Palm South University: Season 2 Box Set Page 12

  “What are you doing?”

  “You don’t need to eat that processed shit if you’re sick.”

  “It’s just a sinus infection.”

  Setting the can back on the shelf with more force than necessary, Jarrett takes a breath before turning to face me. “Don’t argue with me right now, Jess.”

  I swallow.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

  “Is this why?” he asks, his expression pained.

  “Mostly, yes.”

  “Mostly?”

  Ugh, this is the last thing I want to do right now. I was so close to soup and Netflix.

  Jarrett runs a hand over his bald head before grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, not really minding as long as I can have this view of Jarrett’s tight ass in the basketball shorts he’s wearing.

  “We’re paying for your script, going to a real grocery store, and then back to my place.”

  “Wait,” I interrupt, tugging my hand out of his grip. “Jarrett, I’m sick. I don’t want to…” I trail off. How do I say this lightly?

  Hey Jarrett, can we lay off the fucking until I can breathe through my nose again? Kay thanks.

  “We’re not going to,” he says as we reach the counter, taking my script from my hand and plopping it down in front of the cashier. She’s a student, probably a senior, with dead eyes that light up just marginally when she sees Jarrett.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jarrett pays for my script and then grabs my hand again, leading me out the door without another word.

  I’VE BEEN IN JARRETT’S APARTMENT several times — hell, it’s practically the only place we can hook up outside of his truck or my car or some random public place. I’ve slept over, we’ve made breakfast together — but no matter what, it always began or ended with fucking each other senseless.

  So being wrapped in his goose down comforter on his couch, homemade soup in hand while he finds a movie on Netflix and pulls me close to him, I’m a little uncomfortable.

  My appetite has been virtually nonexistent for weeks now, but when I take the first bite of Jarrett’s homemade potato soup, I moan at the creamy deliciousness.

  “This is amazing,” I mumble around my next bite. “Thank you.”

  “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

  I pause, spoon halfway to my mouth. “Really?”

  He nods. “She, uh,” he pauses, sniffing. “She gave me the recipe before she passed.”

  The air in his apartment takes on a heavier weight and it’s too much to even hold my spoon up. Letting it drop back into the soup, I reach out and gently touch his arm. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

  Jarrett covers my hand with his own and squeezes. “It’s all good, I was young. She had cancer. Classic kid-with-a-dead-parent sob story.”

  I frown. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Sorry. I’m fine, really. Honestly, I came to peace with my mom’s death a long time ago. What I can’t understand in this moment is why you’ve been ignoring me.” His dark eyes are hard on mine. “You said it’s mostly because you’re sick. What else?”

  I take another bite, mainly to buy myself another minute to think. “Well, remember how you fucked me into admitting I was jealous over Spencer?” He nods. “I, uh, I saw you two together. At Pie Heaven.”

  Jarrett sighs, rubbing his face. “I told you she’s just my boss’ daughter. We surfed that morning and grabbed lunch after.”

  I shake my head. “Stop. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know we’re not together, and that’s why I’ve been avoiding you, because I shouldn’t feel jealous over who I see you with, Jarrett. Jealousy is dangerous. It leads to more intense feelings.”

  He watches me carefully, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Come here.”

  “Ew, I’m so gross right now.”

  Jarrett fights a smile. “Jess, come here.”

  I’m hesitant, but eventually comply, setting my bowl on the coffee table and maneuvering until we’re both lying on the couch spooning. Jarrett wraps his arms around me, tight, pulling me into him and kissing my bare shoulder. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

  I snicker, pulling the blanket up under my chin. “How long before I chase you away?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, his free hand running through my hair, lulling me into a sedative state. “You can’t chase someone who’s not running.”

  My heart accelerates at his words, but before I have the chance to call him out, he pushes play on the remote and we fall into a comfortable silence.

