Legacy_A New Adult College Romance Page 6

  I’m not going anywhere.

  KIP JACKSON IS ABOUT as subtle as a fog horn in a museum.

  I somehow managed to make it to the small poker tournament I originally had planned before Erin saddled me into the date auction. The only problem is that Kip wiggled his way into my cab, too. And now, on top of my plan of getting Clinton’s Little, Josh, to buy me tonight so that I wouldn’t be stuck playing Erin’s game anymore falling through, I’m also stuck with Kip distracting me from the bar while I’m trying to focus on winning the next hand.

  He doesn’t fit in, not in this little shit hole bar. It’s closed off to the public, only accessible with a secret password, and the clientele are far from anything remotely close to Kip. Everything in here is dark — the lighting, the liquor, the tattoos on the guy sitting at the bar, eyeing me like a snake now that I’ve taken his money and booted him out of the tournament. It’s okay that my bright pink dress stands out — hell, it even plays in my favor, since distracting the other players and playing up my naiveté is part of my poker game.

  But Kip? He needs to blend in, to not cause a scene.

  And he’s failing.

  Not too long into the game, I beat out one of the toughest players at the table with a flush, one he thought was a bluff. He, of course, threw a big fit about his loss, which I’m used to. But Kip looked like he was about to jump out of his skin and across the bar to pummel the guy when it all went down. I had to shoot lasers at him with my eyes to get him to sit back down.

  Now, an hour later, and it’s down to just me and the guy I’ve been strategically flirting with all night — Luke. He’s dressed pretty fratty in his khaki shorts straight from The Gap and his bro tank, complete with dark Oakley sunglasses and a ball cap turned around backward on his fat head.

  He’s had his eyes on me all night, and though I’ve been playing into his flirting banter, it’s pure strategy — he doesn’t have a shot in hell with me.

  Still, I’m a little nervous now that I’ve just called his bet. He’s all in, which means if I win this hand, I win it all — one step closer to paying off my entry fee for the APC tournament. But if he wins, I’m down to just twelve-hundred dollars to try to battle back to the top with.

  Luke’s been making comments about me being Barbie all night — which I can’t really blame him for, seeing as how I’m still sporting the bright pink dress the girls dressed me in for the auction. Still, I can’t resist the urge to throw that shit back in his face when he lays his hand down, smug as hell.

  He has a straight, and that’s all fine and dandy.

  But I’ve got a four of a kind.

  “Oh, Ken,” I tease. “Barbie never bluffs.”

  Spreading the cards out on the table, I reveal my hand, and my opponent’s jaw drops as the tiny bar erupts in a mixture of laughter and applause. I graciously accept the congratulations from those who offer, quickly swiping up the envelope with my cash in it as soon as the dealer places it in front of me.

  I need to get out of here — need to get Kip out of here — and fast.

  “That was a good game,” the dealer says as I stand and tuck the envelope of cash in my clutch. “You know, you look familiar. Do you play a lot around here?”

  I quickly shake my head. “No, but I have a familiar face. A lot of people think they know me.”

  I know he doesn’t believe me, but thankfully, he doesn’t push further. “I guess that’s it. Well, at any rate, good job tonight.”

  I thank him, glancing at Kip briefly to let him know it’s time to go before I make my way toward the door.

  My one, explicit rule for allowing him to come with me to the tournament was that he stay cool and pretend like he doesn’t know me. If these guys found out it was me, Skyler Thorne, one of the hottest women in poker who came to clear out their pockets at a tiny little tournament, we’d have trouble. Somehow, we’ve managed to skate by without anyone noticing, but I still won’t feel at ease until we’re back in a cab.

  “Wait a second,” Luke says, blocking my exit as he grabs my arm. “You’re Skyler, aren’t you?”

  Though my heart skips at his recognition, I rip my arm free, stepping around him with ease. “Nope, I’m Barbie, remember?”

  Luke grabs my arm again, but before I can defend myself, Kip is sprinting across the room.

  “Don’t touch her,” he growls out, and I internally groan.

