Hazed: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 6) Page 16

  “Together,” I repeat.

  But when Adam pulls me back into his chest and presses a kiss to my hair, I can feel his heart beating even faster than mine.

  RALPH’S DOESN’T FEEL THE same.

  I can’t figure out why. I’m no older than I was the last time I was here — which was only a few months ago. I haven’t changed much since I graduated, unless you count living in a new place and becoming best friends with rejection, thanks to the never-ending job hunt. And not a single person here is looking at me like I’m too old or washed up to be at what once was my favorite college bar.

  I still fit in.

  I still look the same.

  But the problem is that I feel so damn different that I can’t even relax enough to have a good time.

  It’s actually kind of sad. I walked in here with the intention of pretending like I’m just like everyone else here, partying it up for the last couple nights of Spring Break before classes start back up on Monday. But when I got here, I found it wasn’t the same without my girls, without Kade, without being a student.

  Instead, I’m just a sad, jobless graduate here by herself.

  And I’ve drank way too much sitting at this bar.

  “Another?” one of the bartenders asks me as she flies by. It’s a busy night, and I’m lucky she’s even paying attention to me at all with all the college kids hanging on every inch of the bar with their hands up trying to get a drink.

  “Please,” I say, and then because I’m trying to at least be a little bit of an adult, I add, “And a water, too.”

  She nods, and once she’s filled my order, she’s off and fluttering to the next person.

  I stare at my gin and tonic for a long time before taking my first sip, and at this point, I barely taste the alcohol at all. Knowing how dangerous that is, I chug half my water right behind the sip.

  I should just do a shot and commit.

  I should go find someone hot to dance with.

  But whoever I find, they wouldn’t be Kade.

  I miss Kade…

  Okay, I should go find a group of girls to hang with.

  That would be weird…

  There’s got to be some KKB’s here somewhere!

  … Except they’re all flying back from Denver tonight.

  I sigh, running my finger over the rim of my plastic cup. Kade and I had amazing video chat sex last night, and we’ve been texting the whole time he’s been away for his trip. I’m glad he’s having fun. I want him to soak up every last drop of college that he has.

  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little left out.

  We’re at different times in our lives, and the saddest thing is that I wish I was in his time. I want to be in Breckenridge with him. I want to be making a fool of myself learning how to snow board and then fucking him by the fire in a cabin every night.

  I want to feel like the old me instead of this new me, the one who has no idea what she’s doing next in life.

  Another sigh leaves my chest, and I’m about ready to throw in the towel and call it a night when a familiar voice rasps behind me.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I look over my shoulder confused, but I’m already smiling when I ask Jarrett, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He laughs, sliding between me and a group of frat boys lining up shots on the bar. He angles himself so that his back is to them, and with how crowded it is, his thighs are pressed against my hips. It’s one-hundred percent unfair how enticing he looks right now. It could be the booze, I realize distantly, or it could be the fact that he’s wearing dark jeans that fit him just right and a Buck Mason t-shirt that hugs him in all the right places. It could be that I’m drunk, or it could be that this man has always been sex on a stick deep fried twice over.

  His leg is so warm.

  He smells so good.

  I sink into those thoughts for about point two seconds before I snap out of it, sniffing and inching to the other side of my barstool until we’re no longer touching.

  “That is a great question that I wish I had the answer to,” he says, grabbing the back of his neck. “I worked late at the office and it’s been a long fucking week. I just wanted a drink, and for some reason I can’t explain, I thought of this place.”

  “Well, Ralph’s does leave a lasting impression.”

  Something dances in Jarrett’s eyes then. “Indeed, it does.”

  My cheeks heat under his gaze, so much so that I tear my eyes away and take a big gulp from my gin and tonic. It’s perfect timing, because the bartender stops by to take his order, and after he’s fixed up with some Irish whiskey on the rocks, I find the courage to look at him again.

  “What about you?” he asks after a sip. “Are you… are you here alone?”

  I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Sadly, yes. And before you say it, I realize how pathetic that is.”

  He chuckles. “Hey, I’m here alone, too.”

  “So we can be pathetic together.”

  “Stop that.”

  I shrug. “What? You don’t like my self-deprecating humor?”

  “No, because you’re too amazing to talk about yourself like that.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t feel amazing right now,” I admit, and with that admission, I frown, trailing my fingers over the wet sides of my cup.

  “What’s going on?” Jarrett asks, and as the frat boys behind him take their shots and make their way back to the dance floor, he grabs a barstool they abandoned and pulls it up next to me.

  “We don’t need to talk about my sad life.”

  “We don’t,” he agrees, and he waits until I take my eyes off my cup and meet his gaze before he says. “But do you want to?”

  I frown. “I’m just… lost, Jarrett. I’m stuck in this in-between state of being where I’m not a college student, but I don’t feel like an adult either. I feel accomplished to have a degree, but also not prepared to actually have a job. And it’s fitting, because no one will call me back after interviews. Ashlei is kicking ass at her new firm, Erin is working her ass off to be a lawyer, and then there’s me.” I hold up my drink. “Getting wasted by myself at a college bar.”

