster and the pulse on her throat thrumming noticeably. “What are you talking about?” she asks warily. “You can’t just follow me around campus waiting for me to talk to you. There’s no law that says I have to.”

  It’s times like these I remember how young she and Max are. Just that last sentence makes her sound like a kid. You can’t make me. That’s what it sounds like she’s saying, and yeah, I’m only a few years older, but when she acts that way, it seems like so much more. Of course, I feel like I’ve aged a decade in just the past few days. My guilt is that strong. “C’mon Kat. Can we please be adults about this?”

  “Sorry,” she says, drawing herself up, so she’s standing tall, and putting one hand on her hip. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” The hell?

  “Nope,” she says, popping the “p.” “I’m done adulting for the day.” God, she’s such a smartass. “Besides, why does it matter to you if we’re not talking? I’m only good as a piece of ass, remember? That’s all a guy would want me for right?”

  The sarcasm in her voice is heavy, making me want to either strangle her or kiss her. I can’t decide which I want most. She’s insane if she thinks that’s all she is. I’m not sure what I mean to say, but what comes out is, “In case you’ve forgotten, we have a project we’re supposed to be working on.” I immediately want to take the words back, but that’s not possible.

  I’m expecting her to slap me, or punch me, anything to show how pissed off she still is about our fight and the way it looks like I’m ignoring that it happened. Instead, Kat tilts her head, just watching me. The longer she stares without saying anything, the more uncomfortable I become. I run a hand across the back of my suddenly aching neck, then ask, “Wait. That’s not what I meant—”

  Kat narrows her eyes as if in thought and bites down on her bottom lip, drawing my attention to it. She looks equal parts pissed off and afraid of what’s going to come out of my mouth next. “Oh? Then what did you mean, Clay?” Shit. This whole conversation is a fucking train wreck. I’m not explaining myself well, and she’s not in a forgiving mood.

  I turn to where I left Liam sitting against the wall, but he’s gone. Wonderful. Rage overwhelms me at the realization that the stupid bastard ditched me. He’s such a motherfucking pussy he ran the first chance he got so he wouldn’t have to come clean to Kat. “Dammit,” I mutter vehemently under my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Even pissed off at me, Kat sounds genuinely curious about what’s bothering me.

  When I look up, she’s still staring at me, but instead of the narrowed look she was giving me before, her eyes are softer. She looks more approachable with her hands in her jacket pockets, and her shoulders relaxed instead of taut the way they were just a few minutes ago.

  “Liam’s gone,” I tell her, gesturing to the spot he was sitting in earlier.

  Her brows furrow. “Um, okay?”

  I hate explaining shit, and I really hate having to be the one to tell her about the stupid rumors. There’s no way I can tell her this and look her in the eyes, but I don’t want to turn away either. If I do, I won’t be able to see her reaction, which means I won’t be able to stop her imminent freakout. I’m being pulled in two very different directions right now.

  “Okay, look. I have to tell you something, something I should have told you Tuesday, but …” I’m unable to admit I chickened out. She continues to look at me questioningly, and with a sigh, I finish telling her. “Dammit. I wanted Liam to be the one to tell you this, but he’s a fucking pussy.” Her spine straightens, and even though she hasn’t physically moved back, it feels like she’s suddenly miles away from me. “Fuck it.” I’m just going to say it. “Liam,” I spit his name out, “has been telling everyone he sees that the night I took you to my apartment, we slept together.” There’s an audible gasp, and I hold her stare. “I’m so sorry, Kat. I knew he assumed it, and I didn’t correct him. I swear though, I had no idea he was going to run his mouth. If I had, I would’ve shut that shit down in a heartbeat.”

  I watch her eyes turn glassy with tears, and can’t stop myself from reaching out to pull her into my arms. As soon as my arms close around her, Kat brings her hands up to push against my chest, and I let her shove me away. “You let him think we had sex?” she hisses, her eyes turning a darker shade of brown with her anger. “What the hell, Clay? Why would you do that?” I start to apologize again, but she cuts me off. “That’s what you meant when you said Aaron was only asking me out because he thought I’d sleep with him, isn’t it?”