  Damn it, Kip.

  While I want to admit that it’s a little hot how possessive his icy blue eyes are as he pins Luke with them, I’m more than a little aggravated. We need to get out of this bar without causing a scene, and this is not how we do it.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Luke asks when Kip steps into his space.

  “He’s leaving,” I say quickly. “We both are. Let’s go,” I say to Kip next, shoving him toward the door.

  “Hey, I thought we were going out after this,” Luke says, his arm wrapping around my waist from behind. “You just hustled me, the least you can do is put out tonight.”

  I narrow my eyes, ready to lay into him, but my blond-haired, blue-eyed bull dog attacks before I can.

  Kip shoves Luke back, hard, sending him flying into the poker table. The chips scatter in his wake, a drink splashing over the side and onto the felt, and then all hell breaks loose.

  “Take that shit outside!” the dealer yells.

  “Yeah, let’s go, playboy.” Luke pushes himself off the table, launching at Kip, who rushes toward him, too.

  I throw my hands out just in time to catch Kip’s advance, shoving him back toward the door as I grit through my teeth. “Go. Now.”

  “I’m not going to let this asshole put his hands all over you.”

  Swoon.

  Ugh, stop it, Skyler.

  I shove Kip harder, making him stumble back toward the door. Once we’re safely outside, the little bit of weakness Kip gave me with his possessiveness morphs back into annoyed anger. There’s a cab waiting, one Kip was instructed to call at the end of the tournament, and I climb inside it, immediately smacking his chest once the door is closed behind us.

  “What the fuck, Kip?! You almost screwed everything up!”

  “I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch that shit happen, Skyler!” he says, his breath hot on my skin.

  Our bodies are too close, and I scoot away, putting distance between us in the backseat.

  “I don’t care if you did take that douchebag’s money, he shouldn’t have put his hands on you.”

  Do not swoon. Do not give in.

  “I told you, I can handle myself,” I remind him, crossing my arms and looking out the window. I don’t know if I’m more frustrated at the fact that he almost blew the tournament for me, or at the fact that I still desperately want him, except now, I’m not allowed to have him.

  Now, I have to play him like a game of poker — right into my Big’s hands.

  “I don’t need you to save me, Kip,” I say quieter.

  For a while, we sit in silence, and I try to let that truth sink in. Kip is not mine, he never will be mine. And now, I’m stuck in a game I never intended to play, with a heart who doesn’t even realize it’s in the game, too.

  Great.

  “Hey,” Kip says after a while, reaching over to place one hand on my thigh. Warmth spreads from that point of contact down to my toes, and I fight the urge to shiver. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

  I smack his hand away. “Whatever.”

  “Shit, Skyler,” he says, exasperated. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m into you, okay?”

  My heart squeezes.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t sit back and let some Abercrombie model-wannabe molest you. Next time, I’ll back off. Just, come on, I don’t want to end the night like this. Come home with me.”

  At that, my eyes widen.

  “Are you serious?” I ask, finally facing him again.

  “Not like that,” he clarifies quickly, his hands up like he comes in peace.

 
Yeah, right. That motherfucker came in like a hurricane.

  “It’s almost four in the morning and I know you’ve got to be hungry. Let me make us breakfast.”

  As if on cue, my stomach growls, reminding me that I didn’t even eat before the auction because my nerves were so shot. Still, I haven’t had time to digest the night, to digest the fact that my big plan of having Josh win me in the auction backfired, and now Erin’s little game is in place — with me as the pawn.

  I turn toward the window again, hoping he’ll just drop it, but Kip scoots closer to me, instead. He sets his chin on my shoulder, his big, puppy dog eyes begging me through the reflection in the glass.

  “I make killer chocolate chip waffles.”

  I try not to smile, but he’s just so damn adorable, it’s practically impossible.

  “I’ll strip down to my boxers and wear an apron for you,” he adds, and I pinch my lips together, still trying to fight.

  Kip leans in a little closer, his voice just a whisper in my ear with his next sentence.

