Palm South University: Season 3 Box Set Page 8

  “So manly with your little beard,” I tease.

  He shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts he was focused on before I got there and smiles down at me, though it’s still not the real smile I know and love. “The ladies like a little friction, if you know what I mean.”

  “Gross,” I say with a laugh, nudging him. “But also true.”

  This time he laughs, throwing his arm over my shoulders as we make our way across campus.

  There are few people in the world I love as much as Clinton, which is why it breaks my heart that no matter what we talk about, and no matter what he says about how he’s feeling, I can read the truth in his eyes. He’s sad, he’s broken, and when I get that way, I know the only thing that makes me feel better is going home for a while.

  So, when he drops me off at my classroom, I pull out my phone before class starts and book two flights to Pittsburgh for next weekend, screenshotting the confirmation and texting it to Clinton.

  - Pack your bags. It’s time for a bestie trip.

  “YOU KNOW,” ERIN SAYS, a little out of breath as she wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Guys complain about sweaty balls, but they have no idea the torture of sweaty underboob.”

  I chuckle, glancing up at her from where I’m seated on the turf that stretches in front of the fountain. Less than two weeks ago it was the setting for the Alpha Sigma concert, and in less than a week it will be home to the Kappa Kappa Beta Dodgeball Tournament.

  “At least we have a little cloud cover,” I offer optimistically.

  “Ugh, it’s just so muggy,” she counters, squinting up at the sky before watching me hammer in another peg for the fence we’re putting up to outline the dodgeball court boundaries. “When you’re finished here, can you come help me with the referee stands?”

  “Absolutely! Be right over.”

  “Thanks,” she says, still eyeing me. She watches me work for another moment before throwing up her hands in exasperation. “How are you this cheery when we’re all sweating like pigs and working like men in this God-awful Florida heat? It’s gross. And it’s creeping me out. Stop it.”

  I laugh, shrugging as I stand and dust the grass off the back of my shorts. “I can’t help it. Grayson is finally taking me on a date tonight. Nothing can bring me down today, Ex. Not even underboob sweat.”

  “Ugh, fine. Can you at least fake a frown for me?”

  I give her my best scowl, but we both end up breaking into giggles as we maneuver through the field of girls toward the referee stands.

  “So, where’s Mr. Perfect taking you?”

  “There’s a really fancy steakhouse on the water that he wants to take me to for dinner, and then we’re going to walk the beach and you know… I’m sure we’ll end up back at his place.”

  I blush, biting my lip at the thought of Grayson’s hands on me. After the rough few weeks we’ve had, I’m looking forward to having one-on-one time with him, to having time with my Grayson — not the one who lives on stage.

  “Okay, now I understand why you’re all smiley,” Erin says, flipping through a few pages of her clipboard. “Think you guys will finally have sex?”

  My cheeks heat even more. “I don’t know… maybe. I guess we’ll see how the night goes. But if I were a betting woman like Skyler… well, I’d put my money on yes.”

  Erin eyes me for a second, her brows bent like she’s worried about my decision. But that doesn’t make any sense, since she’s more pro-Grayson than anyone.

  Her eyes are soft as she grabs my elbow and squeezes it gently. “Well, just be careful, okay, Grandlittle? Protection and all that.”

  “Oh, my God. Stop mothering me and go boss someone around. That’ll make you feel better.”

  She laughs, but it’s small and soft. “Can’t argue with that logic. Let me know before you head out for your big date, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  Erin watches me for a moment more with a slight smile, then she snaps back into business mode, flipping through the pages on her clipboard once more and barking out orders at every girl she passes as she crosses the field.

  My stomach catches flight with butterflies as I get to work on the referee stand, helping two of our newer sisters build it from the ground up. It’s actually a nice distraction to work with my hands for a while, especially considering my mind is completely in the clouds. I can’t stop imagining what the night will be like, what he’ll wear, how the food will taste, what conversation we’ll have, how amazing it will feel to have my hand in his as we walk the beach at night.

