Palm South University: Season 2, Episode 3 (Palm South University #2) Read online

  Copyright © 2016 Kandi Steiner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Kandi Steiner

  Edited by Betsy Kash

  Cover Design by Kandi Steiner

  Formatting by Elaine York/Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting

  Tweet as you read using #PalmSouth and join the Facebook Discussion Group here.

  And we’re just getting started.. - Skyler

  Cassie

  Jess

  Bear

  Skyler

  Cassie

  Bear

  Jess

  About the Author

  I WATCH AS THE WATER BREAKS around my paddle, the sun warm on my face, a slight sweat breaking on the back of my neck. Each stride pushes me farther from shore and I sigh at the instant relief I feel from being in my safe space.

  I picked up paddleboarding after my freshman Spring Break trip, but I never would have guessed it would become such a constant in my life. When we got back to campus, I started renting boards every weekend, paddling out on my own, fighting against the familiar aches in my muscles until they weren’t even affected anymore. After a few months, I bought my own board, and now I take solace in the time I have on the water, away from the world.

  There’s something about being on the ocean — the wind blowing through your hair, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of the waves on the shore — that sets you free. It reminds you how small you are while making you feel invincible all at once. It’s fascinating.

  I try not to take life too seriously, but my mind has been bogged down ever since the auction. It’s been a little over a week now, yet I still can’t shake the stampede of feelings that hit me out of nowhere that night. It was like with every flash of the camera from the reporter who ambushed me and Adam outside Ralph’s, a new thought assaulted me. What am I doing with Adam? Is it more serious for him than it is for me? What does it mean that I have paparazzi following me now? Is this the new normal or a one-time thing? Am I holding Adam back from getting the presidency? Is he holding me back from chasing my dreams with poker?

  Though I paddle for hours, none of the answers come, and by the time my feet touch sand again, my mind is still wound as tight as the sun-kissed skin stretched over my shoulders. A loud whistle brings me back down to earth and I smile when I see Jess and Cassie sprawled out in two low-sitting beach chairs just down the beach. Hiking up my board, I make my way toward them, trying not to laugh at Jess making lewd gestures the entire time.

  “You’re so sexy when you lug that board around, Sky,” Jess says, and I note the nasally tone of her voice. “Your leg muscles are sick.”

  “Are we talking sick like impressive or sick like your red nose and dark eyes?”

  Jess waves me off, flicking her sunglasses back down. “It’s just allergies. I’ll be fine.”

  Cassie scoffs and pulls her bright red hair off her neck, obviously annoyed, though that’s way out of character for her. “She’s been coughing all morning, but refuses to go to the doctor. And she hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

  “Jess!”

  “What?” She sighs exasperatedly. “It’s fine. Good for the Spring Break diet.”

  Cassie and I exchange knowing looks, but don’t push further as I unpack the towels from my beach bag, spreading them out in the sand.

  “You seem awfully sassy today, Little. What’s with the permanent frown?”

  Cassie shifts, her mouth pulling to one side. “Do you guys think I’m a good girl?”

  Jess and I pause, unsure of what the right answer is. I opt for the truth. “I mean, I wouldn’t say you’re exactly a bad girl.”

  “You’re like Snow White, is what she’s trying to say,” Jess adds.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jess shrugs. “You’re pure, innocent. You focus on your schoolwork, never really get drunk, don’t hook up with random guys. You’re straight-laced.”

  “Which isn’t a bad thing,” I add, scolding Jess with my eyes.

  “I’m not saying it is,” Jess defends. “Why are you suddenly concerned, though?”

  Cassie is chewing her cheek, eyes on the ocean. “I don’t know. I overheard someone saying that I was too much of a ‘good girl’ for something, and it got under my skin.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, it’s not a bad thing. It shouldn’t be taken as an insult.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out if that’s the way it was intended,” she says, sighing.

  “I say fuck whoever said it. And, if it were me in the situation, I’d take the opportunity to prove them wrong.”

  Cassie perks up a little. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugs. “I’m just saying if someone called me Ms. Innocent like it was a racial slur, I’d show them just how not-innocent I can be.”

  “Jess Vonnegut – Life Advisor,” I deadpan. She smirks, tossing a half-empty suntan lotion bottle at me. I catch it with ease and squeeze some in my hands, lathering my shoulders.

  “Bitch.”

  “You love me.”

  “Also true.”

  I turn my attention back to my Little, who now has an intrigued look on her face. “Oh God, I think you might have actually given her an idea.”

  “Just let me know if you need to borrow some fishnets, boo.” Jess makes a kissy noise to Cassie and we all giggle.

  “Where are the other girls?” I ask, flipping over to rest on my stomach. I have to mold the sand beneath my towel a bit to make a comfortable spot for my chest. Boobs are inconvenient sometimes.

  “Erin was supposed to meet up with the kid who bought her at the auction and I’m not sure where Ashlei and Bo are,” Jess answers. “Have you guys noticed Ashlei being weird lately?”

  “I mean, she was mugged,” Cassie says softly, reminding us all of what the entire campus was trying to forget. “I’m not sure I’d be exactly normal after that, either.”

