“Erin was supposed to meet up with the kid who bought her at the auction and I’m not sure where Ashlei and Bo are,” Jess answers. “Have you guys noticed Ashlei being weird lately?”
“I mean, she was mugged,” Cassie says softly, reminding us all of what the entire campus was trying to forget. “I’m not sure I’d be exactly normal after that, either.”
“Even before that, though. She seems off, like she’s hiding something.”
“I could say the same about my Big,” I add. Jess sniffs, avoiding my comment, and I lift a brow. “Wait, do you know something?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I’m just thinking.”
“Well, why don’t we divide and conquer. You try to talk to Ashlei, I’ll see if I can get my Big to open up.”
“Deal.”
“What about me?” Cassie asks.
“You just worry about adding some leather to your wardrobe,” Jess says and we all laugh, but Jess’ face falls quickly. “Wait. Is that guy taking pictures of us?”
My stomach drops and I sit up quickly, my eyes scanning the beach for what Jess is seeing. When I spot a tall man, dressed in khakis and a polo, large camera strapped around his neck and lens focused on the three of us, I curse.
“Oh my God, he is taking pictures of us.” Cassie reaches for her sundress, hastily yanking it over her head just as Jess pops up, stomping toward the man.
“Jess! Don’t!” I jump up, too, grabbing her elbow and spinning her back around just as she yells obscenities at the man, his camera still fixed on us. “He’s probably a reporter for a sports network or blog. We need to get out of here.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re a poker player and a college student, for God’s sake, don’t they have better shit to do?”
“Apparently not.”
We gather up our stuff quickly, making our way toward the small private beach parking lot. I check my board back into the surf shop I keep it at on our way and we all pile into Jess’ car, the man following us the entire way.
“Is this going to happen all the time now, Big?” Cassie asks as Jess throws the car into drive, flipping the reporter off as we pull away.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, my mind racing.
“What are you going to do?”
I blow out a breath. “Wear cuter bathing suits, I guess.”
I try for humor but fail, the heaviness of the situation settling around all of us. My Little offers a sad smile before turning back around and Jess clicks on the radio, volume up full blast. Thumbing through the contacts in my phone, I type out a text to my dad, hoping he’ll know what to do.
Jess rolls our windows down, letting the warm breeze blow through our beach-tangled hair. I drop my hand out the window, riding the wind waves, eyes blurring as the scenery races by. Something tells me this is the last calm moment before everything in my life changes, and I try to hold onto it for as long as I can.
But just like the wind, the moment is fleeting, and I know any moment I’ll wake up in my new normal.
I just hope I’m ready.
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT WATCHING GRAYSON play guitar that really gets to me. The way his hands strum the strings, each pluck so familiar to him, his rough voice rising just above the chords and combing through the warm air of Cup O’ Joe’s — it’s enough to make a girl literally swoon. His bright blue eyes scan the coffee shop as he sings, dropping to his hands every once in a while, finding mine at the perfect times — when he wants me to really hear the words he’s singing.
I just sip my coffee and smile at him, mesmerized, wondering why in the world he picked me for his muse. It’s almost amusing how many girls fall over themselves trying to get him to notice them. They drop twenties in his tip jar, usually with their phone number, and sway their hips as they walk away. They cheer each time he finishes a song, they request Manchester Orchestra or other bands that they think might make him take them seriously, they compliment his beard or trace their fingers over one of his tattoos, pretending to be interested in the story behind them. Yet somehow, his eyes are fixed on mine, and I can’t shake how lucky that makes me feel.
We’ve been a on a few dates, mostly dinners and movie nights, and each time I find myself falling a little more for him. We longboard for hours, talking about everything and nothing — laughing, existing. He took me to a local concert in the park downtown and we’ve even studied together, which usually involves less time studying our notes and more time studying each other. Not that I mind.
We’re seemingly nothing alike — he’s a tattooed musician with dreams of moving to New York City after graduation and I’m a freckle-faced Biology major who passes out at the mere thought of a needle going into my skin.