  Grayson has been so busy, and after our little fight at the Alpha Sigma concert, we really need the alone time. He was stressed that night, running from his solo performance at a coffee shop in an upscale neighborhood back to campus for the concert. He didn’t answer my calls the first few times I tried to reach him, and when he finally called me back, he went off on me for blowing up his phone when I knew he was at another performance. The truth was I hadn’t remembered it was supposed to go that late, and I was just trying to help Adam.

  I can still hear the bite in his voice, the snap of it, a sound so unfamiliar to me. He’d blamed me for putting the pressure on him by making him agree to do the Alpha Sigma concert, and said some things about Greek life that I always knew he felt, but never thought he would say. It hurt, and made me feel about two inches tall.

  Grayson apologized, of course, and he held me that night after the concert, kissing away any last tears I had to shed over our fight. Then he promised me more dates and more time spent together, and I promised to be more understanding of his new lifestyle.

  I’m beginning to realize that relationships take work. Sure, the passion and butterflies are amazing, but to really survive as a couple, you have to compromise. You have to work together. And I’m happy to do that with Grayson, because I believe in us. And the more I learn about him, the more I fall for him.

  I think I might be falling in love.

  The admission makes me giddy again, and I bite back the stupid smile spreading on my face as I try to keep up with the conversation my sisters are having about what outfits they want to wear for our next social. But when the last stand is finished and I’m free to go back to the house and get ready for my date, I let the butterflies take me over, wings tickling my ribs as I practically skip home.

  I scan through my outfit options the entire way back, wondering what he will wear, wondering how he will look when he sees me all dressed up. I imagine his fingers sliding the straps of my favorite emerald green dress down over my shoulders, my eyes fluttering shut at the thought of his hands moving to the long zipper on the side. It’s impossible to know how everything will happen, but one thing I know for sure.

  Tonight will be amazing.

  Tonight is the worst night of my life.

  Okay, that might be a little dramatic, but it’s definitely in the top five. Here I am, dressed in my favorite green dress just like I imagined, except there won’t be any hands sliding it off me tonight. My hair is pulled into an elegant up-do, a few tendrils hanging to frame my face, which is absolutely flawless after an hour of makeup application, and I borrowed Erin’s beautiful nude heels that wrap at the ankle with a ribbon. But none of it matters.

  Because Grayson bailed.

  He was sweet about it, of course, and regretful. His agent booked him a last-minute show and he couldn’t turn it down. He promised he’d make it up to me and told me there’d be a ticket at the door with my name on it if I wanted to show up, but I politely declined. I tried to hide my disappointment, but I know he saw right through me.

  And the bigger part of me hoped he did.

  But now I’m all dressed up with nothing to do, salivating for a delicious steak I won’t get to eat, and yearning to be held on the beach by my boyfriend who is across town on a stage singing to a group of swooning girls, instead.

  Sighing, I pull my phone from my clutch, thumbing through the contacts to find Skyler’s name. I know she’ll
know exactly what to say to make me feel better, but for some reason I can’t get my thumb to drop the last inch to dial her number. I don’t even want to talk to anyone, I just want to be miserable.

  Pity party, table for one.

  So, I let my feet carry me, the adorable heels feeling more and more like medieval torture devices with every step as I meander aimlessly around campus with my mind on Grayson. I wonder if this is really our new normal, if this is how it’s going to be now — cancelled plans and IOUs.

  My stomach growls as I pass the food court, so I head for my favorite pizza place, the bell above the door announcing my arrival with a sad ding. Pie Heaven sells pizza slices the size of your face, and that’s exactly the kind of cure I need right now.

  “Two Hawaiians,” I say when I reach the counter, knowing full well there’s absolutely zero chance of me finishing two slices but ready to give it the college try, anyway. “And a garlic knot. And a large Coke.”

  The girl behind the counter lifts one eyebrow at me, looking behind me like I brought a friend.