  I nod, unable to deny it, and she shuts her eyes, a single tear escaping from each eye. Watching them travel down her cheeks makes something in my chest hurt. “Kat,” my voice is rough, and I take a step forward.

  Her eyes pop open, and she takes a step back. “Don’t,” she snarls. “Don’t come near me. I can’t believe you!” She stops, narrowing her eyes before she says something that hurts me. “No, you know what, that’s a lie. I can absolutely believe you would let your buddies think you screwed me while I was drunk. I bet you do that all the time, don’t you? Exaggerate your conquests to make yourself look better.” Her eyes flash with a combination of anguish and rage. “You’re pathetic, Clay Mitchell. Completely, utterly, pathetic.”

  “Kat, please—“

  She turns away from me. “No. Leave me alone, Clay. Right now? I can’t even look at you. Congratulations. I thought the things Max said were bad. What you did? So much worse.”

  I can’t take the things she’s saying. Kat is normally this sweet, mousey, little girl, but the things she’s saying? They eviscerate me. Before I can analyze why, I grab her by the hand and pull her behind me into the room she left just a few short minutes ago. A quick glance confirms that it’s empty, and I put my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back, so she’s right up against the wall with nowhere to go.

  “Listen to me, please,” I beg. “I swear to God, Kat, I never meant for any of this to happen. I honestly thought if I just ignored the crap Liam was saying, he would shut the hell up and move on to something else. If I had known he would start spreading rumors, I would have beat the shit out of him first.”

  She’s still glaring at me, but it’s impossible not to hear the sincerity in my voice. I’ve never meant anything I’ve said more than I do right now. “I’m going to make this right, Kat. I promise.”

  “Yeah? How are you going to do that, Clay? Are you going to tell Aaron the truth?”

  Aaron? She’s still hung up on her date with him? “Uh,” I start to say something, but it gets strangled in my throat. I clear it, then as much as I don’t want to, I tell her, “Yeah, if that’s what you want me to do.” I already tried to do that once, but if it will make her forgive me? I’ll tell that dick licker a hundred times until he gets it.

  The devious expression on her face worries me. I understand why when she pushes up on her toes, so our mouths are almost touching, and says, “You better. I’m meeting him for dinner tomorrow at seven. You have until then to make him understand.”

  “Wait. I just explained why he asked you out, that all he wants is to feel the inside of your pussy, and you’re still going out with him?” Kat shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I am.” A smirk crosses her face, one that sends a shiver down my spine. “Look at it this way, Clay. If you don’t convince him, he just might talk me into sleeping with him. He can be my rebound … from you.”

  I freeze at just the thought of her fucking him, and it gives her the opening to duck under my arm and out the classroom door before I recover. What the hell just happened?

  Kat

  By the time I knock on Scarlett’s door, I’ve
worked myself up so much I don’t know how there isn’t steam coming out of my ears. The nerve of that jerk, acting like the only reason Aaron would ask me out is because he thinks I’m easy. That says more about what Clay thinks of the girls who sleep with his manwhore self than what others think of me.

  My knock is much harder than usual, and the door opens slowly to reveal a wide-eyed Annabelle. “Oh,” she says softly, her voice shaking slightly. “It’s just you.” The relief in her voice is noticeable, and I immediately feel like a jerk for frightening her.

  “Sorry. I guess it sounded like I was trying to beat the door down, huh?” I look down at my sneakers, embarrassed, and even angrier at Clay for making me act so thoughtless. Annabelle giggles quietly, and the tautness in my spine disappears. I must not have scared her too badly.

  “Is Scarlett here?” As much as I like Annabelle, I’m so much closer to Scarlett. Peyton’s my BFF, but now that she has Wyatt, she’s all rainbows and unicorns when it comes to relationships, and right now, I need a reality check.

