“Hey guys,” Max tells Liam and two other basketball players when they sit down across from us. The guys grunt their “hello’s”, more focused on the trays of food on the table than his greeting.

Liam may be a tight end on the football team, but he’s way more valuable as a power forward on the basketball team with Wyatt, Aaron, and Luke. He’s actually the reason I met Wyatt freshman year. We started hanging out during football season, and then he started bringing Wyatt to parties when he started playing basketball. When Wyatt came back for Sophomore year, Emmett and I moved from a two-bedroom apartment to a three-bedroom and he moved in with us. Then, he moved in with Peyton last summer and Max moved his stuff into the open bedroom before anyone else got a chance to ask.

Like he knew we were talking about him, Wyatt walks up to the table and takes the empty seat beside me. “Hey douchenozzle.” He rolls his eyes at my greeting, then nods at his teammates before turning back to me.

“What’s up?” he greets the table.

I search the room, but don’t see Peyton. “Where’s your girl?”

“Ball and chain, you mean?” Liam taunts Wyatt. I shake my head. He should know better. Wyatt’s protective as hell over Peyton. But, surprisingly, he doesn’t rise to the bait.

“With her parents.” Oh shit. Even I know that’s not a good thing. Her snobby, rich-as-hell, asshole parents are not fans of Wyatt’s. Actually, I’m not sure they’re fans of Peyton if you want the truth. When I ask him why she’s there, he shrugs. “Dunno. Her mom called yesterday and said they were coming to town and her presence was ‘required’, so she went.” His brows furrow in concern. “I just hope they don’t fuck with her head, or set her up on a blind date like they did the last time they ‘invited’ her.” Yeah, that was a jerk move on their part.

Peyton’s screwed-up family makes me appreciate my own. My brothers might piss me off constantly, but I’m not one of those kids with a sob story. My parents are married, love each other, and love all of us. I never have to wonder, or worry that I’m going to piss them off to the point they’ll stop talking to me. If they haven’t stopped by now, they never will.

A french fry smacks me in the side of the face and I turn to glare at a grinning Liam. “What?” he asks, trying to act all innocent, but failing. He never looks innocent, even when he is.

“Did you just throw food at me?”

He shrugs. “Actually, I was throwing it at your boyfriend over there.”

Wyatt snorts. “Well, I hope you throw basketballs better than you do fries because that shot sucked.” I throw the fry back at Liam who catches it in his mouth. Wyatt and I both grimace at him, and he just smiles. Gross fucker.

We go back to our trays for only a minute or two before the three players’ sit up straight to watch a girl walk by. When she stops at Max’s seat and he takes her tray so she can sit, they stare with wide eyes. Again, I want to brag on my brother, and tell them I taught the boy everything he knows. Holding that in is easy when he leans over to kiss Sophie quickly on the cheek before she starts eating. The lovebirds are holding hands while they eat, which means Max is now eating left handed. He’s not ambidextrous, that much is clear.

I shake my head, returning my attention to the rest of the guys at our table, though three of them are still staring. Wyatt’s attention is focused on his phone, no doubt texting Peyton to see how things are going at her parents. I look around the room, and my eyes find Kat sitting with her friends. I can’t decide if she looks bored or uncomfortable, but part of me wants to go rescue her. What the hell? Since when did I become Kat’s knight in shining armor? That’s always been Max’s job.

I’m not the only one to notice them. Max sees them too, and stands. “Where are you going?” Sophie asks him.

“Just over there to see Kat,” He says, gesturing toward her table.

Sophie’s eyes follow his arm and when she sees the group of girls, her eyes narrow. “Maybe I should come with you.”

He shakes his head, oblivious to the hundred and twenty pounds of starting-to-get-ticked female beside him. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll bring her over to say hi after, but first I need to apologize to her. Things have been a little off between us the past couple weeks.” Sophie asks him what he means, and I try to silently tell him to shut up. I’m not telepathic, so it doesn’t work, but damn, does he have no idea how women think? “It’s not a big deal, Soph. I made her mad, and I need to make it better. I hate fighting with her.”

