Palm South University: Season 2 Box Set Read online

  I catch the one she throws at me and unfold it, my eyes scanning the bold black letters on the neon yellow tank top.

  OUTRAGEOUS? ALWAYS. OUT RAGE US? NEVER.

  “Fucking right,” Ashlei says. “We’re wearing these tonight. All of us.”

  “Wait! Can’t forget these,” Bo adds, passing around the custom trucker-style snapbacks to match. They’re all black with bright neon letters that read KKB.

  “Hold on a second, did you two coordinate these?” I ask, adjusting the back of my hat and throwing it on backward.

  Bo nods, smiling at Jess. “It was a Big/Little bonding sesh.”

  “The idea was hers,” Jess adds, tossing her tank top over her shoulder. “Clearly. We all know I’m not that thoughtful.”

  Everyone laughs and once Jess and Bo finish filling up their cups, we cheers them together.

  “Time to fuck Key West up, ladies.” Jess turns to Adam. “And gentleman.”

  Chuckling, Adam shoves his free hand into his pocket and shakes his head. “I’m a little scared for my life.”

  “As you should be,” I add with a wink. “Let’s do this!” We clink our glasses together and throw back the first drink of Spring Break, dance music filling the room around us, our skin already sun kissed from the drive down.

  And then, it begins.

  I’VE NEVER BEEN TO KEY WEST before, but less than an hour on Duval Street and I already never want to leave. This place is alive. Every bar is packed, students from campuses all over the nation spilling out onto the streets, drinks in hand. The music is loud, the personalities colorful, the feeling — wild. These are the future business men and women, parents, doctors, lawyers, dropouts, travelers, teachers — but tonight, we’re just young.

  We started our night at Fat Tuesday, filling our Bubba Kegs with frozen deliciousness and an extra shot to kick off the night right. We managed to run into Clinton and some of his brothers there and now we’re all cramming our way into the Coyote Ugly bar. Jess and Erin are hand in hand, arms swinging, voices carrying the tune of a popular country song as they head straight for the bathrooms. Breaking the seal, already.

  “We’re heading to Irish Kevin’s right after this,” Clinton says, pointing his finger in my face as he slides by. “Car bombs, baby!” We high-five as he continues down the bar with his brothers, nearly all of them dressed in the same white frat tank. Omega Chi Wasted is in bold letters like a dictionary entry, complete with the definition: intoxication level – attempted by many, reached only by the elite.

  “You know what I love about these hats?” my Little asks me as we slide up to the bar. “They hide the effects of drinking in Florida.” She lifts the snapback, revealing her crazy, slightly damp red hair underneath it. I laugh and tip mine up, showing the same hot mess beneath.

  “And they’re perfect for selfies,” I add, pulling my phone from my pocket. I slide the camera icon up and flip the lens, my cheek touching Cassie’s as I push the shutter button.

  “Love it!”

  “We need one with the whole group,” I say, looking around for someone I could flirt into taking the photo for us.

  “I can take that for you,” a southern voice twangs from behind me. When I turn, ready to hand my phone to a stranger, I stop mid-pass. Key West is crawling with attractive men right now, especially fraternity brothers, but this one just might take the cake. His dark blonde hair is hidden beneath an orange University of Tennessee hat, his teal-green eyes bright even in the dark bar. The first thing I notice is how his smile is almost too big for his face, but in the most charming way. His jaw is wide-set, his face clean-shaven, his body thin but toned. I don’t even care that he’s watching as my eyes scan him from head to toe and back up again.

  “Go Vols,” I say, cocking a brow and finally handing him my phone. Then, I turn back to the bar and shout out, “Get together, everyone!”

  We’re all a little past drunk at this point, so it takes a minute to get everyone paying attention and lined up in a way that doesn’t hide any faces. Hot Tennessee Guy takes several pictures, of which I’m sure only one is social media appropriate, before we all disperse and he slides the phone back into my hand.

  “I’m Trevor,” he says, holding the phone between our hands for a moment.

  “Trevor from Tenneesee.”

  He nods, blushing slightly. I can’t stop staring at his All-American features.

  “Skyler, from Florida.”

