She lets out a long, exasperated sigh, nodding. “I do, too.”
“Hey,” I say, rubbing my hands on her sweater-covered arms. “Why don’t you come to the dance tomorrow night? Take my extra ticket. We don’t have to tell anyone that you’re my date. You can just come and hang out with your sisters, and maybe save me a few dances.”
Cassie smiles. “Really? I was hoping I could go, but wasn’t sure if you’d ask.”
“Really. And you know what else?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m going to book you a spa day for this weekend. Go get your shoulders rubbed, a little face mask action.” She shakes her head, eyes wide like I can’t possibly spend my money on her. “Don’t even try to argue, I’m doing it. And you’re going.”
She laughs, still sniffling. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. But, it’s Valentine’s Day. As much as I want to take you out on a date and then take you back and do very not-safe-for-work things to you, I think this year it should be a little different. This year, maybe you spend the holiday of love loving yourself a little.”
Cassie shakes her head, a bright smile breaking through as she slips her hand into mine. “I like that idea.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Good. It’s settled then. We have a big limo picking up some other sisters from your house tomorrow. I’ll save you a seat.”
“Okay,” she says, smiling. And then, she just watches me, her big green eyes nearly doubling in size as she searches me. It’s like she’s checking to see if I’m real, or memorizing the moment to hold onto forever.
Maybe both.
And it’s the first time I feel like maybe my plan is working. Maybe I really can show her with my actions what she means to me, instead of just telling her. Maybe I really can treat her like the woman she’s always deserved to be treated like.
Cassie McBee has never been loved the right way, and I vow to be the one to break that streak.
I vow to be the first one to really love her, to really be loved by her.
And, hopefully, the last one, too.
THE SUN HASN’T COMPLETELY shed its light over the university, hasn’t spilled in through our large kitchen window, but yet still I stand at the counter, eyes on my phone, two names fighting for attention.
I didn’t try to sleep last night — not after seeing Skyler pull Kip in for a kiss, or hearing him talk about how he isn’t sorry for what they did. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it again, and as much as I know it’s all part of the plan I set up, I couldn’t stomach it.
So, I did what I do best. I fled.
Drinking hadn’t helped last time I’d felt that ickiness settling in my stomach after their date at the pier, so I tried running, instead. Stopping by the sorority house long enough to change into long pants and a light long-sleeve shirt, I set out across campus, running along the dimly lit paths until my muscles were screaming at me to stop. Every step took a tiny bit of the pain, every sharp breath through my lungs gave a little bit of strength. When I hit the reflection pond on campus, I stopped, collapsing in a heap on the grassy hill that overlooked it.
I close my eyes, one hand wrapped around my steaming mug of hot chocolate as I go back to that moment, to the stars spread above me, the cool, wet grass on my neck, my breaths shallow but sure.
It was then that I realized it wasn’t the kiss that hurt me the most. It was the way they kissed — the way Skyler tried to fake it, but gave into Kip with every second that passed, melting into his arms. It’s the way Kip spilled his heart out to her before she shut him up with her mouth on his, and the relief that spilled off of him when she was pressed against him.
Sobs racked through me on that hill, every fear and damning emotion surging over me like a tidal wave. I had no choice but to succumb to it, to let it roll me under its powerful waves before it spit me out. And when it did, I sniffed, wiping my eyes dry and staring up at the unblinking stars in the sky as I realized the truth.
I was stupid to think this was ever a game.
He likes her. And she likes him.
And now, I have to figure out what to do about it.
My eyes flutter open again, the first bit of sunlight slipping inside our small sorority kitchen. I stare at my phone again, debating my options.
The first person I want to call is Clinton.
We haven’t talked since the semester started, but he always said he’d be there for me if I needed him. And I need him. Bad. He’d know what to say, how to help me see sanity, to make the right decision.
But that’s the problem.
As much as I need him, as much as I should pick up the phone and call him or storm down Greek Row and right into his bedroom, I don’t want to. Because he would tell me the right thing to do.
