Looking for Trouble (Nashville U Book 1) (9 page)

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.