  Trevor releases my hand and crosses his arms over his chest, his glorious arm muscles on full display. “You’re a little far from home, huh?”

  I chuckle. “A whole five hours.”

  “Well, I guess I’m lucky you decided to stay in your home state for Spring Break.”

  “Who said you’re getting lucky?” I ask, crossing my arms to mirror him.

  He shrugs. “The universe. When I happened to walk through that door over there as soon as you started scanning the room for trouble.”

  “I see. So, Trevor, the trouble from Tennessee, what now?”

  “Now,” he says, voice thick with a southern accent as he takes his place at the bar next to me. “I buy you a shot.”

  A smile finds my lips just as Ashlei hops up on the bar behind Trevor. I shout out her name, beating my fists on the bar, and everyone else joins in once they realize what’s happening. The coyote girls are inviting other girls up on the bar to join them for a dance, but when Pour Some Sugar On Me starts playing and Ashlei whips out moves that put every single other girl to shame, all of our jaws drop. She’s owning the hairography, dropping down to her knees on the bar and crawling across it, even going as far as kissing Bo for show. The guys, of course, go absolutely ape shit at that. When she bites her bottom lip, swollen from her kiss with Bo, and turns around to twerk, the entire bar erupts in a frenzy. All I can do is shake my head — that girl is full of surprises.

  “Looks like you found the sexiest girls in Key West,” a guy says to Trevor with a similar accent, clapping him on the back. I assume it’s one of his brothers, especially as more of them filter in around us.

  “You read my mind,” Trevor agrees, holding out a liquid cocaine shot to me. I take it between my fingers with a wink before turning back to my sisters.

  “Hey KKB! This handsome man just bought me a shot!”

  All of my sisters in the bar cry out before starting a low, rumbling “Ohhh” that stretches out into the beginning of one of our chants.

  Take a shot, take a shot, take a goddamn shot!

  If you can’t take a shot like a KKB can,

  Then you shouldn’t have a fucking shot in your hand!

  Take a shot, take a shot, take a goddamn shot!

  Everyone cheers and Trevor and I knock back the Jager and Bicardi 151 concoction. When we slam the glasses back on the bar, I use my thumb to wipe my bottom lip, my eyes finding his brothers all gaping behind him.

  “Buckle up, boys.”

  I FUCKING LOVE SPRING BREAK.

  As I guzzle down my second Flabongo in nothing but a cheeky, hot pink pair of bikini bottoms and black strapless top, I remember what all the dieting and gym time was for. In a way, I guess it’s kind of a blessing that I’ve been sick the past couple of weeks. I feel completely back to my old self now, though, and I clear my bong well before the Omega Chi pledge opposite me. He’s still struggling, holding the plastic Flamingo upside down trying to guzzle the beer inside it through the opening at the mouth while I’m passing mine off to the next contender. When his brothers start shoving him, teasing, I just wink and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “Nice try, champ.”

  He grins, his dark eyes scanning me slowly. They remind me a little of Jarrett’s, except this kid can’t be much older than nineteen and therefore his eyes are missing that bit of confidence — the assurance of a good time. He’s scrawny, cute, but just not Jarrett.

  The sun is hot on my shoulders, no cloud cover to shield the rays, and I wiggle my toes in the hot sand as I make my
way through the tents set up on Smathers Beach. There are students from all over the nation here for Spring Break and each tent has a university, fraternity, or sorority flag flying high. My eyes drift from the chaos to the bright blue, almost aqua water and I sigh, wishing more than before that Jarrett was here.

  If this were any other Spring Break, I would have at least made out with five guys by now. There are so many eyes on me, so many easy targets, and yet I don’t feel compelled to aim my dart at a single one. I almost want to take a frat daddy back to our suite just to prove to myself that I can, but then I think about Jarrett, and the truth comes to light — I can’t.

  Not now that I’ve had him.

  “Hey sexy,” Skyler says, words slurring slightly as she smacks my ass. Her all black sunglasses reflect my messy bun and the bright water backdrop behind me. I smile, eying her brand new, bright coral and rhinestoned bikini. She’s catching a tan quickly, which makes it seem even more electric against her skin. “Tell me this isn’t the best Spring Break ever.”