  “What if I told you I had bacon?”

  I can’t help it — I laugh. Kip knows he’s won, but still, I shove him away, shaking my head. “You’re the biggest nerd, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called worse. So,” he says, eyes hopeful. “Waffles and bacon? Please? I promise to keep my hands to myself and you can punch me if I start to annoy you.”

  I sigh, debating my options. I really am hungry, and as much as I want time to figure out what the hell to do with my feelings toward Kip, I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want to spend more time with him.

  “Fine,” I concede. “But only because I love bacon.”

  Legacy takes place during the same semester as Black Number Four. Whether you’ve read it before now or not, you’ll get a wider view of what was happening at Palm South University (especially between Kip and Skyler) if you read Black Number Four as you read this season. I will help guide you, letting you know which chapters to read before moving on to the next episode.

  FOR THE FULL READING EXPERIENCE FOR THIS EPISODE, READ CHAPTERS 1-5 IN BLACK NUMBER FOUR BEFORE CONTINUING ON TO EPISODE TWO. (You’ll get to see how Skyler felt when her and Kip met, experience the shot of tequila and first kiss from her point of view, read what happens at breakfast, and get an inside look into Kip’s other motives for being at PSU. Hmmm… the plot thickens. ;) )

  “OKAY, WE HAVE A few visitors tonight before we end chapter,” I announce to my sisters Sunday evening. They’re all a bit cranky after a particularly long chapter, so I put on my best smile to help them get through the last half hour. It’s been a hectic week since our date auction, and with Valentine’s Day around the corner, every sister has more pressing things on their mind.

  Like who will be bringing them roses.

  “Please welcome the lovely ladies of Zeta Pi Alpha.” I initiate the applause, which my sisters mirror as the ZPA girls make their way into our house. They’re the first in a line of visitors who want our attention tonight. Now that the semester is in full swing, we’re getting invited to participate in philanthropic events, dances, socials, and more.

  Once the girls leave, the Omega Chi Beta brothers enter, and my stomach knots when I see Clinton for the first time.

  He’s dressed in his chapter best, donning charcoal gray dress slacks and a relaxed, cream button-down with the top button undone. The sleeves are pushed up his massive forearms, exposing the muscle there, and I can’t help but notice he’s been bulking up since the last time I saw him.

  There’s always a kind of magnetism I feel around Clinton, like no matter the time and place, I could always depend on him to be there when I need him. I can close my eyes and still see him in the soft light on the garden balcony at our semi-formal, feel his arms around me as I finally let out every tear I’d been holding back over what had happened.

  He told me to go see someone, begged me to talk about it.

  But it’s not that simple.

  His dark eyes are soft as he smiles and sings along with his brothers, but those eyes have seen darkness. They’ve seen horror, they’ve seen hardship, and yet he still finds a way to smile bright enough to light up an entire room.

  I don’t know how he does it, and I can’t watch anyone but him as they make their way through the room, handing out roses as they sing.

  They sound terrible, but they look nice — and that’s all that matters when it comes to fraternity serenades.

  I’m at the front of the room, so Clinton makes it to me last, and he pauses in front of me, offering me the very last rose from his bundle. He’s still singing, though his eyes are different now — tinged with sadness at the corners instead of the joy I’d watched moments before.

  I wonder if he’ll ever be able to look at me without feeling sad, without experiencing some sort of pity.

  After what I put him through, I can’t imagine how he ever could.

  I take the rose from his hands, my creamy fingers brushing the rough skin of his dark hand, and he finally offers me a soft smile as their song ends. Then, he turns to face the room with the rest of his brothers.

  “Ladies of Kappa Kappa Beta,” their president says. “I am pleased to inform you that our national chapter has granted us permission to attend Spring Break with you, thanks to our good behavior last semester.”

  All the brothers make lewd gestures at that, and everyone laughs.

  “We can’t wait to party with you like we always do, and until then, feel free to use our new pledges to do your homework or rub you down with tanning oil — whichever item is most pressing on your to-do list.”