  “Nope, no one else, honey. It’s just me and a testy appetite, so stop judging and tell me what I owe you.”

  A laugh breaks loose at a booth to my right and I snap my head to the source of it, heart stopping when I find Adam staring back at me.

  “Easy, killer,” he says, lifting himself from the booth and pulling his wallet from his pocket. He slides the cashier his card, eyeing me with amusement as she runs it through the machine. “You and that testy appetite of yours want some company?”

  I try to glare at him, but a smile breaks loose and I flop into the booth dramatically. He chuckles, bringing the tray with my pizza and drink over to the table before sliding in on the other side.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asks, pushing the parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes toward me.

  I shake fresh parmesan on my first slice and shrug, keeping my eyes on the pizza. “Grayson and I were supposed to go on a date tonight but he bailed last minute. It’s fine,” I say quickly, feeling a little bad talking about Grayson to Adam. Even if I am upset, I already know how Adam feels about Grayson. “He apologized and he’s going to make it up to me, but I’m just a little bummed.”

  “That’s understandable,” he says, the weight of his eyes still on me as I take my first bite. “But sometimes things come up. I’m sure he’s just as sad as you are that he had to cancel.”

  I pause mid-bite, glancing up at Adam. There has to be a hint of sarcasm there somewhere, I think, but find no traces when I search his eyes. He seems genuine, and for some reason that brings the dead butterflies in the pit of my stomach back to life.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, his voice softer.

  I swallow, cheeks flushing as I reach for my drink.

  “Thank you, Adam.”

  He smiles, finishing off his own pizza before changing the subject. He asks me how my classes are going and tells me all about the concert aftermath and his time as president so far. I fill him in on the dodgeball tournament prep and he tells me about the summer spent with his aunt, the one whom he lived with after his grandpa passed away. After an hour passes, the sadness I felt from Grayson cancelling is like a dull ache in the back of my mind. After two, it’s gone completely, and I’m laughing and eating too much instead of feeling sorry for myself.

  “I was thinking about going back to the A Sig house and putting on a movie,” Adam says when the same cashier who rang us up starts wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. It’s almost eleven. “You’re more than welcome to join, if you want to.”

  His eyes are hopeful as he waits for my response, and a wave rushes through me at the thought of spending more time with him. We always have so much fun, but a bigger part of me knows it’s the feeling I have when I’m with him that I want to hold onto. I should feel guilty for wanting it at all, but I don’t.

  Still, I have a head on my shoulders, and I know when to walk away from trouble.

  “I think I should probably get back to the house,” I say, gathering our empty plates onto one tray. “I have class pretty early.”

  Adam smiles, shrugging it off. “No biggie. Maybe another time.”

  We clean up our table and Adam waves to a guy back in the kitchen before holding the door open for me, the bell sounding a little less sad this time as I step into the warm summer night.

  Adam walks me to the Kappa Kappa Beta house, carrying the conversation easily until we reach the front steps. I turn to face him, folding my arms over my chest as he slides his hands easily into his pockets with his eyes on mine. It’s quiet on campus now, only a few other students still out, the soft rush of water from the fountain filling most of the silence.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I say softly.

  He watches me for a moment longer, and instead of responding, he untucks his hands from his pockets and reaches for me, pulling me into his chest.

  I hate this feeling.

  It’s the feeling reserved for Adam, the one only he can elicit from me. He owns it. No one else has ever made my body react the way it does when we’re in situations like this, his arms around me, my head on his chest, boundaries between us that feel invisible and like barbed wire all at once. He looks at me, my stomach tightens. He holds me, my chest aches. He lets me go, whispering a goodnight before turning to walk away, and everything I’ve ever known about how to breathe disappears.

  I hate this feeling.

  I hope it never goes away.

  THE AIRPORT IS SURPRISINGLY busy for a Wednesday evening, men in business suits and families dressed in Mickey Mouse gear speeding by me in both directions as I wait at the bottom of the escalator.