  “It’s pretty epic so far,” I agree, though I know something that would make it better. Or rather, someone.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Let’s get some street meat,” I say, hooking my arm in hers and steering us toward the hot dog stand set up on the other side of the boardwalk.

  Skyler scrunches her nose, leaning her weight on me. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “There’s only like a forty percent chance you’ll get food poisoning.”

  “Well when you put it like that… YOLO!”

  My eyes scan the beach where our crew set up camp, stopping abruptly when I find Ashlei and Bo cuddled up on a blanket together. They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, legs tangled, laughing. Ashlei occasionally plays with Bo’s short hair and Bo lazily runs her fingers along Ashlei’s freshly tan leg.

  “I can’t fucking hold this in anymore,” I say suddenly, pulling Skyler to a halt just before the sand meets boardwalk. My hand flies up in the direction of Ashlei and Bo. “Sky. They’re fucking. Look at them.”

  Skyler’s eyes follow my hand and she blanches. “Cassie and Adam?”

  I frown, noticing Adam and Cassie leaned over Adam’s phone on the other side of the girls. Adam’s hand is resting casually on Cassie’s lower back and her cheeks are flushed, probably more from the heat and her day drinking buzz than him touching her. From what I can tell, it looks like they’re laughing at a cat video or something else equally uneventful. Cassie is about as prude as they come and Adam is still up Skyler’s ass as far as I’m concerned, no matter how he tries to deny it.

  “Oh please,” I say, rolling my eyes and grabbing Skyler’s jaw in my hands. I squish her cheeks together and steer her eyesight toward Ashlei and Bo, who are now leaning so close I’m almost positive they’re going to kiss. “Those two.”

  “Ashlei? And your Little?” Skyler’s brows shoot up. “No… you think? I mean they hang out a lot, but wouldn’t we know if they were… well… you know?”

  “Skyler. Look at them.”

  She does, even taking the effort to lift her sunglasses over her wavy brown locks for a minute. She has drunk eyes to the max – slightly smeared mascara, glassy surface – but I know she still sees it.

  “Shit,” she murmurs, flicking her sunglasses back down.

  “Yeah.”

  I grab her by the elbow and drag her toward the hot dog stand. “I saw them kiss at semi-formal.”

  “What?!”

  I nod. “I didn’t tell anyone because I thought it was a fluke – a drunken kiss or something. I mean, shit, you and I have shared a few of those.”

  “True. I saw Ashlei kiss her on the bar last night, but I thought it was just for show.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve been seeing them together all the time, always touching, always sneaking off,” I add just as we reach the food stand. Skyler crosses her arms and eyes the menu. “I don’t care. I mean seriously, I don’t. But why won’t they just fucking tell us?”

  “I don’t think it’s that easy, J-Love,” she says before leaning into the window of the food cart. “I’ll just take a hot dog and French fries, please.” She glances back at me. “Want anything?”

  I shake my head.

  “Anything to drink?” The man inside asks. He’s short, balding, light blue t-shirt covered with grease. Every inch of his exposed skin is tan and leathery, but I guess you can’t live in Key West and not be tan.

  Skyler chuckles. “I think we’ve got the drinks covered.”

  The man eyes the rowdy scene behind us and nods, taking Skyler’s wet cash. “Ain’t that some true shit.”

  He ducks back inside and I chew my lip, still not wanting to let the subject go. “Look, Bo is my Little. She knows I’ll understand. And Lei is one of my best friends! It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Do you know one other girl in our sorority who’s a lesbian?”

  I scoff. “I can think of at least three.”

  “Openly,” Skyler adds, rolling her eyes. “Think about it. It’s not something you see often in Greek life, especially not at Palm South. Maybe they’re just taking their time. Or maybe they want to see if it’s serious before they say anything.” She shrugs just as too-tan man hands her a small cardboard box with her food. “Or, maybe, there’s nothing to tell. They could just be friends, Jess.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I grumble, snatching one of her French fries and popping it in my mouth.

  She chuckles. “Just chill. If they are together, they’ll tell us – when they’re ready.”

