Legacy_A New Adult College Romance

by Kandi Steiner

  I want answers, and yet I don’t want anything else from Kip at all.

  Other than maybe for him to go back in time and never come into my life at all.

  “You know,” I say after a moment, sniffing. “This just might be the worst downswing I’ve ever experienced.”

  I turn to him again, waiting until his eyes are on mine before I continue.

  “I never could have expected I’d lose so much of my self betting on you.”

  I know the words cut him deep. His eyes sag, brows pinching together. One of his hands twitches, like he wants to reach for me, but I just turn away again, staring out the window and waiting for the ride to end.

  But Kip is just like me.

  He can’t let go.

  “I love you.”

  His words fly into space without warning, and I choke on a sob I didn’t expect, shaking my head and trying with all my might to fight off the wave of tears. But I can’t fight anymore, and as the first tears wet my cheeks, my heart twists in defeat.

  “Well, I fucking hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  I face him again, my chest tight, tears hot on my face. “I want to.”

  God, do I want to. I don’t think I’ve ever wished for anything more than to disconnect from my feelings in this moment, to take his face and associate it with pain and betrayal instead of love and comfort.

  Kip just swallows, his mouth opening like he wants to say something before he snaps it shut again. And when we pull up to the KKB house, he jumps out, quickly making his way around to my door. In an instant, his arm is around my waist, mine over his shoulder as he peels me out of the cab and helps me up to the porch.

  “Are you okay?” he asks when we make it. “Are you going to be sick?”

  And I just laugh, because the irony of the boy causing me the most pain asking if alcohol is going to be the reason I have a shit night is just too much.

  “I’m fine,” I bite, pulling out of his grasp to stand on my own. “I’ve been drunk a few times before, you know.”

  “I just want you to be okay.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Kip swallows, stepping back with a slight nod as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. There are so many words hanging between us, suspended in a void we can’t quite reach. There’s so much still left to say, and yet, there’s nothing more to say at all.

  A fresh tear streaks down my cheek without warning, and I swipe it away, wishing I could do the same to the love I feel for Kip. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s just past midnight — on a date I know I’ll never forget, not since the cruise when Kip had me figure out what his lucky number was.

  “See you in Vegas,” I say, reaching for the door handle when I turn. But I pause, heart squeezing as I look back over my shoulder. “Oh, and happy birthday.”

  I close the door behind me, climb the stairs, and crawl into bed still in my dress, hoping sleep will kill the pain.

  Thankfully, I don’t dream of Kip.

  That’s the only mercy I’m shown.

  * * *

  When I check into my room at the Aria the night before the tournament, I can’t help but feel like a bird in the pouring down rain — so desperate to fly, yet with no means to get off the ground.

  I’m broken, and I just wish the only thing that could fix me wasn’t the one thing I need to stay away from.

  The past month has been absolute hell.

  I somehow managed to make it through the rest of the semester and finish out my classes, but just barely. Practicing for the tournament has been nothing but me playing like complete shit. I’m off my game, and it’s not a secret, anymore.

  I drop my luggage and sit down on the bed, looking around at the beautiful room. I have an incredible view of the Strip from my window and the bed is luxurious. Whites and purples cover the room and every amenity is top of the line and brand new. The Aria is one of the newer hotels on the Strip and this is the first year they’ve hosted the American Poker Club Tournament. I just wish I had someone here to celebrate this amazing room with me.

  I thought it would be Kip here with me.

  I planned on asking him to join me before everything happened. My Little was going to come, but I knew she wanted to get a head start on her summer classes, so I told her it was okay. I’m sure the other girls would have come, too, but to be honest, I was tired of them asking if I was okay.

  Why is it that I can hold everything together until someone asks me that one question? I’m fine… until you ask me if I’m fine.

  Then I’m not fine, at all.

  It’s the exact same feeling when I think about Kip calling me. He checked on me the day after formal, and I basically told him to fuck off. And though part of me wished he would fight me on it, he didn’t.

  He’s left me alone just like I asked him to.

  Isn’t it funny how sometimes we tell someone to fuck off, but then wish more than anything that they would just call?

  I sigh, still looking around the room as I try to prepare myself for the night. They’re hosting a tournament pre-party tonight downstairs, and even though I don’t want to go, I know I need to make an appearance.

  For one, everyone in the blogosphere has been talking about how I’ve been off my game, so I need to try to fake that I’m fine so they see I’m still here to compete.

  And two, I want to scope out my competition. A lot of people register last minute, just like I did, and I want to see who I’m going to be facing the next two days.

  I pull out the black cocktail dress I packed for the party and slip it on, curling my hair and touching up my makeup before heading downstairs. The party is already packed and I run into a few friends from past tournaments almost immediately. When I say friends, I mean either competition or other female players. For some reason, we all gravitate to one another. I guess because we all understand what it’s like to be on the “hot or not” list.

