Ritual: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 5)

by Kandi Steiner

  “What if you just asked him?” Skyler suggests.

  “Ask him what?”

  “Ask him on a date,” she says with a shrug. “Or, better yet, tell him you’re going on a date. See what he says.”

  My instant reaction is to shake my head and scream out absolutely not, but her words slide over me like silk, and I lean into them, wrapping them around myself like a blanket.

  Could it be that simple?

  Could I just tell Kade what I want, and him reciprocate it?

  Everything in my body screams a resounding hell no, but already, I’m up out of my chair, throwing on my cover up and sliding into my sandals.

  “Where are you going?” Erin asks.

  “To the Alpha Sigma house.”

  “To…?”

  I look at all of them. “To tell that motherfucker that he’s taking me on a date.”

  That earns me a burst of laughter, and they each smack my ass and holler out encouragements as I dash out of the backyard and down Greek Row.

  I burst into the A Sig house just like I did that first time I came to tease Kade, only this time, the house is mostly empty — likely due to it being such a beautiful day outside. I head straight back to Kade’s room, but find it empty, and I frown, hanging my hands on my hips.

  Where are you? I text him.

  The house. What’s up?

  Where at in the house?

  Outside playing beer pong with the guys.

  I weave my way through the house and outside, and there are at least a dozen brothers in their swim trunks, jamming to country music and playing beer pong and having an arm-wrestling competition at a nearby table.

  At the sight of me, all the commotion stops.

  Kade’s right in the middle of a game, and before he can shoot the ping pong ball across the table and into his opponent’s cup, I slide in front of him, taking it from his hand.

  “What the—”

  “I want more.”

  Kade’s smile slips off his face at my words, and he shoves his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, cocking a brow at me. “Um… hi?”

  “Hi,” I say. “I want more.”

  “More what?”

  “More than mind-blowing, toe-curling, name-screaming sex.”

  That earns a few whistles and atta boys from his brothers, and I flick them all off before crossing my arms over my chest and focusing back on Kade. The noise around us picks up again, as if everyone has gone back to their business while Kade smirks down at me.

  “Okay, then,” he says, leaning a hip against the table. “What do you want?”

  “I want to go on a date.”

  Kade’s eyes trail over me, locking on my cleavage still visible even in my cover up. When his eyes find mine again, his grin widens. “Friday?”

  I clear my throat, aiming for nonchalance. “Fine.”

  With my mission accomplished, I turn, tossing the ping pong ball across the table. It bounces once and sinks into the right back cup, and the boys roar in approval.

  I wink at Kade, who’s laughing his ass off, and then I waltz my ass right on out of there with a victory smile on my face.

  I AM THE MOST pathetic piece of shit.

  I run another hand through my greasy hair, feeling that sentence sink into my veins like venom. I haven’t slept more than a few hours since the Halloween party, when Cassie told me she wouldn’t choose between me and Grayson, and to me, that meant she’d already made a choice.

  And once again, it wasn’t me.

  Eating has been impossible. I’ve taken to drinking protein shakes with a shit ton of vegetables just to keep my nutrition up because solid food just isn’t an option. And currently, though it’s gorgeous outside, I’m in my dark bedroom all alone with Thirty Seconds to Mars blasting in my headphones.

  I’m perfectly content to waste my day away. It’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and a half, and every day I go without Cassie showing up at my door, I realize I’d be content to do this for the rest of my life. Who needs a presidency? Who needs a college degree? Who needs sunlight or friends or something to live for?

  I’ve hit some lows in my life, but this might be the lowest.

  Because for the first time, I’ve lost Cassie not because of something stupid, but because of something real that we couldn’t see eye to eye on.

  That we maybe never will.

  And I have to decide if this is what will end it all.

  I roll over to face my wall, but before I can curl into a fetal position, my headphones are ripped from my ears.

  I don’t even yell at the offender — especially when I see Jeremy’s annoyed expression staring back at me in the dim light of my bedroom. I just sigh and face the wall again, resigned.

  “You’re wasting your time,” I mutter.

  “Yeah. And you’re wasting your senior year.” Jeremy reaches over me, ripping the navy-blue curtains on my window open before I can prepare for it. I shrink away from the sunlight, shielding my eyes and shoving him off my bed.

  “Asshole.”

  “Get up.”

  He yanks the covers off me, and I try to rip them back, but he chucks them across the room before I can.

  “Look. It’s been almost two weeks. I’m tired of this shit, and so is everyone else. So, if you need to talk about what happened at the Halloween party, let’s talk.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You don’t?” Jeremy deadpans.

  When I say nothing, he shakes his head and pulls up my desk chair to sit in front of my bed. He straddles it backward, leaning his arms on the back of it with a heavy sigh.

  “Fine. I’ll talk.” But before he says another word, he reaches over and thunks me on the forehead. “Why are you such a fucking idiot when it comes to Cassie McBee?”

  I sit up, a bit stunned and a lot pissed, ready to slug him off his chair, but he easily dodges my fist and shoves me back onto the bed — hard.

  “No, you had your chance to talk and didn’t say shit. So you sit there and listen.”