And right now, I don’t want to be right.
Right now, I want Kip Jackson to be mine again. I want to find happiness with him, the kind of naïve, untouched happiness we had before. I want to remember what it feels like to be held by a man and not flinch away from his touch, to be kissed because I asked for it, not have my lips taken greedily and without mercy.
I want to be taken to bed, softly and gently, and cherished. I want to feel Kip’s hands on me, his lips, his eyes…
Clinton would talk me out of the whole thing, and although that might be what I should do, I don’t.
Instead, I pick up my phone and dial person number two.
Mom.
“It’s early, Erin,” she answers gruffly.
“I need you.”
There’s shuffling on the other end, and I hear my father’s voice murmur something before my mom covers the phone to answer. A door clicks, and I imagine her retreating into her master bathroom, perching on the edge of her deep bath tub.
“Okay, I’m here. What happened?”
She still sounds slightly annoyed by me waking her, but the fact that she’s still on the line brings me comfort. I sigh, feeling stronger already just by hearing her voice. She was the only one I could lean on after what happened, the only one who knew how to take what I felt and turn it into something I could control, something I could manage.
As sick as it sounds, that horrifying day brought me closer to my mom, and for that, I’m thankful.
“It’s nothing big,” I say quickly, to ease her mind. “There’s something I want, something I feel like might really help me find some happiness again.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “Well, you know you can do anything you put your mind to. If there’s something you want, take it. Make it yours. Make it happen.”
“I know, I know, and I have been trying. I have a plan in place, a way to get what I want, but…” My voice fades, my eyes losing focus on the marshmallows floating in my hot chocolate. “I’m hurting someone I care about in the process. And I’m afraid that the more I use her, the more she’ll hate me in the end.”
“A sister?”
I sigh. “Yes. A very close sister.”
“Oh, Erin,” Mom says, the annoyance back in her voice. “Listen to me. College is such a small, temporary part of your life. I know these girls feel like they’re everything to you right now, but one day, you won’t even talk to ninety percent of them. Don’t let your emotions and feelings stand in the way of your goals. What does that get you? Where has it ever landed you before?”
Every word she says is like a little prick of a needle, like motherly acupuncture, a mixture of discomfort, pain, and relief.
Maybe I want to hear someone tell me what I’m doing is okay.
Maybe I knew she’d be the one to say it.
“I think it’s really hard on her,” I say, not sure if I want my mom to hear it or myself. “But we’re so close, and what I want is within reach. I’m just not sure if, ethically, the way I’ve gone about it is okay.”
“Well, ethics aren’t everything,” Mom answers matter-of-factly. “Listen to me. You’ve had things taken from you, Erin. You’ve gi
ven when you didn’t want to. This is karma, the balance of the universe. Now, it’s your turn to take a little, to get back what you desire to make yourself happy again. And that doesn’t always happen without a few fires along the way — fires that burn people you care about.”
“That doesn’t sound right to me.”
“It’s not always about being right. Sometimes, it’s about the end game. Let me ask you this. When you close your eyes and think about reaching that goal, about getting what you want, how do you feel?”
I do as she says, an overwhelming wave of warmth and joy washing over me when I picture myself back in Kip’s arms, his blue eyes looking into mine, his lips kissing the soft skin of my neck.
“I feel…” I shake my head, eyes opening with a new resolve. “I feel perfect. I feel whole again.”
“Then you have your answer.”
I swallow. “I think she wants out of the plan. I’m not sure how to get her to see it through.”
“Well, you got her to agree somehow, didn’t you? Think about what motivates her, what her weaknesses are, and play into them. Remind her why she agreed, why this is important not just for you, but for her, too.” Mom pauses. “You’re smarter than you think you are, Erin. You’re just a little soft. Don’t let what happened to you play into that softness. Let it harden you — your heart, your resolve — and take what you want from this world.”
In the back of my mind, I realize the twisted, questionable morals that my mother’s advice is laced with, but in this moment, I can’t find it in me to dissect it. She said exactly what I needed to hear — what I wanted to hear.