  Annabelle frowns, shaking her head, her eyes still too wide, looking more like an anime character than a real person. “She went to pick up a pizza.” Biting down on her lip, she considers something, then says, “You’re welcome to come in and wait for her. I’m sure there will be enough to share.” She steps aside, gesturing for me to walk in, and I take a seat in Annabelle’s desk chair while she sits on the bed, her back up against the wall like she’s afraid someone will come at her from behind.

  We don’t say much while we’re waiting, but it’s not an awkward silence. Annabelle is naturally quiet, and it takes a lot to get her talking. Actually, unless it’s just me, along with Peyton and Scarlett, she clams up, especially if one of the guys is around. She’s only semi-comfortable with Wyatt, and that’s probably because he’s one hundred percent devoted to Peyton.

  Only a few minutes go by before the red and black tornado otherwise known as Scarlett bursts into the room, music blasting from her earbuds, a pizza box in her arms. Seeing me in the room doesn’t even slow her down. With a quick smile and a, “hello,” she rushes over to her side of the room to set the pizza down on her desk. She rubs the length of her arm from wrist to elbow, distributing the warmth from the steaming box before rising up on her toes to grab paper plates off the top of the hutch she brought from her desk at home.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, handing me a plate holding a slice of pepperoni, mushroom, and onion pizza before laying another on Annabelle’s mattress.

  I concentrate on picking the mushrooms off my piece and piling them on the side of the plate. Ugh, I hate mushrooms. They’re my least favorite vegetable. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Scarlett grab herself a plate, then sit cross-legged on her bed. I don’t know how she sits comfortably like that. Her black pants are wide-legged and baggy, but today, she’s practicing her punk rock look, complete with chains hanging from her pockets and a gray, long-sleeved Henley with a sugar skull design right in the middle of her torso.

  She waits patiently for me to answer, and knowing she’ll wait all night, I sigh, uttering one word she’ll completely understand. “Clay.”

  One dark brow raises, and she gives me a sardonic look. “Oh jeez. What’d he do this time?”

  I try to hide my smile, but I’m unsuccessful, so I don’t even attempt to stop the bark of laughter that comes out of my mouth next. “An easier question would be what hasn’t he done.” Setting my plate of uneaten pizza on Annabelle’s desk, I lean forward and tell Scarlett about the conversation/fight with Clay earlier. The more I say, telling her about how Clay didn’t correct anyone who assumed we’d slept together, and why Aaron asked me out, the wider her mouth drops open. Her eyebrow drops down, and she huffs in annoyance.

  “What an asshole,” she fumes. “I can’t believe he thought that was okay. He better clear up that misunderstanding, or he’s going to find himself on the wrong end of a high heel.” The visual makes me laugh harder. Scarlett is a study in contradiction. Her major is music education, and she never dresses the same way from one day to the next. Today she’s dressed all emo, but tomorrow, she could be wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or a short skirt and revealing shirt. I don’t get the chance to dwell on her weird outfits because the expression on her face changes in a way that makes my pulse speed up. She looks over at me, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth, worry filling her eyes.

  I straighten in my seat, not sure I want to know what she’s thinking, but I still ask anyway. “What is it?”

  Scarlett looks away, and I follow her gaze to where Annabelle is picking at her food. “Should I tell her?”

  “Um, what? Now you have to tell me!” I look between the two of them, and I know they’re having some sort of silent conversation. The waiting makes me crazy, and I ask again. “C’mon Scarlett, if it’s something about me, I need to know. I don’t want any surprises.” Oh God. What if Clay’s right? Has she heard something?

  She turns, meeting my eyes, her own full of worry. “Kat,” she says gently, “have you noticed anything weird lately?”

  Weird? “Like what?”

  Her easy tell is playing with her hair, and I watch as she pulls her hair out of the two braids she’s wearing them in today, running her fingers through them as she thinks. I want to scream at her, to force her to continue, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable saying anything to me, so I wait, even if it’s impatiently. Finally, a resolved look crosses her face, and she slumps slightly, putting her hands in her lap and linking her fingers. She looks down at them instead of at me, and her voice is apologetic when she finally speaks. “There are a couple rumors going around campus … about you and Clay.”