  And that’s how the rest of the afternoon and night go. We cuddle, watch movies, talk, eat when necessary, and eventually crawl into bed around midnight. Jarrett tends to my every need, making sure I’m comfortable, bringing me my medication with a fresh glass of water when the time comes and making sure I eat. When he flicks off his bedroom light and slides into the sheets next to me, pulling me until I’m resting on his chest, and kisses my forehead sweetly, I feel it all press in around me.

  I thought I would feel the fall. I thought I would crash on the cold hard ground and look around wondering what the hell happened. But the truth is, I fell slowly, softly — like a feather floating down, down, down into an undiscovered world.

  And now, I’m scared there isn’t an option to go back to the person I was before.

  IT’S ONE OF THOSE perfect South Florida nights.

  Skyler’s hand is in mine, the wind blowing through her hair as we cruise around campus. She rented a hot yellow Ford Mustang convertible for Spring Break but asked me to break it in with her tonight first, and with the moon bright in the sky and Skyler’s short skirt, I should be ecstatic. I should be thinking of all the ways I’ll have her tangled up in the backseat once we put this car in park.

  Instead, I’m thinking of the right words to break up with her.

  The thought brings on another surge of nausea and I shift in my seat, pulling my hand from Skyler’s grasp to grip the steering wheel. She doesn’t seem to notice, just pulls out her cell phone and clicks through a few messages while her right hand surfs the air waves out the window.

  I watch her for a moment, taking a silent inventory of all the things I’ll miss — her electric blue eyes, her almost-too plump bottom lip I love to bite, her contagious laugh and easy banter. The list is long — too long — but the list of reasons we should end things ran out of paper a long time ago.

  The semester is flying by, spiraling me faster and faster toward elections. If I want the presidency, now is crunch time. I only have a little over a month to prove why I deserve the position and Clay seems hell-bent on finding anyone but me to move in. I’ve barely had time for Skyler this semester and it’s only going to get worse. It’s not fair to her, and to be honest — I know she feels the same when it comes to her tournaments. Whether she’s ready to admit it or not, she’s not a small-time poker player anymore. People know her, she has a strong reputation forming and more and more tournaments piling up, which means less and less time for me.

  The fact of the matter is that we’re both young and we both have more we want to accomplish before we can give ourselves to anyone else.

  The timing isn’t right.

  I’ve tried to ignore it, but Clinton all but handed my ass to me at the Fratalina Wine Mixer, telling me I needed to make a decision that was best for the both of us. He’s right, I just hate admitting it. Add in the hot mess of confusion that is my relationship with Cassie and it all points to Disasterville. Still, I can’t help feeling like I’m about to do something I’ll regret later.

  Sighing, I roll the volume knob between my finger and thumb until the car is silent but for the light wind. Skyler turns to me, smiling, and I run a hand through my hair.

  “Sky, we need to talk.”

  “Well that’s not ominous or anything,” she jokes, kicking off her sandals and propping her feet up on the dash. “Let me guess — you want to
break up?” She giggles, sticking her pink tongue between her teeth in a teasing manner. When I just grip the steering wheel tighter in response, my eyes fixed on the road ahead, Skyler’s smile fades in my peripheral. “Holy shit. You do, don’t you?”

  “Honestly, not really.”

  “But?”

  I cut the wheel right, steering us toward the small road that circles the campus lake as the realization of what’s happening settles in my stomach. “But I think we both know the timing isn’t right.”

  Skyler wets her lips, turning to the windshield. “We’ve both been avoiding this moment, haven’t we?”

  “I’m still kind of wishing I’d stuck with that plan.”

