Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7) Read online

  Copyright (C) 2021 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 Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Cover Design by Kandi Steiner

  Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

  Episode One

  Jess

  Bear

  Cassie

  Skyler

  Jess

  Cassie

  Bear

  Episode Two

  Ashlei

  Adam

  Erin

  Jess

  Ashlei

  Adam

  Erin

  Episode Three

  Cassie

  Bear

  Jess

  Skyler

  Jess

  Bear

  Cassie

  Skyler

  Episode Four

  Erin

  Adam

  Ashlei

  Jess

  Erin

  Adam

  Ashlei

  Jess

  Episode Five

  Cassie

  Bear

  Skyler

  Bear

  Skyler

  Cassie

  Jess

  Episode Six

  Adam

  Jess

  Bear

  Erin

  Ashlei

  Jess

  Cassie

  Skyler

  A Note from the Author

  Sneak Peek - On the Rocks Chapter 1

  On the Rocks Chapter 2

  More from Kandi Steiner

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Greek is the final installment in the Palm South University series, the “series finale” if you will.

  It picks up right where book 6, Hazed, left off. As this book is part of a series, you will need to read the other books in the series before beginning this one:

  Rush, PSU #1

  Anchor, PSU #2

  Pledge, PSU #3

  Legacy, PSU #4

  Ritual, PSU #5

  Hazed, PSU #6

  Welcome back to PSU… ;)

  Tweet or post while you read using #PalmSouth.

  Join the Palm South University discussion group here.

  IF ANYONE WERE TO look down upon this scene from an aerial view, they would likely remark that it’s a lovely and serene sight to behold.

  A stunning penthouse suite at a gorgeous Mexican resort, the sheer white curtains floating in the breeze, the expanded balcony with a private hot tub and plunge pool all so alluring and beautiful. The magical backdrop of a pristine white beach and turquoise water, currently reflecting the full moonlight overhead, and the distant sound of the waves washing ashore.

  From the outside, it appears to be an absolutely extraordinary slice of paradise on Earth.

  But inside?

  It’s a goddamn disaster.

  “I… I… I’m a monster,” Cassie cries to herself, snot and tears dripping down her face as she rocks herself back and forth on one of the daybeds. She sniffs, not even bothering to wipe away the mascara staining her cheeks. “How could I do that to Adam? How can I ever live with myself again?” She balked. “How do I tell him? Oh, God.”

  She covers her face and sobs even harder, and Skyler winces, rubbing her back and doing her best to comfort her Little as she falls apart.

  Erin is pacing back and forth, arms folded hard over her chest as she shakes her head over and over, tossing between murmuring to herself and screaming curse words loud enough for the entire resort to hear. Something happened to her around the same time Cassie had her meltdown, about an hour ago amidst the thumping music of the beach club, but she has yet to tell us what, exactly.

  All we know is she looked at her phone, screamed bloody murder, cried, and has been pacing ever since we all dragged Cassie back here to console her.

  Ashlei disappeared into the bathroom as soon as we got back, and for how long she’s been in there, I can only imagine she’s ralphing up the fruity shots we’ve been knocking back all night.

  And then there’s me, swiping back and forth between two pictures on my phone, each depicting a different man I love.

  Swipe.

  Me on Kade’s back, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as my hair falls over us like a curtain. His warm brown eyes are bright with love and adoration, his smile megawatt in size as he snaps the selfie.

  Swipe.

  Me and Jarrett in bed, his beast of a body encompassing all of mine as I curl my back into his chest like a cat. The morning sunlight reflects on our soft, sated smiles, and his dark eyes smolder at the camera, promising he’s nowhere near finished with the girl in his arms.

  Swipe.

  Kade.

  Swipe.

  Jarrett.

  Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

  Back and forth, over and over, I stare at those men — the men who own my heart — and feel it break at the realization that I will hurt one of them.

  That I’ve already hurt them both.

  I don’t deserve the patience they’ve given me — the space, the time. And I definitely don’t deserve their love.

  But I have it, and though I love them both in return, I know there’s no putting off the decision I have to make.

  The decision I made long before I was ready to admit it to myself, if I was being honest.

  In my daze, I don’t realize Erin is screaming and Cassie is having a full-on panic attack until I snap out of the trance my phone has me in. I close the screen and drop it to the cushion beside me, popping up and running over to Erin first.

  “It’s not fucking fair! This whole system… this whole world is fucked!” she screams.

  “Will you bitches shut up?!” Ashlei yells from inside the bathroom. “It’s impossible for a girl to poop with all this racket going on!”