  I’m still not satisfied, but I let out a long breath, conceding for the moment. “Fine.”

  Skyler looks proud. “Great. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” she trails off, her tiny hand cupping the rather large hot dog out of her box. “Wanna suck my wiener?”

  “I’d rather bite it.”

  “Oh, feisty!” Skyler waves the encased meat in my face. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you eat my wiener.”

  “I bet you’d rather I eat something else, you cheeky bitch.”

  “Hey, don’t post an offer you can’t come through with.” Skyler winks just as our feet reach sand again and someone chokes behind us. When we turn, two guys with pasty-white skin and University of Kansas tank tops on are staring wide-eyed right back at us.

  Stealing Skyler’s hot dog, I carefully take nearly half of it in my mouth and bite slowly, letting my eyes flutter back. “Mmmm… so tasty,” I mumble around the mouthful.

  The guys swallow, eyes shifting from me to each other before they scurry off.

  Skyler bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, they’re going to have nightmares.”

  “Or wet dreams,” I combat, sucking ketchup off my index finger.

  “You’re such a bitch. I really am hungry,” she pouts, inspecting what’s left of her street meat.

  “We can sixty-nine if you want?”

  She shoves me just as we reach our spot on the beach and I fall easily into my lounge chair, still laughing and stealing another French fry on my way down.

  “I love you,” I coo, blowing drunken kissy faces at her.

  Skyler eyes me, fighting back a smile. It’s moments like these when I realize that maybe it doesn’t matter who’s hiding what. It’s not about my future with or without Jarrett, my tests next week, or the career path I should probably be shaping. Sometimes it’s just about living in the moment with your sisters. It’s about being young, and silly, and wild and carefree.

  With a content sigh, I lean back in my chair and let the sun rays soak in, lifting my freshly filled Bubba Keg cup to my lips and tasting the fruity cocktail inside.

  It’s good to be a KKB.

  “CAR BOMBS!” MATT, THE PRESIDENT of Omega Chi, yells as we burst through the open doors of Irish Kevin’s. Skyler and her sisters weave past us and make their way to the front of the stage where a small band is set up. They’re doing covers of popular songs and taking requests in the form of cold hard cash, and Skyler
is the first to pull out a twenty.

  She waves it in the air and calls out, “Sweet Caroline!” The bar cheers and the tall, lanky guy behind the mic starts flirting with her as she drops it in the jar. When he takes note of all her sisters filing in around her, I just shake my head.

  He has no idea what he’s in for.

  “I can’t believe so many of us are still hanging in after day drinking at Smathers all day,” I say to Matt as we slide up to the bar. The bartender is already pouring up our car bombs.

  “Shit, you know how it is when Omega Chi and KKB get together.”

  “Fucking insanity?”

  He waggles his eyebrows, handing me a car bomb and tipping his toward me. “Damn straight.”

  Matt’s sporting a sunburn along with the rest of us, though his shows as lobster red and mine as dark chocolate. The tightness of my skin only reminds me what a kick ass day it was as we drop the shot of Bailey’s into our mugs of Guinness and chug. Slamming them back down on the bar, Matt throws me a high five and wades through the crowd to where Skyler is. Poor guy, he’s been trying since we got here to move in on her since she’s not with Adam anymore. The thing is, I don’t think she plans on giving Matt another round in her bed — especially not with literally thousands of other choices on Duval Street.

  I whip out my phone to check for texts from Shawna, frowning when the screen is blank. We were writing back and forth all day today, but she stopped responding a few hours ago, making me realize just how much I wish I would have dragged her ass with me. Trying not to dwell on it, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and lean against the bar. When I notice Erin a few barstools down, eyes low as she watches the rest of her sisters in front of the stage, I pay the bartender for two beers and slide down next to her.

  “You should go join them,” I shout over the band singing Wagon Wheel. Erin’s eyes flick to mine, her brows pinching together before she turns away again. Her makeup is flawless, her dark blonde hair pin straight beneath the snapback she and her sisters are all wearing. On the outside she seems put together and fine, but all it took was that one second of looking into her eyes for me to know she’s not. I already feel like walking over to her was a mistake.