  She sighs, wrapping her arms around her thighs and resting her chin on her knees. “Do you have some big speech planned?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll skip the stuff you probably already know because you’ve been thinking it, too — like how I’m in line to be president and you’re blowing up on the poker scene — and tell you what I think you probably don’t already know.” Pulling the car into a parking spot in front of the lake dock, I cut the engine, reveling in the silence as I turn to face her. “I like you. A lot, Skyler. More than I’ve liked any other girl since I’ve been at PSU. And if I was a selfish asshole, I would stay with you as long as I could and let the pressure and the bad timing slowly tear us apart. I’d make you feel like shit for blowing me off on Valentine’s Day for a tournament and I’d make you sound needy for being upset that I skipped out on the auction for a fraternity meeting. I’d hold onto you and what we could potentially be even though I know it’d hurt us both in the long run.” I lean down in her line of vision, lifting her chin so that my eyes catch her blue irises. “But the truth is that I care about you too much as a person to become your enemy when I know I could be your friend.”

  Skyler smiles, her hand folding over where mine is on her face as she leans into the touch. “I really like you, too.” Laughing a little, she shakes her head, pulling my hand into hers. “I almost broke up with you the night of the auction.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Everything you’ve said is right and I saw it then just as clearly as we both see it now. Things are only going to get busier for both of us, and as much as we have fun together, I think we’re at the point where if we don’t stop the train now, we could land at a much more serious station than we ever intended on reaching.”

  I can’t help but feel a small sense of relief. Skyler isn’t the kind of girl to lose her shit, but I had no idea how she would react to any of this. Knowing that she feels the same way about everything stings just as much as it soothes.

  “I still want to be friends. And not in the cliché, asshole way. In the legit way.”

  “Me too. And you’re coming to Spring Break. Don’t think you can get out of the trip just by breaking my heart.”

  “Breaking your — ”

  She laughs, cutting off my mild panic attack. “Kidding! I’m kidding, Adam.” Her smile is wide, genuine. “But seriously, you’re coming.”

  “Don’t you think it’ll be weird?”

  “Not if you don’t make it that way,” she sasses, still grinning. “Besides, the cars and hotels and activities are already booked. It’s two days away. You’re coming.”

  “Well, not yet, but we could change that,” I throw back, waggling my eyebrows. Skyler smacks me across the chest and rolls her eyes, but then she pauses, her stare leveling, a fire lighting. She bites her lower lip just slightly.

  “Actually, I really wasn’t kidding about breaking this bad boy in.”

  “We have, haven’t we? I can drive around a while longer,” I say, starting the car and checking the time on the dash. Skyler just keeps her eyes on me, wicked smile in place. When the intention behind her words sinks in, I shake my head at my slowness. “Wow. Can we pretend like I didn’t just miss that cue and you still want to bang?”

  “Ex sex is the best sex, right?”

  “That’s what they say.”

  Skyler raises the volume on the stereo as loud as it can go before leaning over the console, her lips finding mine for what may be the last time as a strong electronic dance beat courses through the small space of the car.

  “Let’s prove them right.”

  “COME ON, JUST ONE HIT,” Landon coaxes me, waving the joint in front of my face, eyes low. His goofy grin is on full display, Ken doll hair styled, teeth almost too white against his tan skin.

  Giggling, I push his arm away and twist the top off my water bottle. “Not tonight. I still need to pack and I don’t want to forget something because I’m high,” I lie. The truth is that I packed this morning. I’ve never smoked before and I certainly don’t plan on trying it now. When you’re high, you don’t have full control of yourself — and I’m not letting that happen again.

  “It’s Spring Break, Ex!” He takes another pull before passing to his brother on the other couch. The Mu Beta Chi house isn’t the top party house on campus, since that title is firmly held by Omega Chi Beta, but it is a strong contender. The Mu boys are known for their involvement in student government mostly, though they do throw pretty solid ragers. “At least have a beer. Or a fruity cocktail. I’ll even make you a vodka water so you don’t break the diet.”

  “I think the Chinese food we ate earlier kind of ruined that already,” I point out, pulling my legs up on the cushion to sit Indian style and dodging the drink offer. Again, alcohol equals stupid decisions. I’ve learned my lesson.

  In probably the most excruciating way.

  “You can’t say you didn’t thoroughly enjoy teaching me how to use chopsticks.”

  “You were pretty adorable.”