  Stupid sexist magazines.

  I grab a plate of hors d’oeuvres, even though I haven’t really eaten anything in the past three weeks, and snag a glass of honey whiskey from the bartender before finding a table near the back of the room. The lights are off, but there’s multicolored uplighting and lights that move with the music from the DJ. On any other day, I would be stoked to be here. I would be taking in everything and how amazing it is here in Vegas, one of my favorite places in the world, but right now I just can’t. I need to get myself pulled together before tomorrow.

  I just really don’t know how.

  “This seat taken?” he asks, and I know it’s Kip without even looking up from my plate. I shake my head and he sits down. For some reason, I still can’t look up.

  “Hi,” he says softly, and I find the strength to pull my eyes to his. He’s dressed in a long-sleeve, white button-up and black vest, and of course he’s wearing his glasses.

  Perfect.

  The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair styled perfectly, and his skin is a beautiful bronze. Maybe he’s been lounging by the pool living the good life. I don’t know, but whatever he’s been doing, he looks amazing.

  And I know I look like shit.

  “Hi.”

  He takes a pull of his drink, surveying me. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  I really want to make some smart-ass comment back to him, but I just don’t think it’s worth it. And I need my head on straight tomorrow. I can’t let him faze me tonight.

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  He cocks a brow. “You think I’m beautiful, huh?”

  I roll my eyes, but a smile threatens at the corners of my mouth and it’s the first time I’ve had that urge in a while. “Like a shark before he eats his prey.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I’m like Sparky?”

  I laugh a little at his reference to the little stuffed shark I won him on our first date, forgoing playing with my food on my plate and taking a drink instead. “Sparky i
s fluffier than you. I think I like him more.”

  “Hey, I’ve put on a few pounds. I might be fighting Sparky for that fluffy title here pretty soon.”

  He doesn’t look like he’s put on even a single ounce. In fact, he looks like he’s lost weight — especially in his face. It’s then that I take a closer look at him — the bags under his eyes, the tired expression behind his smile. Maybe this hasn’t been as easy for him as I thought.

  “Skyler, I need to talk to you.”

  I close my eyes, setting my drink on the table. “Please don’t do this, Kip. Not before tomorrow.”

  “It’s not about us,” he clarifies, but then he bites the inside of his lip a little. “Well, not entirely. I just need you to know something before tomorrow, before we start this tournament. I want you to understand.”

  Pulling the glass to my lips, I drain the rest of my whiskey and cross my arms on the table, bracing for impact. I have no idea what he could possibly say to make me understand why he’s here, why he’s doing this to me. But, I remember running to him on our cruise, desperate to make him understand the whole Erin situation when I knew I didn’t even deserve him listening to a word I said.

  I owe him the same courtesy.

  “Skyler,” he starts, and the way he says my name is almost too much. It’s almost enough for me to get up and walk out. “I did come to Palm South to seek you out. My dad has been watching you play for years and when he found out you were entering this tournament, or well, rumored to be, anyway — he made me a deal. If I came to this school and got close enough to you to learn how to take you down at this tournament, he would pay for me to go to my dream school — UCLA.”

  He pauses, probably reading the confusion on my face. Why the hell would his dad target me of all players?

  “Please don’t take it personally,” he says quickly. “My dad doesn’t have a vendetta against you or anything, it’s just that he thinks you’re the best in the game right now. And you’re also one of the youngest. I don’t know,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess he felt like if everything he’s taught me about the game could help me beat you or at least keep up and compete, he would be ‘beating the best’, in a way.”

  I’m oddly flattered, but still can’t understand how Kip could go through with that deal — not after he actually met me, after we fell in love.

  Or was it only me who did the falling?

  “He even made that crazy fucking file that you found.” Kip says, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s like he’s living through me. And I didn’t understand that before, not for a long time. But I get it now.”

  He shakes his head, almost as if he’s jumping to something too quickly — something he’s not ready to say yet.

  “Anyway, I’ve been going to community college the past couple of years because I couldn’t afford anything else without my dad’s help. And I know there are loans and I could work, but to be honest, I just didn’t think it through. I was lazy, I was selfish, and I wanted my father’s help. So, when he offered it, I jumped on the chance.”

  I inhale a deep breath and lift my glass, trying to suck the remaining whiskey from the ice cubes. Kip pauses for a moment, his attention falling to my mouth as I swirl the cube around inside. A surge runs straight through me when I realize why he’s distracted. And no matter how much I try not to like it, I love the power I still have over him.

  So, I grab another cube.

  But he tears his eyes away, continuing. “When I met you that night at rush, I didn’t know who you were. You have to know that,” he pleads earnestly. “I found out that night when I went back to my apartment. That first night between us was all us — you didn’t know about Erin, I didn’t know about you — it was just us and the way we felt together.”