  I’m panting, gritting my teeth, but I know Jeremy well enough to know he’s not here out of disrespect.

  If anything, he’s here because he cares about me.

  And that’s a helluva lot more than I can say for anyone else.

  “Look. I get it. If I had a girlfriend and she was hanging out with her ex-boyfriend, I’d be fucking livid, too. In fact, I probably would have run over to them the first time I saw them together and laid him out. But here’s the thing — you sat on it for weeks, and grew all this resentment, so much so that by the time you two hashed it out, you were so heated and so far up your own ass that you couldn’t even listen to her.”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to listen to?” I argued. “She told me that no matter what I said or did, she wasn’t going to choose between us.”

  “Because she doesn’t think she should have to! And honestly, Adam — do you?”

  I blew out a breath like a dragon. “I don’t think I even should have had to ask her.”

  Jeremy holds up his hands. “Just think about it for a second. Okay? Do you remember all that fucking shit that went down with her and our stupid asshat for a president?”

  I swallow, because I’ll never forget the night Cassie climbed into my window and into my bed and I held her against my chest while she cried. She told me I was right about Clay, who had been fucking around with her and her high school best friend at the same time. She found out in the crudest way possible at a party after her first semester at PSU, and I’d been there for her.

  I’ll never forget how crushed she was.

  “I remember,” I manage on a croak.

  “Then you know that this is more than just a simple him or you scenario,” Jeremy says. “This isn’t about her wanting to fuck Grayson or ever be with him again. This is about the fact that she’s lost people in her life and it kills her. I mean, you know better than anyone that Cassie is the sweetest fucking girl on the planet. She hates being
hurt. She hates hurting others. So, when this guy she spent so much time with comes back around and apologizes and she has an opportunity to be friends with him? Of course, she wants to. And I hate to say it, brother,” he says, shaking his head. “But it has nothing to do with you.”

  My chest tightens. “It does, though. It’s not fair of her to expect me to be okay with that.”

  “Really? Just like it’s not fair of you to expect her to be okay with you and Skyler still being friends?”

  His words slam into me, hard and fast and unexpected, and I sit up slowly in my bed before leaning my back against my headboard. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” Jeremy says. “Look, man. I know it’s hard. You two have been through some shit, and you don’t want to lose her. She doesn’t want to lose you, either. And I know this is a big thing she’s asking of you, to put aside your pride and your jealousy and trust her.”

  I bite my tongue against the urge to argue that I’m not jealous of that fucking prick, and Jeremy must notice, because he leans down until I look at him again.

  “But whether you see it or not, she already chose you.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Bro, you got her. You got the girl. She’s all yours and has been since she came to this campus — regardless of the past.”

  A deflated breath leaves my chest.

  “Do you trust her?” he asks.

  “More than anyone.”

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  I swallow, because as much as I want to argue that it’s that fucking douchebag musician I don’t trust, I know that negates what I just said. Because no matter what he tries, Cassie would never lean into it — into him — ever again.

  Jeremy’s right — that girl is mine.

  And I can’t fucking lose her again.

  I scrub my hands over my face. “Goddamnit. How the fuck do I make this right?”

  Jeremy claps his hand on my shoulder. “Step one, take a shower. You smell like shit, bro. And then, go talk to her. And listen this time, too.”

  I nod, looking at my best friend who should be so tired of my shit, he never speaks to me again, but instead, is always there for me. “I owe you a beer.”

  Jeremy scoffs, standing. “More like a keg.”

  “Thank you, bro. Seriously.”

  “I got you. Now, get your shit together and then come outside and hang with your brothers.”

  I nod, and when he’s gone, I pull out my phone and immediately dial Cassie’s number. My heart races in my chest as it rings, and after the seventh one, I’m sent to her voicemail.

  “Cassie…” I say after the beep, but then I freeze.

  I’m sorry?

  I love you?

  I take it all back?

  Nothing seems right, and I sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool wall. After a few calming breaths, I decide if there’s any way to make this right, it’s not going to be with a simple phone call or text or trip down Greek Row.

  I need to show her that I’m serious, that I’m sorry, and that I trust her.

  “If you still love me,” I say, my voice low and hoarse. “Then meet me at the marina this Saturday. One hour before sunset.”

  I stay on the line for a moment longer, as if somehow she’ll feel me through the phone. When I finally hang up, I take a deep breath and drag myself into the shower.

  And while I put together my plan, I pray that Cassie will give me the chance to make things right.

  THE INSIDE OF MY thighs are tender and slightly bruised by the time I finish my pole session on Friday.

  Getting back into dancing? Easy enough, just a little cardio training and getting my body to remember how it feels to move that way. Revisiting climbing the pole and head up tricks? Not too shabby, a little painful, but for the most part, I got this.

  But once I got into training my leg hangs and thigh grips again, my body wanted to divorce me.

  I’ve spent all afternoon upside down, working on my Extended Butterfly, my Scorpio, my leg switches and hip holds, and God help me, even my Superman. As much as it hurts to train like this, it also feels good, like I’m making progress and finding my passion again.