  Skyler gives me a look that says she’s got Cassie, so I grab Erin’s hand and lead her to the edge of the balcony, letting the fresh sea breeze calm us both. I don’t say anything, just hold her there and smooth my hand over her arm, letting her take a moment for whatever it is that’s going on.

  She opens her mouth to say something when my ringtone sounds from the chair I was sitting on, and Erin and I both look at the screen, stilling at the sight of Jarrett’s name in bold above the new message.

  My chest caves in on itself, and I close my eyes for a long moment before I open them to find Erin staring back at me.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice just a whisper.

  Before I can answer, Ashlei clears her throat from where she’s now standing in the middle of the balcony between us all. Her hair is a mess tied loosely on top of her head, her arm still in a sling from the accident, and her face is ghostly pale.

  She doesn’t say a word.

  But when I spot what she’s holding in her hand, she doesn’t have to.

  Her eyes lock on mine, and I exhale, stomach roiling for a whole new reason. Skyler is the first to say what I know we’re all thinking.

  “Oh, shit.”

  Three Months Earlier

  OF AL
L THE BULLSHIT classes they made me take during my time at Palm South, they never forced one on me called Life After College. And only three months removed from being a student, I’m seriously wondering why that isn’t the number one required credit for every single one of us.

  I had no idea how easy I had it, even when it was hard. I didn’t realize how having classes and finals was a piece of cake compared to maneuvering the oversaturated job hunt, how partying on a school night is a hell of a lot easier than partying on a work night, or how that degree doesn’t mean shit once you actually get a job — for your salary or for your day-to-day tasks.

  If anything, there should have been a class during every kid’s last semester called Welcome to the Real World, Where You Have Student Loan Debt and a Shitty Salary and a Job You’re Not Actually Prepared for and a Boss Who Expects You To Work Double the Hours Required.

  Good Luck!

  These are the thoughts that trickle through my mind like a leaky faucet as I eat lunch out of a plastic container in the break room, staring at the calendar on my phone with the list of shit I still have to do when I go back to my cubicle.

  It had taken me all damn summer to get a job. It turned out that while I had a degree, my lack of on-the-job experience made me less appealing than those who had internships out the ass. Luckily for me, Erin helped me spruce up my resume, and Ashlei hooked me up with an unpaid internship for a couple months at her firm, working on graphics for her clients.

  With a professional portfolio finally under my belt, I landed my first paid gig — Junior Graphic Designer at Sparrow Creative, a young but hungry advertising agency downtown.

  As much as the journey to get here sucked, and as much as I’m not thrilled with the salary — even though I was able to negotiate a little higher than they originally offered — I’m thankful to be working, to finally be applying what I learned in school.

  But something is… missing.

  I thought it was sports. After all, I played all through high school and college, and now I’m a quote, unquote, adult and not a professional athlete. So, I joined a CrossFit gym, thinking that would fill the gap.

  And it has, for the most part.

  In fact, I’ve become so competitive and so knowledgeable about the culture and the training that the owner at my gym has been whispering in my ear about possibly coming on as a personal trainer or class instructor.

  For now, though, I’m content just to train and compete on my own.

  And still…

  Something’s missing.

  I could argue that it’s sex, being that Erin and I have been taking it excruciatingly slow. But that’s been my decision — mostly because I know what she’s been through, what she’s going through, and when I do take her, it’s going to be with nothing but reverence and a cherished understanding of how lucky I am to be the one she trusts to give herself to.

  Besides, we’ve been doing plenty of other things that satiate my sexual needs, including me coaching her through sucking my cock, which might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever done in my life — and I’ve had a finger up the asshole, so that’s saying something.

  If I’m being honest, that woman is so goddamn hot, all she has to do is kiss me and rub that tight little body against mine and I’m ready to come.

  So it’s not the sex, and it’s not the job, and it’s not the lack of physical output.

  But still…

  Something.

  The slam of the microwave snaps me from my thoughts, and I look up just in time to see a longing smile spread on my co-worker’s face.

  “God,” she says, shaking her head with her eyes on my food. “That looks so much better than the Lean Cuisine I have. Tell me what it tastes like.” Her eyes flick to mine. “Slowly, so I can savor it.”

  I laugh, taking the bite of salmon and asparagus I have stacked on my fork before I set it down. “I won’t submit you to such torture, Giselle.”

  She sighs. “I should probably thank you, but maybe I like a little torture from time to time.”

  She winks as I shake my head and stack up another bite. “It’s just salmon. You could easily be eating this, too.”

  “Define easily,” she says, grabbing her frozen meal from the microwave once it dings and sitting across from me. “Because someone had to cook that salmon and those veggies, and I can tell you that after a long day here?” She shakes her head, peeling the plastic wrapper back from her container. “It ain’t me.”

