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

“Neither did I.”

  “Does Jess know?”

  I shrug. “He’s been pretty humble about it all. Even with the planning, he wasn’t trying to really boss anyone around. He took everything on himself that he could, delegated when he needed to, and named it a team effort from the start.” My stomach pinches a little. “He’s a better man than I am. I would want all the credit for an event like this.”

  Cassie smiles, placing her hand over mine. “I seem to remember you sharing credit for the amazing Alpha Sigma concert you threw that very first year I knew you. And it’s become an annual hit.”

  “With a karaoke twist now.”

  “Lord, help us all.”

  I chuckle, smoothing my thumb over her wrist. Cassie locks her gaze on mine for a long while before she’s watching the band again, sipping her champagne, and I can see it without her saying a word.

  She wants to dance.

  Folding my napkin and setting it beside our half-eaten, red velvet cake, I extend my hand for hers, taking her out to the floor to sway alongside Jess and Kade. It’s like we start a trend, because before we know it, the entire dance floor is full.

  And a bunch of college kids are dancing to a Billie Holiday song.

  Who would have thought?

  As I hold Cassie in my arms, I can’t help but feel that same sentimental bug crawling under my skin. I’ll miss being here with her, miss going to frat parties and formals and spring breaks with her. I have no doubt the next chapter in my life holds Cassie in it, but I’d also be stupid to think it wouldn’t be different.

  Even with all we’ve been through, college is nothing compared to what waits for us in the real world.

  And that fact is thrown in my face every time I go to apply for the Alpha Sigma Field Executive position.

  Being a part of the national organization as a college graduate makes my heart race any time I think about it. Some nights, I can’t sleep because I get so excited thinking about what campuses I’d be sent to, the young men I’d get to meet and shape, the organizations I could turn around.

  But in the same breath, I lose sleep when I remember the sobering facts.

  Not only would I be away from Cassie in her last semester as a college student, but none of the schools she wants to apply to for med school have an Alpha Sigma chapter. In fact, most of them don’t even have a chapter within a hundred miles.

  Which means if I do land my dream job, I’d be far away from my dream girl.

  And while I know our love is strong and we have already made it through so many trials, I feel sick at the thought of losing her in exchange for having a career.

  “I think I smell smoke.”

  I arch a brow, snapping back to the present moment when Cassie taps my temple.

  She chuckles. “What are you thinking so hard about over there?”

  I smile, letting out a long release of a breath. “Lots of things. But most of all, how gorgeous you look tonight.”

  She blushes, that familiar shade of crimson coloring her cheeks just like it did the first day I met her. “You just want to get me out of this dress.”

  “Oh, I definitely do. And I intend to as soon as possible. But first,” I say when the song ends, doing a dramatic bow as I kiss her hand. “I have some business to attend to.”

  She giggles, turning to the side to let me kiss her cheek when I’m upright again. Then, I make my way over to Kade, tearing him away from Jess — which is no easy feat — and taking him off to the side of the dance floor. Jess makes her way over to Cassie, taking my seat at our table, and once they’re settled, I focus on Kade.

  “You did a phenomenal job putting this all together,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Ah, it was a team effort. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

  “No,” I agree. “But it wouldn’t be happening at all if not for you. This isn’t just some frat party, or just another cheesy costume event that anyone could slap together. It has finesse. And I’m being honest when I say no one has impressed me this much since I impressed my own damn self coming up with the A Sig concert idea.”

  Kade laughs.

  “I’m serious, man,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. I look around at the event, taking it all in. “Have you thought about going for president?”

  When I look back at Kade, his jaw is practically on the floor, his eyes wide as he blinks at me repeatedly. “Is that a joke?”

  “No,” I say with a chuckle of my own. “Come on, man. I mean, you threw this together in less than a month. You have raw leadership skills and the ability to get the guys fired up and excited about something. That alone is enough to make a good president, but on top of that, you’re smart and motivated and creative. You’ve got the chops.”

  Kade frowns, then laughs, shaking his head as he looks around at our brothers and their dates. “I… I don’t know, man.”

  “Well, I do.” I clap him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to make a decision tonight, okay? Just think about it.”

  His frown is still in place, but he nods, offering me what smile he can manage. “Thanks, Adam.”

  I return his nod with a grin, and then make my way back over to Cassie.

  If it’s our last Valentine’s Day together on campus, I’m going to make the most of it.

  “YOU’RE SO SEXY WHEN you’ve got Dorito dust all over your sweatpants,” Gavin says — or rather, growls, like he’s some sex-craved animal.

  I laugh as he climbs on top of me, pressing me into his sheets and kissing all over my neck.

  “Sexier than the swimsuit in Ecuador, huh?”

  “Oh, a thousand times over.”

  I chuckle again as he settles in above me, balancing on his elbows with a sleepy, hot-as-hell grin on that perfect face of his. In the low light of his bedroom, those Tahiti-blue eyes of his still seem to glow against his freshly tanned olive skin.