  Jarrett smiles sympathetically, and then his hand reaches over and squeezes my knee under the bar.

  It’s such a simple, friendly gesture. It’s an I hear you, I get it, it’s going to be okay. It’s something I wouldn’t think twice about if I was comforting a friend.

  But when Jarrett touches me, when that warm, strong hand of his wraps around my leg and squeezes, a million tiny fireworks go off in every inch of my body, and I hum to life for the first time in weeks.

  “You’re not the first one to feel like this,” he says. “And you’re not alone. Trust me. This is completely normal.”

  I swallow, trying to listen to him and forget the fact that he’s touching me for the first time in years.

  Trying to ignore the fact that in my very drunken state, I want him to touch me more.

  “When I graduated, I felt the same way. I was working at the beach bar and all my friends were moving on. I thought grad school was the answer, but even that felt hollow, like I was just doing it to avoid the fact that I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

  I frown. “You seemed so in love with your GA position when I met you.”

  “Oh, by then I was. But it took a while to get there.”

  He finally removes his hand from my leg, and I take a deep breath of much-needed oxygen.

  “I think when we’re in college, we don’t realize that we sort of have this free pass while we’re there, you know? No one expects anything of us past getting good grades. We’re free to go out every night and sleep in all day, to party and travel and do whatever feels good, and as long as we’re passing, all is right in the world. But then you graduate, and suddenly you’re expected to have it all figured out. You should have a job right away — and not just any job, a professional job, one that uses your degree. And if you don�
�t, then everyone starts to look at you like you’re some sort of failure, like just because you don’t have everything figured out at twenty-two, you’re not okay.”

  My jaw goes slack. “Exactly! God, that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling. I know they don’t mean to, but I can sense the pitiful way Ashlei and Erin look at me when I talk about job hunting. And even Kade. I mean, he’s got plans. He’s going to be the next president of Alpha Sigma. And then there’s me and—”

  Suddenly, I realize I’m talking about Kade to his brother.

  His brother who is my ex.

  I shake my head, a sheepish smile slipping over my lips. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Jarrett insists. “Kade cares about you, Jess. He isn’t judging you, I promise. If anything, he thinks the world revolves around you.”

  “Well, that’s because it does, obviously,” I joke, but it feels flat even as I say it.

  “Jess, listen to me,” Jarrett says, leaning down until I lift my eyes to his. “You’re not behind. You’re not a failure. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Just because you don’t have a job yet doesn’t mean you won’t. It means the right opportunity hasn’t come along yet. It means there’s something better down the line. I know it’s hard, but try to trust in the fact that every part of life, even the confusing, frustrating, low moments, have purpose. And one day, you’ll look back at this period of time and realize that it all happened for a reason.”

  I smile. “You sound like a self-help book.”

  “Maybe I should write one.”

  “You could call it Drunk Truth Bombs with Jarrett.”

  “Do I have to be drunk when I write it, or does the person reading it have to be drunk?”

  “Both for maximum effectiveness.”

  Jarrett chuckles, shaking his head as his eyes search mine. “I’ve missed you.”

  The words slip out so easily, like he doesn’t realize how they feel akin to a ninja star to my chest. My next breath is shallow, burning, like the entire bar is on fire.

  But Jarret just takes a sip of his whiskey and looks around with a smile, like what he said was the most casual, most natural thing in the world.

  “So, working on a Saturday,” I muse, opting for my water when I realize my words are slurring a bit. “Must be busy at the new office.”

  “Very much so. It’s exciting to open a new branch here, but it’s a lot of pressure, too.”

  I nod. “I’m sure. But you’re the man for the job.”

  “You think so?” he asks, shaking his head. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

  “Jarrett, I’ve never met anyone so passionate about giving back to the community, about using their political knowledge for good instead of personal gain. I don’t know if you know this, but most politicians are skeezy little assholes.”

  “I can be one of those, too.”

  I snort. “No, you can’t.”

  “I was to you.”

  His words shock me silent, and I look down at the bar on a shrug. “I wasn’t exactly girlfriend of the year either.”

  Neither of us have anything to say after that, and for a while, we just sit there and look around the bar, watching college students dance and party like they’ll be forever young.

  I’m smiling at a girl hustling a group of guys at the pool table when Jarrett laughs beside me.

  I glance over, and he’s still chuckling to himself, but his eyes are on where his hands are wrapped around his glass.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t nothing me,” I say, nudging his elbow. “What are you giggling like a schoolgirl about?”

  He cracks his neck, glancing up and beyond the bar before he smirks again. “Just remembering.”

  “Remembering?”

  He nods toward the back of the bar before arching a brow at me. “That closet, though…”

  I frown at first, wondering if I missed something, but when I follow his gaze to the far side of the bar by the bathrooms, all the blood rushes to my face.

  The closet.

  Halloween.