  “Even before that, though. She seems off, like she’s hiding something.”

  “I could say the same about my Big,” I add. Jess sniffs, avoiding my comment, and I lift a brow. “Wait, do you know something?”

  “No,” she says quickly. “I’m just thinking.”

  “Well, why don’t we divide and conquer. You try to talk to Ashlei, I’ll see if I can get my Big to open up.”

  “Deal.”

  “What about me?” Cassie asks.

  “You just worry about adding some leather to your wardrobe,” Jess says and we all laugh, but Jess’ face falls quickly. “Wait. Is that guy taking pictures of us?”

  My stomach drops and I sit up quickly, my eyes scanning the beach for what Jess is seeing. When I spot a tall man, dressed in khakis and a polo, large camera strapped around his neck and lens focused on the three of us, I curse.

  “Oh my God, he is taking pictures of us.” Cassie reaches for her sundress, hastily yanking it over her head just as Jess pops up, stomping toward the man.

  “Jess! Don’t!” I jump up, too, grabbing her elbow and spinning her back around just as she yells obscenities at the man, his cam
era still fixed on us. “He’s probably a reporter for a sports network or blog. We need to get out of here.”

  “This is ridiculous. You’re a poker player and a college student, for God’s sake, don’t they have better shit to do?”

  “Apparently not.”

  We gather up our stuff quickly, making our way toward the small private beach parking lot. I check my board back into the surf shop I keep it at on our way and we all pile into Jess’ car, the man following us the entire way.

  “Is this going to happen all the time now, Big?” Cassie asks as Jess throws the car into drive, flipping the reporter off as we pull away.

  “I don’t know,” I murmur, my mind racing.

  “What are you going to do?”

  I blow out a breath. “Wear cuter bathing suits, I guess.”

  I try for humor but fail, the heaviness of the situation settling around all of us. My Little offers a sad smile before turning back around and Jess clicks on the radio, volume up full blast. Thumbing through the contacts in my phone, I type out a text to my dad, hoping he’ll know what to do.

  Jess rolls our windows down, letting the warm breeze blow through our beach-tangled hair. I drop my hand out the window, riding the wind waves, eyes blurring as the scenery races by. Something tells me this is the last calm moment before everything in my life changes, and I try to hold onto it for as long as I can.

  But just like the wind, the moment is fleeting, and I know any moment I’ll wake up in my new normal.

  I just hope I’m ready.

  THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT WATCHING GRAYSON play guitar that really gets to me. The way his hands strum the strings, each pluck so familiar to him, his rough voice rising just above the chords and combing through the warm air of Cup O’ Joe’s — it’s enough to make a girl literally swoon. His bright blue eyes scan the coffee shop as he sings, dropping to his hands every once in a while, finding mine at the perfect times — when he wants me to really hear the words he’s singing.

  I just sip my coffee and smile at him, mesmerized, wondering why in the world he picked me for his muse. It’s almost amusing how many girls fall over themselves trying to get him to notice them. They drop twenties in his tip jar, usually with their phone number, and sway their hips as they walk away. They cheer each time he finishes a song, they request Manchester Orchestra or other bands that they think might make him take them seriously, they compliment his beard or trace their fingers over one of his tattoos, pretending to be interested in the story behind them. Yet somehow, his eyes are fixed on mine, and I can’t shake how lucky that makes me feel.

  We’ve been a on a few dates, mostly dinners and movie nights, and each time I find myself falling a little more for him. We longboard for hours, talking about everything and nothing — laughing, existing. He took me to a local concert in the park downtown and we’ve even studied together, which usually involves less time studying our notes and more time studying each other. Not that I mind.

  We’re seemingly nothing alike — he’s a tattooed musician with dreams of moving to New York City after graduation and I’m a freckle-faced Biology major who passes out at the mere thought of a needle going into my skin.

  The stark contrast between us reminds me of the conversation I overheard between Adam and Jeremy the other night, and I frown.

  They were walking toward the Student Union when I spotted them and I quickened my pace, thinking I could walk with them, but when I got close enough to hear their conversation, I slowed a little at the mention of my name. Jeremy was asking Adam which girls he thought would be good for their next philanthropy event — a B-list celebrity fight featuring two older fighters who happen to live in the Miami area. They need ring girls, and when Jeremy suggested me, Adam was quick to turn down the thought.

  “She’s too much of a good girl for that.”

  I tried not to take it personally, but how else is there to take it? He didn’t say it like it was a characteristic I should be proud of, but rather like I would fail at the job. And though I’ve tried to strip Adam of the power he somehow holds over me, it still hurt to hear him say it. Add in the fact that my Big and Jess both agreed with him, and it’s been practically impossible to let it go.

  I snap my attention back to Grayson just as he finishes the last note of an X Ambassadors song, his bright smile revealing itself behind his beard, girls clapping and whistling when he blushes slightly.

  “I’m going to take a quick break, and I’m taking requests when I return, so don’t go anywhere,” he says into the mic, tossing a wink at me that makes two girls at the table behind me nearly fall out of their chair. I just shake my head.