  True to his word, we’ve had the most anti-Valentine’s Day evening together. There have been no candles or rose petals, no boxes of chocolate or expensive fancy dinners. Instead, it’s been just me and him in his little apartment off campus, more junk food than I’ve had even on a girls’ night in, and — since we really wanted to commit to the anti-holiday thing — we landed on a horror movie instead of a romance one.

  It’s been weirdly perfect.

  “What was your favorite part of the trip?” I ask.

  He rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know I hate conversations like this. What’s your favorite color?” he mocks.

  “Humor me, asshole.” I pinch his side for good measure.

  “Fine,” he concedes, then he pulls my hand between his and uses my pointer finger to tap his chin like he’s a cartoon character thinking. “I think my favorite part was the plane ride home.”

  I frown. “What? That’s the literal worst part. Of any trip!”

  “I disagree.”

  “What could you have possibly enjoyed about it?”

  “Well, see, there was a solid hour or so where you were zonked out so hard next to me, your mouth was hanging open and there was a little line of drool from the corner of your lips down to your chin.”

  My jaw drops, and I try to cover my face with my hands, but Gavin holds onto the one so that I can’t. “Oh, my God. That’s so embarrassing!”

  “It was adorable,” he disagrees with a chuckle. “And you leaned your head on my shoulder when your neck started to hurt from leaning the other way. And for that little bit of time, we were just two people on a plane, exhausted from vacation, and I had this post-vacation high still humming through my body. It was an unremarkable moment, but the best kind.”

  I smile softly, leaning up from the pillows long enough to capture his mouth with mine. “Careful,” I warned. “That was almost romantic, and we’re doing all the opposite today, remember?”

  “I bet I can guess your favorite part.”

  “Hit me.”

  “It was parasailing.”

  “Ohhh, that was fun. Scary as hell, but fun.�
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  “It wasn’t that scary,” he argues. “Did I guess right?”

  “No, actually.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Do tell, then.”

  “I thought you hated conversations like this.”

  “Tell me, or I’ll tickle it out of you,” he threatens, and he gets me good under the armpits, making me wriggle beneath him as I laugh hysterically. I can’t even breathe, let alone speak, until he stops.

  “Brat.”

  “Tell me,” he says again, holding his fingers above me and wiggling them in warning.

  I chuckle, but then wrap my arms around his biceps where he’s holding them above me, and my eyes flick back and forth between his. “The third night of the trip, after we went to that little beach restaurant — you remember the one, where we had a table on the actual beach, and our toes in the sand as we ate that fancy lobster tail?”

  “I remember,” he says, and the corner of his mouth ticks up with the thought.

  “Well, we walked back, and had our shoes in our hands. And the moon was full, and we could hear the waves crashing on the shore. And when we got back to our room…” I swallow, not able to look at him directly as I continue, so I stare at his chest, instead. “You undressed me. And you kissed what felt like every possible inch of my body. And then you laid me down and… and… well, you know the rest.”

  Gavin is smirking when I look up at him again. “I think I forgot, maybe you should remind me.”

  I smack his chest.

  “Oh!” he says, nodding. “You mean when I went down on you for about a half an hour until you climaxed? I guess I remember now.”

  “Jerk,” I say with my cheeks on fire.

  “I’m surprised that’s your favorite part.”

  “Well, it was the first time in… a long time,” I say, knowing I don’t have to be explicit with Gavin for him to know what I mean. That’s the benefit of sharing trauma, I suppose.

  He nods, and then slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me softly at first before the pressure intensifies. My legs part of their own accord, inviting him to fit more snuggly between my hips, and the more we kiss, the harder I feel him grow.

  “Gavin,” I whisper.

  “Mmm?”

  “Will you… will you make love to me?”

  Gavin pulls back, breaking from the little kisses he was planting all over my neck. The second I see all the color wash from his face, I regret my question.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “That sounded so… cheesy and… I mean, will you fuck me?”

  But those words sound even worse, and I cringe as I say them, and Gavin shakes his head and immediately rolls off of me so that we can switch positions. He pulls me into his chest, holding me, wrapping me up tight.

  “Okay, I know what’s going through your head. So first, let me just say do not be ashamed of what you just asked. It was hot as fuck and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you feeling desire and wanting to have sex.”

  Even though I know his words are meant to soothe me, they just spark my anxiety more, and I find it harder and harder to breathe pressed against him.

  “And please know, this is not me rejecting you. This is not me saying that I don’t want to lie you down in these sheets and be inside you and make you climax all fucking night, okay?” He stops when I don’t answer, maneuvering until he can pull my chin up and look me in the eyes. “Okay?”

  I can’t fight the tears that well in my eyes, and I sniff and try to nod.

  “I’m serious, Erin. I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you and you know that. It’s just…” He takes a deep breath. “I know what happened to you and I know, maybe better than most, how much it can fuck you up. I’m so honored you feel comfortable with me enough to ask me to be the first man to touch you since that night. But I want to be sure, too. Okay? And right now, I really think we should stay where we are, and move slow.”

  All the words he’s saying are right. They’re honest and true and kind. They’re perhaps the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and the most respectful.

  But I’d be lying if I said they didn’t hurt.