  Jarrett’s plane landed ten minutes ago, which means he should be coming down the escalator toward baggage claim any second now. I can’t stop bouncing, my hands a little shaky as I wring them together and watch the top of the moving stairs, waiting to see that glorious bald head.

  Boys never make me nervous — ever. But I haven’t seen Jarrett since he left for his internship at the very beginning of the summer, and that was right after I admitted out loud that I loved him. Sure, video chatting has been a nice distraction, but it’s no substitute for the real thing. Just imagining his hands on me, his lips on mine, his body — so hard, covered with tattoos… it’s enough to make me come in a crowded airport before even setting eyes on him.

  I pull out my phone, checking the time once more before shoving it in my back pocket again. A few more minutes pass and I debate calling him, but just as I go to grab my phone again, he appears at the top of the escalator.

  And time stops.

  Seconds stretch and tick as I take him in — his tan, smooth head, the scruff lining his jaw, the way his simple, navy t-shirt hugs the muscles on his arms and chest, tapering off at his narrow waist. And when my eyes find his, when the corner of his mouth quirks up in a small smirk, I can’t take it anymore.

  I run to him.

  “Excuse me, sorry, excuse me.” I push through the other travelers on the stairs, working against gravity as they move down and I try to move up…up to him.

  Jarrett cracks a wider smile watching me struggle, nearly laughing by the time I reach him and throw my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his with a sigh of relief. His strong arm holds me close and lifts me from the ground, my feet dangling just a few inches above the escalator stairs as he kisses me with everyone watching. His other hand dips into my hair as one arm holds me steady against him, and I tug him closer by his shirt, wanting more, needing him closer.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper against his lips, kissing him before he can answer.

  He wraps both arms around me when we reach the bottom of the escalator, making sure we’re on solid ground before he drops my feet down. I’m still holding his shirt, feeling the fabric between my fingers, rolling it around to make sure it’s real.

  He’s here.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he says, pullin
g back to look into my eyes. His are still the same deep mocha, gold spiraling out from each pupil as he scans my body the way I did his. “Let’s grab my bag and get out of here.”

  We can’t keep our hands off each other, not the entire time we wait in baggage claim or on the walk to the taxi lane as I run over everything I have planned for the long weekend. We only have five days together, and I plan to make the most of it.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to introduce me to your sisters,” he says when we slide into the backseat of a black sedan. I tell the driver the address of Jarrett’s hotel and she smiles politely with a nod.

  “It’s about damn time.”

  “Well, we couldn’t exactly broadcast our relationship before.”

  “No,” I agree. “But now, I’m going to show you off like a pack of gel pens at show and tell. Everyone on campus is going to know you’re mine by the time you leave.”

  Jarrett chuckles, eyeing the driver’s rearview mirror before leaning in to nuzzle my neck. “You wanna show me off, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly, one hand sliding up the inside of my thigh and up to the hem of my jean shorts.

  My eyes flutter closed at the contact of his skin on mine, chills racing up to my core. “Mm-hmm,” I manage in answer.

  “What if I don’t want to leave the hotel room?”

  He slips two fingers up under the denim fabric of my shorts, brushing the tips against my panties. I bite my lip hard, squirming under his touch, eyes opening just enough to make sure the driver isn’t looking at us in her mirror.

  I can’t even respond, especially when his lips find my neck again. He kisses me softly, fingers running along the edge of my panties before he dips them inside. My lips are pinned between my teeth to hold back my moans, but when Jarrett circles my clit twice and then slides both fingers inside me at once, I nearly combust, letting out a loud pant as my eyes snap open.

  The driver glances back at us and Jarrett rests his head on my shoulder. I offer her a smile and she narrows her eyes, but focuses them back on the road again, and as soon as she does, Jarrett withdraws his fingers and slides them in again, wiggling his fingertips to curl against my G-spot.