You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Three

Axton

I keep drumming my fingers nervously on the kitchen table. Ever since coming here, I feel on edge as if I have to tiptoe around everything, and any step I take might be the wrong one. Bri took a chance on me by accepting our parents' wishes about my move to New York. God knows how I got accepted into Columbia. In all likelihood, my sister had to pull some strings to achieve it.

I live in the apartment right below hers so she can "help me with anything I might need". Truly, it is to make it easier for her to keep an eye on me, I am sure; the exact same reason she somehow managed to put me in her class. Nevertheless, she has no idea what I do most nights.

I wrap my hands around my coffee and contemplate calling my friends. I don't have many, New York is too much of a big city and people don't seem to care much about getting to know each other. My only friends here remind me of the ones I left home—I always seem to fit in with the rebel without a cause crowd. For all I know, that was what got me into trouble in the first place.

It's ten at night and I am flicking through the TV channels bored out of my mind. I didn't feel like going to class today so I stayed at home reading. Now, I regret not having left the house for the whole day. I need to get out of here.

"Man, what are you doing today?" I ask Zane as soon as he picks up.

"We are all going to Zachary's tonight."

I think about it. Zachary's is a posh speakeasy where all the rich troublemakers go to, young or old. What the hell. "What time should I meet you there?"

"Around midnight. We're all going: Wilder, Killian, Nicolas and he is bringing some entertainment as well," he utters devilishly.

Argh, normally the girls they hang out with are exceptionally uninteresting. Do I even care? "Yeah, sure. I'll be there," I say and hang up the phone. Two hours to kill.

As I am about to enter the shower, I recognize a voice coming from the living room. In one of my fits of rage towards the telly, I turned it off and turned the radio on instead. I didn't know what station to put, so I just left it on the college one. When the voice gets clear I finally hear her. Elizabeth is on the radio now, talking about some book recommendation and the perfect playlist to listen to while immerse in reading. This girl has talent, I'll give her that.

When I entered Bri's classroom yesterday I was anything but excited for it. First, I had taken this class in London already, and second, I couldn't see a single person that I could see myself engaging in intelligent conversation with. Briar is extremely bright and her classes are incredible, and yet here, she seems a bit stiff and not quite herself. The stepsister that I know and grew up with is funny, too smart for her own good, sarcastic to a fault and a bit overprotective.

I was sitting by myself when this girl sat by my side. I looked at her and her flowered dress, fishnet stockings and wild curly hair. Huh. She smiled at me the flirty way many girls do, and Bri said abruptly: "Miss Johnson, will you please sit next to Mr. Atkins? I believe you will make a wonderful pair for the project." The girl next to me stood up and moved next to a guy with hair just as wild as hers. Maybe Bri wants me to do this project all by myself after all.

I was deep in thought, writing and scribbling on my notebook when I heard my sister say my name—well, say "Mr. Brooks". As I looked over, she was instructing this girl to sit next to me. She was this petite girl with a big presence, and she walked like she owned the place with her high-heel boots, her platinum hair, and eyes that could brighten the darkest of rooms. The moment she smiled back at me, I decided I would be nice to this girl—as nice as I can be at least.