  “Almost as adorable as you in that sundress,” he says sweetly, kissing my cheek.

  Landon has been nothing but a gentleman since our first date. He took me to coffee first, but not in the morning. Instead, he picked me up at nearly midnight, driving us to a swanky coffee shop downtown that stays open until 2:00 a.m. with live acoustic music. We spent the night talking, and for the first time since I made the most horrific choice of my life, I smiled. And laughed. And had a good time.

  Since then, we’ve been to the beach together, studied in Greek library, and he even went shopping with me to pick out my Spring Break swimsuits — not that he found that a particularly boring date. He’s picked up the bill at every event, and though I haven’t let him move even a hair past first base, he seems content with what we have. He reminds me a lot of the men my mom read about in her historical romances. He takes his time, he’s patient.

  Still, I'm not naïve enough to think Landon is anything but a numbing device, a distraction, a flimsy umbrella fighting against the storm inside me. When I'm by myself, the storm rages so hard I feel every gust of wind all the way to my core. But Landon is almost always available, and he's the storm shelter - at least for now.

  The Mu house is buzzing, filled with brothers and sorority girls kicking off the first night of Spring Break. Landon pulls my legs into his lap and absentmindedly rubs my calves as he and his brothers chat over the music. Tomorrow, most of us will go our separate ways, including Landon and me. I’ll be headed to Key West with the Omega Chis while he jets north to Panama City Beach with his brothers and the Zetas.

  The realization that I’ll be spending a week in close proximity to Clinton is one I’ve been trying to grasp unsuccessfully. I can’t for the life of me figure out why he makes me feel so out of control. I keep trying to convince myself my head is just messed up from what happened, because what else could it be? It’s not like I like him. I mean, this is Clinton we’re talking about. I mean sure, I invited him to semi-formal with me, but only because his fraternity was on lockdown. I was being nice. And yeah, his sex appeal was comparable to Chris Hemsworth with his Thor hammer that night and we had a good time, but we were drunk — wild — and things just happened. Neither of us wanted them to. It’s all just some sort of twisted fluke.
>
  Still, every time I see him, my body does weird things — things it hasn’t done in what feels like forever — and I can’t get a grip.

  The alarm on my phone sounds and I silence it quickly, pulling my feet from Landon’s grasp and standing. “That’s my cue. Time to finish packing and help my sisters decide on bathing suits.”

  “Tough job,” Landon mocks, pushing to his feet. He grabs my hand in his and walks me out the front door, pulling me into his hard body as soon as the fresh night air hits our skin. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while longer? Kick Spring Break off the right way…” He trails off, his lips just barely brushing the skin of my neck.

  Uncomfortable, I shrug away from him and pretend to be teasing. “You’ll have plenty of girls on the beach more than willing to take you up on that offer.”

  “I’d rather wait for you,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His smile is so kind, glass-like eyes sincere, and for some reason I believe him when he says he’d wait. Part of me feels awful for even letting him think he has a chance, because I know in my heart I’m nowhere near ready to sleep with another man — I may never be.

  Some girls my age see accidental pregnancy as a curse, a mistake, a run of “bad luck”. I see it as a privilege, one that I threw away so carelessly for selfish reasons. If I can ever find it in me to forgive myself, I’d still have to push past my fear of landing in the same situation again.

  Nope, control is my only option.

  “Goodnight, Landon,” I say softly, lifting up on my toes to kiss his slightly-chapped lips.

  “Want me to walk you?”

  “I’ll be okay. I like the time to think.” I smile through one of the only true sentences I’ve uttered all night.

  “Have fun, but not too much,” he adds, winking.

  “You too.” With one last wave, I adjust my purse strap on my shoulder and start down Greek row toward the Kappa Kappa Beta house.

  It only takes a few steps for the loneliness to sink in. The front door opens and closes behind me, letting the laughter and cheers escape for just a short moment before the silence of campus on Spring Break blankets me completely.