The stark contrast between us reminds me of the conversation I overheard between Adam and Jeremy the other night, and I frown.
They were walking toward the Student Union when I spotted them and I quickened my pace, thinking I could walk with them, but when I got close enough to hear their conversation, I slowed a little at the mention of my name. Jeremy was asking Adam which girls he thought would be good for their next philanthropy event — a B-list celebrity fight featuring two older fighters who happen to live in the Miami area. They need ring girls, and when Jeremy suggested me, Adam was quick to turn down the thought.
“She’s too much of a good girl for that.”
I tried not to take it personally, but how else is there to take it? He didn’t say it like it was a characteristic I should be proud of, but rather like I would fail at the job. And though I’ve tried to strip Adam of the power he somehow holds over me, it still hurt to hear him say it. Add in the fact that my Big and Jess both agreed with him, and it’s been practically impossible to let it go.
I snap my attention back to Grayson just as he finishes the last note of an X Ambassadors song, his bright smile revealing itself behind his beard, girls clapping and whistling when he blushes slightly.
“I’m going to take a quick break, and I’m taking requests when I return, so don’t go anywhere,” he says into the mic, tossing a wink at me that makes two girls at the table behind me nearly fall out of their chair. I just shake my head.
Grayson pulls his guitar strap over his head and props the instrument against the large metal bar stool he was seated on, hopping off the stage and making his way toward me. It’s like slow motion as he walks, the muscles in his arms shifting as he shakes out his long, chestnut hair just to re-tie it in a haphazard bun again. I stand, smiling, and he pulls me in close, pressing his lips hard on mine to a symphony of groans from the rest of the girls in the shop. He knows they’re here to flirt with him, yet he still makes it a point to show he’s with me.
Yep, officially swooning.
“Come to the back with me? I need some water.”
I nod, head still fuzzy as he grabs my hand in his and weaves us through the STAFF ONLY doors to a small back room. It has two faded purple couches and one long, dark, wooden coffee table along with an old stereo currently crooning out an old 90’s alternative song I’m not familiar with. Grayson plops down onto one of the couches with a sigh, pulling me with him so that I straddle his hips.
“What happened to needing water?” I ask, giggling.
“I lied,” he says with a grin, hands skating up my arms to frame my face and pull me into him. His beard tickles my skin as he presses his lips to mine and I fist my hands in his shirt, pulling, wanting him closer yet knowing I’m afraid of being too close at the same time.
So far, all we’ve done is kiss, and it’s not that our make-out sessions aren’t amazing — because that’s an understatement — but I know Grayson wants more. Hell, I want more – but after Clay, I’m hesitant to take it too far too fast. I know Grayson would never push me, but I can only wonder how much longer he’ll stick around if I keep holding out.
Breaking our kiss, I undo his bun and run my fingers through his long shaggy hair, massaging the scalp. His eyes close and he rests his head on the back
of the couch, smiling. “That feels amazing.”
“I love watching you play. You’re really good, you know that?”
He chuckles, his hands gripping my hips. “Thank you. Let’s hope the big wigs in New York feel the same way.” He opens his eyes just enough to wink at me before letting them close again.
“They would be crazy not to.”
We’re quiet for a moment, my hands still running through his hair, his fingers playing with the hem of my blouse.
“Are you excited for Spring Break?”
I frown. “I’d be more excited if you were coming with me.”
“Not really my thing,” he says, pulling my hands to his lips. He kisses them with a smile and ties his hair back before letting his hands find my waist again. “You’ll have all your sisters to keep you busy. Plus, I have to work.”
“I know. Doesn’t make me wish you were coming any less, though.”
He smiles, blue eyes shining, the gold flecks in them playful. “You know, we could have our own Spring Break. Wear our bathing suits, grind on each other, get wasted.”
“Oh?” I cock a brow as his grin widens. “And where exactly would we host this Spring Break?”
“In my dorm room, of course. I’ll even put on some Skrillex for good measure.”