  I cringe at the sight of the rubbery-looking pasta she’s unveiled. “I think I’d stay up until two in the morning meal prepping if it meant I didn’t have to eat that.”

  She sighs again, stabbing the noodles with her plastic fork and twirling until she has a bite prepped. “It’s awful,” she admits. “But it’s worth every savory minute I had on my couch last night.”

  I chuckle, and we hold our forks up in a sort of cheers before both taking a bite.

  Giselle is a few years older than me, and though she’s joking about being lazy, I know for a fact that she’s not. For one, she’s too toned and slim to not be active and watching what she eats, and for two, I’ve seen her bust her ass day in and day out in this office since my first day three weeks ago.

  She’s the youngest account manager in the agency.

  And it doesn’t take more than three days of working with her to understand why.

  As if her boldly colored skirt-suits and matching high — high — heels don’t command enough of a presence when she walks into a room, her light brown skin, cat-lined eyes and painted lips certainly do the trick. I’ve never seen her onyx hair down, it’s always pulled back in a slick, tight bun, and the way she holds her shoulders square and back straight told me long before I ever talked to her that she took no shit from anyone.

  The first time I was in a meeting with her, she single-handedly saved us from losing a client the agency had been working with for three years. Not only that, but she ran through a list of reasons it was their fault that their content was under-performing, and by the end of the meeting, convinced the client to invest double what they were before in the advertising efforts.

  All without breaking a sweat.

  So, while I could understand why she might not have the energy to meal prep every night, I wasn’t foolish enough to believe she didn’t work just as hard outside of this office as she did inside it.

  “How are you feeling now that you’re a little more settled in?” she asks when she’s done chewing.

  “Great,” I say with a smile I hope is more convincing than it feels. “I’m excited to be here. I just hope my work is up to standard for the agency.”

  “You know it is,” she says instantly. “Don’t fish for a compliment when you already know.”

  I gape. “I… I wasn’t—”

  “Confidence, Mr. Pennington. That’s what turns me on. You walked in here with it on the day of your interview and every day since. I understand you wanting to taper that down a bit, be modest around someone in a higher position than you, but I’ll tell you right now that you’ll get farther here — and everywhere in this field — by owning your talent and reminding every single person every single chance you get that they can’t find that same talent anywhere else. If you’re not demanding a raise in six months’ time, you might as well quit and find a new job. Because unless you demand the respect and the pay you deserve in this career, you’ll never get it.”

  I swallow, not sure if I should be flattered or scared.

  But Giselle just lifts one eyebrow, nods, and continues eating. “Did I see you walking into BlackSheep last night?”

  I pause with my next bite mid-air at the mention of my CrossFit gym. “Yes…”

  She chuckles. “I’m not stalking you. I go to the yoga studio two doors down.” She pauses. “I’ve always been curious about CrossFit though. Think I would like it?”

  I take a breath, thankful for the subject change and the way my balls relax a little now that she’s not grilling me. “De
pends. I think if you’re athletic and like a challenge, absolutely. But it’s a little harder on the body than yoga.” I pause. “No offense. I just mean you’ll bulk up a little more, and get callouses.”

  Giselle takes a sip of her water with a slick smile on those painted lips of hers. “Oh, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

  My phone pings on the table, the vibration of it loud enough that both our eyes slip to the screen where Erin’s bright, beautiful smile reflects back — along with a text that asks how my day is going.

  I smile, feeling more like a little boy with a crush than a grown man with a serious girlfriend. Even though I know Erin better than probably anyone, and she knows me better than anyone, everything between us feels fresh and new now. Every night I spend with her is a new discovery, every conversation one I want to commit to memory, every kiss one that leaves its own permanent brand.

  I’m still wearing that goofy smile as I type back a response.

  “Girlfriend?” Giselle asks.

  “The best one on the planet.”

  When I finish the text and look at her, she’s wearing a smile laced with a million things she won’t say. “Glad you found her before you found this place,” she decides on, popping another bite in her mouth. “Because you damn sure wouldn’t have found the time or energy to date if you’d come here first.”

  I’m not sure if I should laugh or ask her if she needs someone to talk to, but I don’t get the chance before there’s a knock on the door panel of the break room, and my boss peeks his head in.

  “Sorry to bother during lunch, but can I get your eyes on this website?”

  I nod, gathering my things. “I’m finished, anyway.”

  “Great. See you in my office.”

  He ducks out, and once I’ve cleared the table, I nod to Giselle. “Nice talking to you. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

  She holds her fork up to me with a wink, and there’s something in her eyes still, like she’s assessing every move I make, every word I say.

  I can still feel her watching me even when I’m down the hall and out of sight.