  I was playing games, and he dragged me in there and fucked me senseless to remind me just how much I belonged to him, even when we couldn’t be together.

  “Oh, God,” I murmur, burying my face in my hands again as Jarrett lets out a bark of a laugh.

  “You have to admit, that was fun.”

  “Oh, fun is one word for it,” I say, smiling when my eyes find his.

  And maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the low lighting of the bar and the deep bass of the music thumping through me. But in that moment, looking up at Jarrett, I can remember exactly what that night felt like.

  I can remember his hands gripping me with enough force to leave bruises.

  I can remember his voice husking in my ear.

  I can remember the long length of him sliding inside me, the pitch dark of the closet, the hot panting of our moans mixing together in the most sinful dance.

  Kade’s face flashes in my mind, and I clear my throat, shaking my head fiercely and closing my eyes tight against the guilt rolling my stomach.

  “Uh, I think I should probably get going,” I say.

  “Feeling okay?”

  “Not really,” I admit.

  “Let me drive you home.”

  “No,” I say quickly, shaking my head as I stand and wave the bartender over to take my card. “No, no, really, it’s okay.”

  “Jess, you shouldn’t drive right now.”

  “I can get a cab.”

  Jarrett stands then, leveling his warm brown eyes with mine. “Jess, please. I don’t want you getting into a cab by yourself like this. Just let me take you home.”

  I swallow, because the fact is, I really don’t want to be in a cab by myself, but I also feel like spending any more time with Jarrett in the state I’m in is far more dangerous than anything a cab driver could do to me.

  Still, I nod, conceding.

  And after we pay our bills, we’re out the door and in his truck.

  I knew I was drunk, but I didn’t realize just how drunk I was until the car ride back to my place.

  The streetlights blurred as Jarrett drove us downtown, and I had to rest my head against the cool glass of his truck and close my eyes to keep from vomiting. Neither of us spoke a word the entire ride, and by the time he parks below my building, I’m certain throwing up is inevitable.

  Jarrett hops out first, jogging around to open my door and help me out of the truck. He hoists my arm up around his neck and secures his around my waist, taking most of my weight as he guides me inside.

  “I got you,” he promises.

  It feels like a dream, or a movie, or someone else living my life as Jarrett digs for my key fob in my purse and pushes my floor number on the elevator. I barely remember the ride up or us walking inside, but somehow, my eyelids flutter open and I’m in my bed in my bra and panties with my bathroom trashcan pulled up next to my bedside table.

  I groan. “God, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Jarrett says from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. When I peek up at him, he’s smiling. “You’ve always been so cute when you’re drunk.”

  “It’s going to be real cute when I throw up.”

  “I’ll hold your hair back if you need.”

  I smile, and then my eyes close again, and I’m not sure how long I lie there, how much time passes before I wake from an almost sleep to Jarrett brushing my hair off my face.

  “Hey, can you lean up long enough to take these Advil and drink this glass of water?”

  I nod with my eyes still closed, and though it takes all my energy, I manage to swallow the pills and chug almost all the water before I’m settling back down into my pillows.

  “That should help in the morning,” Jarrett says.

  “Thank you. I already feel better.”

  He smiles. “Good.”

  Jarrett stands then, adjustin
g the trashcan closer to the bed just in case before he heads toward the door to see himself out.

  Except when he gets there, he stops.

  Even through my drunken haze, I can see how white his knuckles are where they grip the door handle, how labored his breathing is as he stands there at the precipice, but doesn’t walk all the way out.

  “Jarrett?”

  “I got your text that night, you know,” he says suddenly, turning to face me with his nostrils flaring. “When you said you’d always love me.”

  I swallow, eyes wide open now, and I scoot myself to sit upright in my bed, clothing the sheets to my chest.

  Suddenly, I feel very, very sober.

  “You did?”

  He nods. “I texted you back, but I take it you had already blocked me, because I kept getting a notification that the text couldn’t be delivered.”

  I breathe in.

  I breathe out.

  In the darkness of my room, the lights from the city are the only thing illuminating where Jarrett’s silhouette is still framed in my doorway.

  “What did you say?”

  He swallows, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed again. I can see his eyes now, even if faintly, and I can see the pain in them when he whispers, “I said I’d always love you, too.”

  I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and I want to slap myself across the face for the way my heart jolts at his admission.

  “And did you mean it?” I ask softly.

  He blows out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head, and then he leans in, closer, closer, until his forehead is pressed against mine. His warm hand wraps around the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair.

  I suck in a sip of air and hope it’s enough to sustain me, because it’s impossible to breathe now.

  “I did,” he whispers, his warm breath washing over my lips. “I still do.”

  I can’t hold back the whimper that escapes me then, and I squeeze my eyes shut as Jarrett’s hand squeezes the back of my neck.

  “Jarrett, I—”

  “I know,” he says, pulling back so suddenly I nearly fall off the bed at the loss of his warmth. He stands just as quickly, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “It’s too late. I know. I fucked up and I lost my chance, and now you’re with Kade.”