“Well now you’ve thought of everything.”
“Exactly. Can’t turn down such a well-thought-out plan.”
“Guess not,” I agree, leaning in to kiss him. His hands tighten on my hips and he rocks me against him, causing my breath to hitch at the contact. Grayson deepens the kiss, wrapping his strong arms completely around me, surrounding me with his warmth. He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and lets it go with a pop, fingers gliding just beneath the hem of my jeans, eyes hooded as he searches me for permission — permission I can’t give him. Not yet.
“Can I ask you something?” I breathe and he nods, kissing me once before letting me continue. “Do you think I’m a good girl?”
His brows furrow at my question, his hand stilling. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.”
I laugh. “You’re not, I promise. Just be honest.”
He blows out a breath, releasing his grip around me and leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know. I think you’re kind and sweet, and I definitely wouldn’t say you’re any of the things I associate with a quote unquote bad girl.”
I sigh, but kiss him quickly to let him know it’s not him I’m upset with. “Are you busy next weekend? There’s a fraternity party Saturday night that everyone’s going to, and I want you to come with me.”
“You sure I’ll be allowed? Frats aren’t exactly inviting of non-brothers.”
“It’s an open invitation,” I assure him. “And you’ll be with me. Please?”
Grayson hums, thinking, thumbs still lightly circling the exposed skin above my jeans. “How can I say no to those pouty lips?”
Smiling, I lean down and press said lips to his, letting him pull me in closer for the few minutes we have left before his next set. And though having his hands and mouth on me are my main focus, my mind drifts to everything I need to do to get ready for next weekend. Everyone has it in their mind that I’m this innocent little girl, incapable of owning the vixen inside me. Well, maybe I don’t always pull her out and throw her on display for everyone to see, but next weekend, that’s exactly what I plan to do.
Time to show them a Cassie McBee they’ve never seen before.
One they’ll never forget.
MY HEAD ACHES AS I BLOW HARD into a tissue, folding it in half and wiping at my raw nose again. “Gross,” I murmur, dropping it into the light blue trash can in mine and Skyler’s bathroom. Still sniffling, my dark eyes scan my appearance in the mirror. My skin is ashy white, nose like fucking Rudolph, hair greasy, eyes droopy. I look like complete shit, and regardless of how I try to act, I feel like it, too.
The most obvious thing to do in this situation is haul my happy ass to the campus health clinic, but just the thought of it makes me groan. I hate doctors — of all kinds. Dentists, nurses, vag docs — all of them. I hate the way it smells in a doctor’s office, the way you have to weigh in every time, how long you have to sit before the grumpy old man waddles in to shove a thermometer in your throat and judge you for the amount of wax in your ears just to tell you you’re fine and buy some over-the-counter meds. It’s all an inconvenient circus and I’m over it before I even think of making the call for an appointment.
Throwing on a hoodie even though I know it’s far from cold in the house, I pad down the hallway to Erin and Ashlei’s room and let myself in without knocking. Erin is seated at her desk, head down, scribbling in her planner. Four highlighters are set up to the left of her hand and I sink into her sheets as she color codes her life.
“Don’t bring your virus in here, J-Love,” she barks without even looking up.
“Oh, shut it. I’m fine. What are you doing tonight?”
She sighs, shutting her planner and popping the caps back on her highlighters. “Landon is supposed to take me to dinner.”
“Well don’t seem so excited.”
“I was hoping to go through my closet and make the agenda for the council meeting this Wednesday.”
I eye her as I reach across her bed and rummage through her snack drawer. “You’re kind of weird, Ex. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She shrugs. “I just like to throw myself into things I can control, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe you need to loosen up a little. You’ve been wound too tight since the semester started. I think this new position is putting a lot of pressure on you. Plus you had that stomach flu.”
She blinks, crossing to her closet and flitting through the side with all her dresses. “Yeah. You’re right. It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”
I shake my head, unrolling a bag of veggie chips and popping one into my mouth. Just chewing is so much effort and my appetite is nonexistent, so I huff and roll the bag back up, tossing it in her drawer again.