  Besides, I need a break from my brain.

  I haven’t stopped turning over what happened between me and Sophie since the Okay, Cool after-party. It seems no matter how much I try to focus on work or school or sorority events or pole, that night keeps creeping up on me, and I find myself trying to dissect every word she said, every move she made, wondering if I made it up, or if she really was hitting on me.

  And if she was… what the hell?

  Was she bisexual? Was she just being a bitch, trying to fuck with my head since it’s clear that I’m onto her and the way she looks at Brandon?

  Did I make it all up, and it’s me who’s the psycho?

  I sigh, peeling my high heels and knee pads off and shoving them into my gym bag with more force than necessary, like it’s Sophie I’m shoving out of my life.

  “Hey now,” Karen says, arching an eyebrow as she lowers down to the floor next to me. “It wasn’t that bad of a training session, was it?”

  I offer her a smile. “I’m sorry. Just have a lot on my mind.”

  “That explains why you asked for two hours of torture instead of just one today.” Karen pauses, watching me. “Ashlei, I know we talked about this a few months ago… but I really think you should consider competing again.”

  I swallow, trying to remain calm when I meet Karen’s eyes. “I… I don’t think…”

  Karen folds her soft fingers over my arm, gentle and calm. “I know what happened with Kitty Heels.”

  I nearly pass out at the mention of the studio I left behind me, that I’ve tried to bury for years. In a flash, I see Leslie, Kya, Hayden, the drugs, the threats, the money, the club I tried to work at to save my ass, Jess coming to my rescue.

  Another soft squeeze from Karen saves me from blacking out. “Leslie has made a name for herself in this industry — and it’s not a good one. Everyone knows the sketchy shit she pulls, and trust me when I say you were the best thing to happen for her and that studio. I know she fucked you over… but don’t let her steal this passion from you.”

  My eyes gloss, and I don’t have a single word to say in response.

  “You don’t have to make a decision now, okay?” Karen says, standing and offering a hand down to help me up, too. “Just think about it. If not competing, maybe you could at least perform. Trust me — if you got on a pole stage?” She shakes her head once I’m standing with her. “You’d captivate the entire audience — me included.”

  I somehow manage a nod and a smile, and I thank her, grabbing my bag and leaving the studio with my mind whirling with even more thoughts than when I walked in. When I see Brandon’s car on the curb, relief sinks into me like sweet honey, and I smile.

  “I like this tradition of you picking me up after class,” I say when I slide inside the passenger seat. I toss my bag in the back. “But I’m starting to think you might have a fetish for sweaty girls or something.”

  “I only have a fetish for one sweaty girl,” he corrects, leaning over the console to give me a deep, passionate kiss. I’m breathless when he pulls back, and his golden eyes settle over me in appreciation. “I was thinking we could do dinner tonight.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “In Chicago.”

  I balk. “Chicago?”

  He nods on a grin. “There was a last-minute cancellation at one of the most famous restaurants in town, and the owner called me and asked if I wanted the table. It’s twenty-four courses of the finest cuisine you’ll ever have.” He shrugs. “And then, I was thinking I could fuck you on the balcony of my favorite suite in the city.”

  I lick my lips, crawling over the console enough to thread my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him into me for a kiss. “Are we flying commercial?”

  “Come on now,” he chastises, nipping my bottom lip. “You know me better than that, Miss Daniels.”


  I smirk. “Then you should know better than to think we’ll wait until after dinner to fuck if you’re taking me on your private jet again.” I pause, letting my hand drop to his belt buckle and drawing a soft line over the seam of his dress pants before whispering. “Mr. Church.”

  A guttural groan rips from his throat, and then he breaks our kiss suddenly and swiftly, throwing the car in drive and speeding us across town to the airport.

  I feel night and day better after an evening with Brandon.

  Just like I suspected, we’d barely made it through takeoff before Brandon had me pinned against one of the leather couches on the private jet, and once we’d landed in Chicago, we’d spent all dinner staring at each other from across our intimately lit table, my heel tracing up and down his leg under the tablecloth, his eyes devouring me more than the meal.

  By the time we get back to the suite downtown, I’m starving for his touch again. It seems I never can get enough.

  I’ve never been to Chicago before, and I decide after just one day in the city that I love it. The architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, buildings stretching up high into the sky and lining the river, the lake, filling the city with lights. But there are also dozens of parks and recreational areas, so while it’s a city, it’s somehow greener and fresher than Manhattan — at least, in my opinion.

  I’m appreciating the view from our balcony and the crisp, cool air when Brandon joins me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I rest my head back on his chest as he lets out a deep, content sigh.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispers in my ear.

  I nod, letting my eyes trace over the city lights glittering like stars, the river reflecting their glare and making for the most picturesque backdrop.

  “You know, it’s been almost a year since the first time you took me on that private jet,” I remark.

  Brandon chuckles, kissing my cheek. “It has, hasn’t it? God, I wanted you so bad. I’m surprised I made it that long before touching you.”

  “You were trying to do the right, moral thing and not fuck your intern.”