  A few whistles ring out at that, and I shake my head, hurrying them along with a few snaps of my fingers. Once they make their way out of the room, it’s Alpha Sigma’s turn to come in, and if I thought the pull I felt to Clinton was strong, it’s nothing compared to what I feel when Kip Jackson walks into the room.

  Kip Jackson.

  The only boy I’ve ever loved, the only boy I’ve ever wanted to save me.

  The only chance at happiness I have left.

  His blue eyes barely even skirt to mine before he’s turned around, facing the rest of my sisters as his president introduces them, but just that tiny glance has me reeling back to the summer we were together. I can still see those eyes outlined by a black night sky, his smile bright and wide just before he kissed me.

  I’ve seen him around campus a few times since I heard he was here, but we still haven’t had the chance to speak. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m here, but being that he’s in Greek life, I don’t see how he could not have heard of me. I’m the president of the top sorority.

  Still, whether he’s heard of me being here or not, he hasn’t searched me out, which confirms my suspicion that he probably doesn’t really care to see me. After the way I acted at the end of our relationship, fueled by jealousy, I can’t blame him.

  All my money is on Skyler.

  Just like I suspected, he outbid everyone at the date auction to “win” Skyler. But, to my knowledge, they haven’t gone on the date yet. Once they do, the plan will be in motion, and my last-ditch effort to get Kip back in my arms will either do just that or blow up in my face entirely.

  Am I crazy?

  The thought passes my mind, just like it has several times since I asked Skyler for her help. I even gave her an out at the auction, right before she went on stage. But, she assured me she was fine, and she was all in to help me.

  Sometimes I’m sure I don’t deserve her.

  Staring at the back of Kip’s head doesn’t make him turn around to look at me again, so I scan the faces of my sisters. When I spot Skyler, I see her eyes are fixed on Kip, too.

  And I know without a doubt that he’s looking right back at her.

  “The brothers of Alpha Sigma would like to welcome back the lovely ladies of Kappa Kappa Beta to Palm South for spring semester,” Adam says, gleaming at the new additions to his fraternity. They’re all dressed
in the same khaki pants, light blue button-ups and navy and white striped bow ties. “We proudly present our new pledges.”

  He reads off all their names before telling us that they’ve all prepared a little something to introduce themselves. The next ten minutes is pure laughter, with each pledge using poem, song, or stunt form to tell us their hobbies and interests — most of which include meeting girls.

  Kip is the last pledge to perform, and when he steps forward, I feel all the oxygen available in the room pull toward him, like he’s the only source of life.

  “Hit it, boys!” he says, which cues his pledge brothers to break into a chorus of beatboxing. I have to stifle a laugh at their ridiculous movements, each of them acting like a B Boy right out of the 90s as they circle my sisters and add to the rhythm, whether it be with bass, snaps, or some other sound.

  And then, with his eyes on Skyler, Kip starts to rap.

  Let me tell you a story about this girl I met,

  She had the bluest eyes that were hard to forget.

  She challenged me to a game of foosball,

  Little did I know that I would lose all.

  I scoff at that. Lame.

  Cinderella stole a kiss and then she ran away,

  So I gave her some space for a couple of days.

  Then I took a thousand bucks and I played my cards right,

  I bought a date with the princess last Saturday night.

  My stomach drops at the mention of that kiss. I knew he’d taken a shot off her body, and even though no one specifically said it, Jess had eluded to Skyler having her tongue down Kip’s throat. Still, it stings to hear him say it, to hear him rap about it like it was the best kiss of his life.

  I want to be the best kiss of his life.

  And now here I am to collect my prize,

  No more running and no more lies.

  It’s been over a week and now I’m ready for my date,

  So what’ya say, Skyler Thorne, can I pick you up at eight?

  His brothers make the beat drop and the entire chapter room goes wild. I’m a little delayed, my eyes glued to the back of his head as everything around me morphs, the cheers muted, claps in slow motion. Shaking my head, I join in on the applause, my eyes finding Skyler along with everyone else.