“Is it my turn to lecture you?” I know she’s trying to joke about me being sick, but her eyes are so tired, so sad. There’s something going on with her that she’s not telling us.
“Erin, are you okay? Seriously. I know you had that pregnancy scare, and I’m sure even though the test was negative, it was probably pretty awful taking it on your own.”
“I’m fine,” she clips, stripping down to her underwear just to throw on a tight, lavender, knee-length dress. Ashlei flies through the door just as Erin bends to pull out her tall nude heels.
“Lei! What are you doing tonight? Hang out with me,” I whine. That’s one of my best qualities when I’m sick. I turn into the whiniest, neediest bitch ever. The problem is that what I want most right now is to either A, get drunk, or B, call Jarrett. And neither of those would be smart. Getting drunk would probably make me even sicker than I already am, and there’s no way I could hook up with Jarrett with my snotty face and germy mouth, so what else could we really do? Nothing that would keep us in the safely non-defined zone we’re in right now, that much I know.
“Uh, Bo and I are actually heading out to see the new Nicholas Sparks movie.”
I groan. “Booooo. I don’t want to go out. Can’t we stay in? Sneak a bottle of wine and watch one of the other cry-inducing movies he has out already?” I don’t even care that I just invited myself to crash their night. If she’s lying to me about what her and Bo’s relationship is, she should at least have to work to preserve that lie.
“We kind of already bought the tickets, J-Love.” Ashlei frowns, tying her long blond hair up in a high pony. “I’m sorry. You can come, though. If you want. But I totally understand if you’re not up for it.”
As much as I want to crash what I’m positive is a date and make them sweat, I don’t have the energy to. They’ll both live to lie another day.
“Ugh. Where is Skyler? And Cassie?”
“Skyler’s playing at a tournament downtown,” Erin says, checking
her makeup in the mirror.
Ashlei nods. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure Cassie said she’s hanging out with Grayson. They were going to check out some art festival that’s in town.”
I groan louder, exaggerating the noise, being as annoying as humanly possible. “Why is everyone happily living their lives tonight?”
Ashlei chuckles. “Just go to the doctor, Jess. Stop fighting it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh huh,” she says, shaking her head.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a cold.”
“Whatever you say. Don’t spread your germs to my side of the room.”
“Oh don’t worry, she’s too busy rolling them around all over my pillow,” Erin adds as she opens their bedroom door. “Make sure you Lysol before you leave.” I toss a throw pillow at both of them just as they squeeze through the opening, laughing.
When they’re gone and I’m alone, I sigh loudly, glancing at my phone and groaning again at the two missed texts from Jarrett. I’ve been avoiding him, which probably isn’t a smart move, considering how that worked out for me last time. Although, I really wouldn’t mind being fucked in a dark closet right about now. But ever since I saw him with that girl at Pie Heaven, I haven’t answered his texts. Which is stupid. And petty.
Mrs. Stupid and Petty herself, ladies and gentlemen.
Huffing, I heave myself off Erin’s bed and mope down the hallway to my own, burying myself in the covers. I tuck my phone under my pillow and will myself not to look at it again. Calling Jarrett and asking him to hang out with me while I’m sick would be crossing the line into boyfriend territory, and that’s the last thing I want — the last thing he wants, obviously. We both understand what we are and what we are not, even if I am butt-hurt over him going to lunch with another girl, and sick cuddle buddies definitely falls on the what-we-are-not-list.
But the more time that passes, the more I want to text him — see him, be around him. The scary thing is that I don’t even want to hook up, not really — not specifically, anyway. It would be a nice added feature to the package but really, I just want his company. I want to make him laugh, I want to hear him talk about his day, I want to put my feet in his lap and watch a movie. And the more that realization sets in, the harder it is to keep myself from picking up the phone — from giving into a feeling I haven’t had in over a year.
Palm South University: Season 2 Box Set Page 9
