Clay walks beside me as we leave the bowling alley, hands in his jean’s pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. I’ve never seen him look quite as dejected as he does right now, though I know it’s not so much dejection as it is another d-word: disappointment. In contrast, I walk out with my arms folded underneath my breasts, the light jacket I wore tonight no match for the late night wind. But, while I may be cold, my head is held high. I know without a doubt that Aaron was never worth my time, and the only real reason I said yes to him—other than being almost giddy that anyone wanted to go out with me—was to get under Clay’s skin. Based on the anger I can feel simmering just below his disappointment that I disobeyed his direct order, I’ve more than succeeded.

Thanks to the cold and Clay’s silence, the walk across the parking lot seems like it takes an hour instead of the few minutes it actually takes. By the time we reach Clay’s car, I’m shivering, more from the adrenaline crash than chill in the air, but he turns up the heat as soon as the vehicle starts, turning the vents so they all focus on me. I rub my hands up and down my arms trying to warm myself since the air coming out is still cooler than the air outside, and Clay curses under his breath.

“Here,” he mutters, reaching into the back seat to grab his NU football hoodie.

Taking it from him, I push my arms through the sleeves and pull it over my head. The jacket smells like him, and I take a deep breath, letting his scent relax me. My limbs loosen, my torso melting into the buttery leather of the bucket seat, but when I drop the collar, my eyes meet his, the look in them making my whole body warm. Suddenly embarrassed, I turn my head away, though, for a few seconds, I still feel Clay’s eyes on me. Thankfully, he doesn’t tease me about it, and soon we’re heading for my dorm in a strangely comfortable silence.

Clay pulls into the first open spot closest to the front door and cuts off the ignition. As soon as he does, the interior light comes on, illuminating us both and letting me see the regret etched clearly on his face. He’s still carefully avoiding meeting my eyes, but the frown on his face and the tense set of his shoulders make his feelings easy to read. We sit in silence, and finally, I grab the door handle, ready to leave this crappy night behind me. Just when I start to open the door, he speaks. “Wait.” I still, waiting to see if whatever he’s about to say is going to piss me off or make me cry again. With Clay, it could be either. When I don’t turn to face him, he sighs heavily. “Can you at least look at me when I apologize to you?”

Shocked, I spin around, eyes wide, only able to gape at him. Clay Mitchell is going to apologize? A year ago, or even two months ago, I would have said he didn’t know the meaning of the word, but surprisingly, it really does seem like he’s changed. At least a little. Clay will never be the “nice” guy, but he is extremely loyal. Until just now, I hadn’t realized that. But now? That realization makes me second guess his reaction tonight.

The sound of him clearing his throat turns my focus back to him, and when our eyes meet, the look in his is wary. He’s worried about how I’m going to react to what he’s about to say, and after the way I treated him earlier, first yelling at him, then sobbing all over him before pushing him away, I can’t blame him. My emotions are all over the place.

Clay rubs a hand across the back of his neck and breaks eye contact with me before he says, “You were right.” If possibly, my eyes grow even wider. Not only is he apologizing, but he’s admitting he was wrong about something? Luckily, he doesn’t see my reaction to his words since he dropped his gaze because I’m sure the look on my face is comical. “I never should have interfered in your date.” His voice drops. “I’m sorry I made you feel like there was something wrong with you.”

“Oh Clay,” I start, my eyes filling with tears at his perfect apology.

He holds up a hand, cutting off what I was about to say. “I’m not done.” His eyes come back to mine, and the emotions in them confuse me. This is way more than an I’m sorry conversation, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Before I can stop him, he says, “I hate that I made you feel that way, like you weren’t good enough for Aaron. It wasn’t like that at all. If anything, you’re too good enough for any of the guys here.”

“Even Max?” The question comes out before I can stop it, and I watch as Clay’s jaw goes tight, his mouth flattening into a thin line at his brother’s name. “Never mind,” I mumble, “just forget I asked that.”

Clay looks over at me, his eyes narrowing when he mutters, “Especially Max.” I stare at him, waiting for him to expand on his answer, but he doesn’t. He quickly breaks eye contact, looking straight out of the windshield instead. “You should go inside,” he grits out, angry, but I don’t know why.

I decide not to dwell on it, and just count tonight as a win, even though it had some really sucky moments. The ending more than made up for it. Leaning over, I quickly brush a kiss on Clay’s cheek, ignoring the fact that his body goes stiff at the touch of my lips. “Good night, Clay.”

Once I’m out of the car, I pull off his jacket and drop it in the front seat before heading for the dorm. When I reach the door, I look back to see he’s still there. I realize he’s waiting to make sure I get inside safely, so I lift one hand in a wave before swiping my entry card. The door shuts, and I hear his car rev as I watch him pull out and leave. Him waiting for me to get inside is just one more thing that shows he’s not the jerk I always thought he was, at least not completely.

Thoughts of him occupy my head as I make my way up the stairs to the room I share with Becca. I reach for the doorknob, but stop when I hear her speaking to someone inside the room. “I can’t believe her, Gemma. It’s not enough that she’s doing everything she can to get with Max. Now she’s trying to jump on his older brother’s dick too?” There’s a moment of silence before she laughs. “Yeah, well, I sure wouldn’t complain about being in the middle of a Mitchell brother’s sandwich.” She goes quiet again, then, “Good point. Kat’s too goody-goody to even think of something like that. She’s probably too virginal to realize what she’s doing anyway.”

My face flames at her insult, and even though I know I should storm in and tell her off, I’m too stunned. I knew something was up with her, but I never thought she’d talk about me like this. Sure, she’s been uber protective of her phone, not leaving it alone when I’m in the room, and snickering over text conversations, but still. I thought she was my friend.