  I relax, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I just told you. Clay said he didn’t correct Liam when he said something about us sleeping together. That’s his whole reasoning about why Aaron asked me out.” The duh in my voice in implied. “I literally just told you that.”

  Scarlett shakes her head. “I’m not talking about Clay not correcting dumbass Liam.” She raises sad eyes to mine. “This is so much worse. I’m almost certain if Clay heard these rumors, he’d beat the shit out of anyone he heard spreading them. And if he didn’t, Wyatt definitely would.”

  “Okay, now you’re starting to scare me.” I look over at Annabelle, who’s staring intently at her plate of food, not meeting my eyes. My heart is racing, my breath coming in fast pants as I begin to panic. “Just tell me whatever it is.”

  Scarlett sighs in resignation, her shoulders slumping further. “Okay, but, just, don’t shoot the messenger.” I know it’s going to be awful before she continues. “I heard a couple of people today talking about how you threw yourself at Clay during that frat party, and he had no choice but to take you home with him.” I stare at her in disbelief. This is the rumor she’s so upset about? I start to make a smart aleck remark, but then, she takes a deep breath. “That’s not the worst one, though.” Oh no. I can tell by the tone of her voice it’s going to be bad. My hands start to shake, and I try to regulate my breathing. It feels like I’m about to have a panic attack. Scarlett leans forward, grabbing my clammy hands with her own and keeps her eyes locked on me. “You have to stay calm, babe. Once you know, we can figure out where to go from here, okay?” I nod, barely hearing her words.

  “Just tell me what the rest is.” My voice comes out sounding dead, but breathy. It’s an odd combination.

  She clears her throat. “Kay. You know I have your back right?” Not waiting for me to reply, she says, “So, of course, I went up and started setting them straight. No one’s gonna talk shit about one of my bestie’s and get away with it.” Her vehemence makes me smile. “I told them they were assholes for even spreading rumors, but one of the girls turned to me with a smirk and told me that from what she’d heard, it wasn’t a rumor. God. She was so smug! I wanted to punch her in the throat.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I told her she was a damn liar, and she handed me her phone. Kat … there were
a bunch of texts about you and Clay. Texts from someone who is clearly delusional. They said such awful things—that Clay roofied you, that you screwed him to get back at his brother, to make Max jealous. One even said that you screwed both brothers … at the same time.”

  I can only look at her in shock. I try to ask who sent them, but my voice just doesn’t work. She gets up quickly and grabs a bottle of water from their mini-fridge, shoving it into my hand and removing the lid for me. Without thought, I choke down large swallows of the cold liquid, but I still have to clear my throat before I can speak. Even then, my voice is gravelly when I ask, still shocked, “They said what?” By the last word, I’m shrieking. Scarlett winces at the sound but holds my wide-eyed stare. “First, Clay can be an asshole, but he doesn’t need to roofie girls to get laid.” Scarlett and Annabelle both nod in agreement. “And second, I would never have sex with someone to get back at someone else. Gross.” At first, I can’t even find words to describe how much the third rumor freaks me out. In the end, that’s what I say. “As far as the third rumor, just ew. That’s so gross. Isn’t sleeping with brothers at the same time some sort of incest?”

  Scarlett snickers. “Uh, only if you’re their sister, or they’re having sex with you and each other.” Her eyes take on a dreamy look. “Oh man, can you imagine? Those two are so hot alone, but together? They’d melt the sheets.” Annabelle’s crinkled brow and pursed lips probably mirror my own when we look at each other.

  “You’re such a perv,” Annabelle tells her, shaking her head.

  Sitting up straight, Scarlett points a finger topped with a black-painted nail at her. “Oh, don’t give me that. You forget, Belle. I was there when Peyton showed you that one gif—you couldn’t take your eyes off those twins. Remember? We were hashtagging everything with ‘twincest for the win’ for weeks.”

  I watch Annabelle’s face turns bright red before she looks down at her plate. “Whatever,” she mutters, sounding horrified that Scarlett reminded her of something she’d rather forget.