  “Can I just hold you tonight? And kiss you? And eat more trashy food and stay up way past bedtime even though we both have school tomorrow?”

  I chuckle, and I’m thankful the tears don’t build enough to actually fall. “Okay.”

  With a sigh, he pulls me back to his chest, kissing my hair and grabbing the remote. “You’re an amazing girl, Erin Xanders.”

  But as he flips through the movie options, I can’t help but feel like the scum of the earth.

  BREATHE.

  Don’t forget to breathe.

  Smile.

  Don’t forget to smile.

  Squeeze.

  For the love of God, don’t forget to squeeze.

  Reminder after reminder pelts me like rubber bullets as I run through my competition routine one last time. Melt by Shaed blasts from the studio speakers, reverberating off the walls and filling my soul like the sweetest drug.

  I’m already dripping in sweat from running the routine full out five times before — in addition to stretching and training tricks beforehand — but I’m still far from nailing everything perfectly the way I want to.

  Competition is one month away, and I don’t just want to compete.

  I want to medal.

  I want to win.

  The beat builds as I climb the pole, spinning higher and higher.

  Point your toes.

  Shoulders back and down.

  Core engaged.

  I take a deep breath as I extend my legs out in a straddle, holding the position strong before I bring my ankles together to sit with my thighs wrapped around the pole. One more breath and then I’m letting go of the pole with my hands, relying on my engaged thighs as I lean back and hang upside down.

  Laybacks used to be one of the scariest pole tricks to me. But once I learned them, they quickly became my favorite. Not only are they gorgeous and flowy, but there’s so many combinations you can make out of them.

  Of course, I maybe could have selected a slightly simpler one for competition.

  But where’s the fun in that?

  Reaching behind me, I grab for the pole, and as soon as I have it in my hands, I loosen my thigh grip until I’m holding on by my ankles, instead.

  Iguana pose.

  Smile, bitch, smile. Fight the pain.

  On a steady breath, I remove my right hand from the pole, swinging it down below where my head hangs. Then, in what most would consider a miraculous feat, I free my shoulder from the pole and twist my body until I’m turned all the way around and facing it.

  My hips come back away from the pole, legs extended in straddle.

  And bam — just like that, I’m in my last trick of the routine, a beautifully extended and strong twist-grip Ayesha.

  Nailed it.

  Distantly, I hear the applause and cheers from the other girls in the studio. It’s open practice time, so everyone is doing their own thing. I asked the instructor to put on my song for the last bit of class, just to get one routine run without my earphones in.

  And now, I’m putting on a show.

  I come down via a shoulder dismount, crawling on the floor with as much sex appeal as I can manage as tired as I am now. Then, I lie back, arching my back off the ground and staggering my legs for my final pose as the music cuts out.

  And the room goes absolutely wild with cheers.

  “Holy shit, Lei!”

  “That was incredible!”

  “So strong!”

  “You’re totally going to win!”

  I’m still on the floor, propped up against the pole now and laughing as girl after girl comes up to congratulate me. I blush and wave them off, but as I try to catch my breath, I can feel it, the adrenaline zinging through my bones.

  I did it.

  “Well done, babe,” Karen, the owner of the studio, says to me as she extends a hand do
wn to help me up from the floor. She’s so tall and strong that I feel like a little pixie next to her — even in my eight-inch competition heels.

  “Thank you,” I pant. “I’m dead.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she says on a chuckle. “But let me tell you this. If you can do what you just did in here on that stage next month?” She clicks her tongue. “You won’t just win first place, you’ll scare off any girl in the South Florida area from competing in the same level and category as you ever again.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be very fun. Then what would I do?”

  “Teach.”

  She says the word so easily, so quickly, that I almost think I imagined it. But when I laugh it off, she just arches a brow.

  “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack. I know I would hire you in a heartbeat. Every day I get dozens of emails from new clients. Pole fitness is blowing up, thanks to social media. More and more people want to learn. And honestly, we don’t have enough instructors to teach them all.”

  She hands me a towel when we make it over to the cubbies where all our gym bags are, and I swig my water, considering the offer.

  “I never thought about teaching before.”

  “Well, you’re incredibly talented, and strong. You know the sport. You’ve competed multiple times. And you’ve been through hardship.” She frowns a little at that. Karen is familiar with everything that happened with my last studio.

  The memory makes my stomach knot.

  “I’m just saying, our clients would be lucky to learn from you. So, if you ever get tired of the competition life, you let me know. And hey,” she adds with a shrug. “You’ll always be a performer. There are shows and clubs around here just dying to book someone as talented as you are.”

  I smile. “I think I’d be more apt to teach than to perform.”

  “Well, I think you could do either. Or both, even, if you wanted to.”

  “I would take a class from you in a heartbeat,” one of the girls chimes in from her pole, and then a chorus of agreement rings out across the studio.

  I laugh, waving them off. “Thank you, ladies, but… for now, I just want to get through the competition next month.”

  They smile and nod, and then get back to the last of their practice. But Karen leans in, grabbing my shoulder before she whispers, “You’re going to win.”