  My chest squeezes, stomach tightening, too, at the thought of seeing him for the first time that night. I can close my eyes and still feel his tongue on my stomach, licking up the tequila before he kissed me.

  I shiver, but don’t say a word.

  “When I did find out it was you my dad had sent me to Palm South for, I almost called it off then,” Kip says, licking his lips. “I fell for you that first night, Skyler. The first time my eyes found yours. When you called me a nerd and said I looked like a Matthew.” He laughs a little and I do, too. “You had me. Right then.”

  We both sit silent for just a second, just a split second after that laugh before he takes a breath and continues.

  “But it’s my dad, and this was his deal. For a while, I let that drive me. Then, when I was close to calling everything off because I was starting to fall for you, you ended it at the dance. And then I was more determined than ever to take you down. But then things changed again, and fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair again and lets out a puff of air. “Everything was just such a mess, Skyler. My head was fucked up. But I tried calling my dad to tell him the deal was off before the cruise.”

  I sit up a little straighter at his words. “You did?”

  He nods. “Yes. But, he didn’t answer, and I should have known then that something was wrong.” Kip swallows hard and his eyes grow darker. “But I called him as soon as we got off the boat, Skyler. And my mom answered. And once again, when I thought I was done with his game, shit got more complicated.”

  I inhale, waiting for him to continue. Something tells me what he’s about to say is difficult for him, and even though I still feel that little pang of anger deep in my stomach, I try to give him the time he needs to gather the words.

  “My dad is sick, Skyler.” He chokes on the words a little, his façade breaking. “He has lung cancer. And he’s not going to live much longer.”

  And just like that, there’s no oxygen left in the room.

  My chest tightens again, this time from a completely different kind of pain. I think of my own dad, of what I would do if the same were true for him, and it’s too much to bear. Tears immediately sting the backs of my eyes, but I hold them back, because this isn’t my time to cry. This is my time to listen and be there for Kip, even if I’m not sure I can be.

  His dad is sick.

  And now, suddenly, everything between us seems so small.

  “Oh my God, Kip.” I shake my head, reaching out to grab his hand in mine. He flinches at first, but then he takes mine in his and squeezes like it’s the last thing in life he has to hold on to. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a bitch. God, I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. I didn’t tell you. I was going to that night at formal, but you weren’t exactly in the best state.”

  He eyes me for a second and I blush, looking down at the table. I made an ass of myself that night and I know it.

  “I know this doesn’t change anything between us. I know I still betrayed you, lied to you, earned your trust when I didn’t deserve it. I know that,” he says, his voice fading. “But, I wanted you to understand. I needed you to be able to look at me from across the table tomorrow and know that I’m here for my dad, not because I don’t love you. Because I do. I love you, Skyler.”

  He pulls me across the table and our lips meet in the middle, his hands moving to either side of my face. I let him kiss me and I kiss him back, but my heart is still torn. I still don’t know what to believe. I don’t know what was real between us and what was an act.

  I’m still broken.

  I wish this kiss alone could put me back together, but it can’t.

  When he pulls back, he runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek once before dropping his hands. We both stand there for a moment, and I know this very well could be the last time I stand this close to him. We’ll be at the tournament together, but there’s no telling if either of us will even make it far enough to sit at the same table together. And after this, he’ll be gone from Palm South.

  From me.

  “Is your dad here?”

  He hangs his head. “He can’t travel right now. He’s watching from home.”

  A pain sh
oots through my heart and I bite my lips together. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

  Kip nods, trying to smile but failing. Finally, he looks up at me once more, his diamond blue eyes glimmering in the soft light. “For the record, I hope you win tomorrow.”

  I cock my brow and he leans in, kissing my forehead.

  “I want to win for my dad, yes,” he says, eyes still on me. “But, more than anything, I want to see you happy. And if that means you kick my ass tomorrow, then so be it.”

  My skin stings from where his lips touched my head, and my fingers move to the spot as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a long, slender case. He hands it to me and I know what it is without even opening it.

  “Good luck, number four.”

  He winks before turning and walking away. I watch as he walks across the room until he disappears behind the doors and I lose sight of him. Then, I grab what was left of his drink and down it, open the case, and try not to show any emotion.

  Inside are the same glasses he got me before, though I know he smashed that pair, so this is a new one. On the top left of the left lens, there are four gold dots, just like my freckle tattoo. I swallow hard, closing the case again before sitting back in my chair.

  For some reason, I find myself wondering if Kip has a tell.

  What is the sign that he’s bluffing? I can always spot it, a person’s giveaway. Always. I can read every single human being I meet.

  But not him.

  Why? When he tells me he loves me, why do I believe it’s true? Yet, there’s still something warning me that maybe, just maybe, he’s bluffing.

  But what could his tell be?

  Is it the way he kisses me? The way he runs his hands through my hair? The way his eyes shift from dark blue to sky blue? The way he smiles when I touch him?

  What is it that will give me the true answer?