I back away from the door slowly before turning to run down the stairs. I’m standing in front of Scarlett and Annabelle’s room in only a few minutes, but I hesitate when I lift my hand to knock on the door. What if Scarlett and Annabelle feel the same way Becca does? I quickly shake off that thought. Scarlett and Annabelle both know how I’ve felt about Max … and how those feelings have changed recently. Seeing the guy you love spending all his time with someone else, not caring even a little about how watching him makes you feel, it’s bound to have an effect on you. The only good thing about it is that I’ve realized that Max truly doesn’t have those feelings for me. If I’m honest, I’m not sure the feelings I had for him were true either. If they were, wouldn’t I still be moping over him?

The door opens suddenly, pulling me out of my depressing thoughts. Annabelle jerks to a stop when she sees me. “Oh! Hey, Kat.” She smiles, but it fades when she sees the hurt look on my face. Her head tips to the side, then she grabs my hand and pulls me into her room.

Scarlett looks up from where she’s lying on the bed reading a book when Annabelle closes the door. When she sees me, she sits up, throws the book down on the bed, and hops off the bed to come over to us. “What’s wrong, babe?” Her eyes narrow as she studies me, then she asks, “Was the date that bad?” She grabs my free hand, pulling me over to take a seat on her bed. She flops down beside me, shoving her book closer to the wall, and I turn to face her. “Did Aaron act like an ass?”

“A little, but—“

She cuts me off, and shaking her head, says, “I knew he was a jerk.”

Annabelle’s mouth drops open at Scarlett’s declaration. “You knew he was a jerk, but still told Kat to go out with him? Why would you do that?” She starts pacing across the small room as she begins to rant. “God, Scar, that’s so messed up. Kat could have been hurt! You just don’t know what a guy will do when he doesn’t get his way. Especially if he’s a jerk.” Annabelle comes to a stop in front of us and leans over to poke Scarlett in the chest. “If anything had happened to her, it would be all your fault!”

Scarlett’s face pales at the accusation, and she jumps up to stand right in front of her roommate. “Whoa … what the hell Annabelle? I never would have told her to go out with him if I thought Aaron was that kind of jerk.” She turns back to me, terror in her eyes. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Please tell me he didn’t.” Scarlett studies my body like she’s expecting bruises to start popping up everywhere.

“No, nothing like that,” I hurry to reassure them both. “Aaron just went into tonight thinking I was a ‘sure thing’ and he wasn’t thrilled when he found out I wasn’t.” Both girls relax, but Scarlett goes back on alert at my next words. “Of course, it didn’t help that Clay stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.”

She drops back down beside me and leans in close. “Clay was there? Oh my God. What did he do? Did he declare his undying devotion and whisk you away?” Her eyes turn dreamy at the thought, and I have to laugh.

“Declare his undying devotion? This is not one of your books, Scar.” Just the thought of Clay doing that has me giggling uncontrollably. “You know we aren’t like that.” Scarlett doesn’t look convinced, so I hurry to tell her and Annabelle the details of my date and how Clay interfered. By the time I’m done, Annabelle is smiling, and Scarlett looks like she hasn’t decided whether to cheer for him or punch him for interfering in my love life—or lack thereof—again.

“Sooo …” Annabelle starts, “what happened after the date? How’d you get home?”

Looking between the two of them, I decide to keep Clay’s apology just for me, but I do tell them, “Clay gave me a ride.” They both squeal in delight, but my attention is taken by the vibration of my phone. I pull it out of my jacket pocket to see the object of our discussions name on the screen.

Yeah right. I would be if my roommate weren’t in our room talking shit about me. Not that I’m going to tell him that.

I laugh, prompting my friends to turn their attention back to me. “Who’s that?” Scarlett asks, studying my face. “Is it Clay?” I nod as I send back a reply.

A few minutes go by without a response, and my eyes are glued to my phone as I watch the dreaded dots pop up and dance while he’s typing before disappearing again. By the time his message comes through, I’m ready to yell at the screen.

The message is only a few words, and Scarlett asks exactly what I’m thinking. “All that typing and that’s all he said?”

“You’re going to meet him right?” Annabelle has a goofy smile on her face, like she’s expecting Clay to do some big declaration of love.

I shrug. “Maybe?” I look between them, trying to figure out if I should.

Scarlett gets tired of waiting for me to make a decision, and while I’m distracted, she grabs my phone and sends a message back.

“Scarlett!” I shriek, but she just grins at me, completely unrepentant.

Annabelle claps her hands, a huge smile on her face as Scarlett stands, pulling me off the bed and dragging me to the door. She keeps hold of my hand until we get to the main door. The three of us stop when we see Clay standing just outside. He’s turned away from us, holding the hoodie I dropped on the passenger seat of his car in one hand, the other shoved in the pocket of the jacket he’s wearing. Scarlett lets go of my hand to push open the door, then gestures for me to walk through.

Clay turns to face me when I walk outside, the cold air immediately making me shiver. He passes over the hoodie with a smile, waiting for me to pull it over my head. It’s even bigger on me now that I’m standing, covering almost as much as the dress I’m wearing. I walk beside him as he heads back to his car, stopping at what I now think of as my side. He opens the door and waits for me to get in before shutting it behind me. I watch as he walks around to the driver’s side, and when he gets in, I can’t wait any longer to ask, “Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t ask for further clarification. Normally, I’d think it’s way too late to be going to his place, but considering it’s only been about forty-five minutes since he dropped me off, and I don’t want to be anywhere near my room and Becca, I’m not complaining.