  Grayson pulls his guitar strap over his head and props the instrument against the large metal bar stool he was seated on, hopping off the stage and making his way toward me. It’s like slow motion as he walks, the muscles in his arms shifting as he shakes out his long, chestnut hair just to re-tie it in a haphazard bun again. I stand, smiling, and he pulls me in close, pressing his lips hard on mine to a symphony of groans from the rest of the girls in the shop. He knows they’re here to flirt with him, yet he still makes it a point to show he’s with me.

  Yep, officially swooning.

  “Come to the back with me? I need some water.”

  I nod, head still fuzzy as he grabs my hand in his and weaves us through the STAFF ONLY doors to a small back room. It has two faded purple couches and one long, dark, wooden coffee table along with an old stereo currently crooning out an old 90’s alternative song I’m not familiar with. Grayson plops down onto one of the couches with a sigh, pulling me with him so that I straddle his hips.

  “What happened to needing water?” I ask, giggling.

  “I lied,” he says with a grin, hands skating up my arms to frame my face and pull me into him. His beard tickles my skin as he presses his lips to mine and I fist my hands in his shirt, pulling, wanting him closer yet knowing I’m afraid of being too close at the same time.

  So far, all we’ve done is kiss, and it’s not that our make-out sessions aren’t amazing — because that’s an understatement — but I know Grayson wants more. Hell, I want more – but after Clay, I’m hesitant to take it too far too fast. I know Grayson would never push me, but I can only wonder how much longer he’ll stick around if I keep holding out.

  Breaking our kiss, I undo his bun and run my fingers through his long shaggy hair, massaging the scalp. His eyes close and he rests his head on the back of the couch, smiling. “That feels amazing.”

  “I love watching you play. You’re really good, you know that?”

  He chuckles, his hands gripping my hips. “Thank you. Let’s hope the big wigs in New York feel the same way.” He opens his eyes just enough to wink at me before letting them close again.

  “They would be crazy not to.”

  We’re quiet for a moment, my hands still running through his hair, his fingers playing with the hem of my blouse.

  “Are you excited for Spring Break?”

  I frown. “I’d be more excited if you were coming with me.”

  “Not really my thing,” he says, pulling my hands to his lips. He kisses them with a smile and ties his hair back before letting his hands find my waist again. “You’ll have all your sisters to keep you busy. Plus, I have to work.”

  “I know. Doesn’t make me wish you were coming any less, though.”

  He smiles, blue eyes shining, the gold flecks in them playful. “You know, we could have our own Spring Break. Wear our bathing suits, grind on each other, get wasted.”

  “Oh?” I cock a brow as his grin widens. “And where exactly would we host this Spring Break?”

  “In my dorm room, of course. I’ll even put on some Skrillex for good measure.”

  “Well now you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Exactly. Can’t turn down such a well-thought-out plan.”

  “Guess not,” I agree, leaning in to kiss him. His hands tighten on my hips and he rocks me against him, causing
my breath to hitch at the contact. Grayson deepens the kiss, wrapping his strong arms completely around me, surrounding me with his warmth. He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and lets it go with a pop, fingers gliding just beneath the hem of my jeans, eyes hooded as he searches me for permission — permission I can’t give him. Not yet.

  “Can I ask you something?” I breathe and he nods, kissing me once before letting me continue. “Do you think I’m a good girl?”

  His brows furrow at my question, his hand stilling. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.”

  I laugh. “You’re not, I promise. Just be honest.”

  He blows out a breath, releasing his grip around me and leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know. I think you’re kind and sweet, and I definitely wouldn’t say you’re any of the things I associate with a quote unquote bad girl.”

  I sigh, but kiss him quickly to let him know it’s not him I’m upset with. “Are you busy next weekend? There’s a fraternity party Saturday night that everyone’s going to, and I want you to come with me.”

  “You sure I’ll be allowed? Frats aren’t exactly inviting of non-brothers.”

  “It’s an open invitation,” I assure him. “And you’ll be with me. Please?”

  Grayson hums, thinking, thumbs still lightly circling the exposed skin above my jeans. “How can I say no to those pouty lips?”

  Smiling, I lean down and press said lips to his, letting him pull me in closer for the few minutes we have left before his next set. And though having his hands and mouth on me are my main focus, my mind drifts to everything I need to do to get ready for next weekend. Everyone has it in their mind that I’m this innocent little girl, incapable of owning the vixen inside me. Well, maybe I don’t always pull her out and throw her on display for everyone to see, but next weekend, that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  Time to show them a Cassie McBee they’ve never seen before.

  One they’ll never forget.

  MY HEAD ACHES AS I BLOW HARD into a tissue, folding it in half and wiping at my raw nose again. “Gross,” I murmur, dropping it into the light blue trash can in mine and Skyler’s bathroom. Still sniffling, my dark eyes scan my appearance in the mirror. My skin is ashy white, nose like fucking Rudolph, hair greasy, eyes droopy. I look like complete shit, and regardless of how I try to act, I feel like it, too.