Gee, little brother, does the fact that fighting with Kat has you all out of sorts, but you don’t care about upsetting your current girl tell you anything? Clearly, I haven’t taught him everything. Sophie stands in front of him, her hands landing on her tiny hips, which incidentally pushes out her impressive chest. “Max Mitchell, you need to be more concerned about upsetting me, then some girl you’re ‘just friends’ with.”

Max sighs, giving her the same puppy dog look he’s been giving Kat since he’s known her. “C’mon, babe. We’re just friends. I just want to make sure she’s not still mad at me.” I can’t believe he’s now practically asking her permission to go over. She huffs, obviously not okay with this turn of events, but he takes her not saying a flat-out no to be acquiescence. Idiot.

Once he’s gone, Sophie drops inelegantly back in her seat to stare at her food. She folds her arms across her chest and sits stiffly, waiting for him to come back. I turn back to watch the drama I know is coming, and I’m not disappointed. Max walks right over and sits beside Kat, draping an arm across her shoulders. I watch Kat stiffen, feeling myself do the same. I don’t like him being so close to her, touching her, when I know she doesn’t want him to. Clenching my hands into fists, I hide them in my lap. After Saturday night, Kat has all my protective instincts—instincts I didn’t even know I had—on full alert. I want to hurt anyone who bothers her.

The conversation between them is fairly brief. It ends when she stands to leave and a short exchange happens between him and Kat’s friend Scarlett. Whatever she says, Kat pales, then walks away from Max, taking Scarlett with her. Max stares after them for just a second before his shoulders fall and he walks dejectedly back to our table. As soon as he takes his seat, Sophie starts whispering to him. They begin to argue back and forth, Sophie pissed off because Max went over there after she sort-of told him she didn’t want him to.

Ignoring the two of them, I watch as Kat and her friends head for the door. Just before they leave, it’s almost like she feels my eyes on her. She turns, her eyes meeting mine. They’re wide, guileless, she looks so innocent standing there. The fact that I want to go over and stand protectively next to her, keeping anyone, my idiot brother included, from hurting her pisses me off.

She must notice the change in my emotions, because her head tilts and the look in her eyes changes to one that questions why I’m looking at her the way I am. I shake my head, looking away quickly and attempting to calm my emotions. When I’m sure my face is a blank mask, I turn back to face her. She can read the look and knows I’m hiding from her. It makes me feel shitty enough that I turn away again, focusing all my attention back on Max and Sophie’s argument. When I finally look back, she’s gone.

Sophie storms away from the table and Max stands to go after her. Before he leaves, he turns to Wyatt and me to say, “I’ll see you guys later. Good luck at the game, Wyatt.”

“You’re not going?” Wyatt asks, surprised. We promised we’d be there. Tonight was supposed to be the night he proposed to Peyton, but now that she had to go to her parents, I don’t know that she’ll be there.

Max looks confused, so I clue him in. “Wyatt. Peyton. Diamond Ring.”

“Ohhh shit. Sorry, I forgot. I’ll try to be there, if I’m not still groveling for forgiveness.” He sighs, but neither Wyatt or I feel any sympathy for him.

Wyatt snickers. “Max, man, you should have known that was going to happen. That girl is obviously threatened by your relationship with Kat. You going over to talk to her, putting your arm around her and looking cozy doing it did not help matters.” He shakes his head, clearly pitying Max and his relationship newb status. “FYI—girlfriend comes before girl friends. Every single time.” He stands, clapping Max on the shoulder and telling him good luck before he, Liam and the other two basketball players head to the locker room to get ready.

Max leaves too, and when I see Meghan come into the dining hall, I gather my stuff up and hurry out too. A stabby ex is not on my list of things to do tonight. When I walk outside, Kat’s nowhere to be seen, and against my better judgment, I send her a text.

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

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

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.