She gave me permission, encouragement, and any thought of backing out is long gone.
When I end the call with Mom, I make another mug of hot chocolate, leaning one hip against the counter and watching the sun rise through the kitchen window as I formulate a new plan. I know Skyler’s weaknesses — her desire to fit in, her need to fulfill our Greek line’s legacy of being the next president. Before she came to Palm South University, she was a no one. Here, she’s everything.
But a reputation is a futile thing.
And a delicate, self-conscience girl is easy to prey on.
I almost shutter at that thought as it rolls through me, at how easily I think it, but I don’t have time to digest it before the universe hands me my first test.
Skyler shuffles into the kitchen, hair a rats nest on top of her head as her eyes widen when they land on me. It’s early, the rest of the house sleeping, and she likely imagined she’d find the kitchen empty.
It’s now or never.
“Hot chocolate?” I ask her, lifting my mug a little.
Skyler smiles, but it falls quickly as she props herself on the counter beside me. “I think I need something stronger.”
It should scare me, how quickly I shove my emotions down into a box, slamming the lid shut and taping the edges for good measure. I can see it all over Skyler’s face, her desire to talk to me, to tell me she wants out. It’s in the knit of her brows, in the way she chews on her bottom lip. This is it — my last chance to get her to seal the deal.
So, I set a plan into place, not questioning a single step in it as it forms.
First, I have to break her down, tap into her emotions. Skyler is perhaps the most caring human being I know, soft at the heart no matter how she tries to hide it. And, unlike me, she doesn’t possess the will to box her emotions away. Sure, she may be able to disguise them with a poker face now and then, but in the end? They always overwhelm her.
“It’s funny, you know,” I say, grabbing another mug from the cupboard and starting a cup of coffee for her on our Keurig. “Parents. Kids. The whole relationship that exists there.”
“I’m not sure I’m following, Big.”
I sigh, debating my next words before I say them as I detangle my hair with a wave of my hand through it. It’s a delicate balance, what I’m about to do. I need to tap into her sympathy for me while also relaying my warning, my threat — or rather, my promise.
She’s not getting out of this.
“I mean, we grow up looking up to our parents. We envy them, build our dreams and our goals around who they are and who they aren’t. But do we ever really make them happy? Or proud? They say we do, but would they really tell us if we failed them?”
I turn again, pulling the fresh cup of coffee from the Keurig and handing it to Skyler. She holds it in her hands, the steam wafting up as she thinks.
“I don’t think we can fail them,” she finally says. “I think just by existing, we make them proud. They see themselves in us.”
I see my in, my way to tap into her sympathy for me, to get her putting me above her own wants and needs.
And as selfish as it is, as fucked up as I’ve become, I take it.
Scoffing, I take another sip of my hot chocolate. “All my parents see when they look at me is a blurred, imperfect reflection of what they wish I was. I feel it. They don’t say it, but their eyes do. They’re ashamed of me.”
And that was true, this time last year. My parents were only concerned with me finding a husband in college, nothing more. But after what happened to me, my mom finally understood, finally got behind me and supported me getting a degree I loved and forging my own path.
Still, Skyler is close with her parents. She’s helped them in times of need, and she understands family obligation and pride. So, I continue.
“I know, right? It doesn’t make sense, does it? Most parents would be proud of me, I guess. But then again, most parents didn’t dream of their baby girl growing up and getting a MRS degree and banging a rich lawyer or doctor or whatever. You would think I shot a puppy by telling them I’d rather be a lawyer than marry one.”
It’s silent a moment, and I hear Skyler’s wheels turning. Her initial worry that was laden on her features when she walked into the kitchen is gone, and I’ve successfully pushed those thoughts aside long enough to get her to think of how to help me. She wants to make me feel better.
Time to reel her in.
“Ex, you have nothing to be ashamed of and your parents are crazy if they don’t see the amazing things you’re doing for this campus, this sorority, and for yourself. They come from old money, they’re not used to a world where a woman wants to be educated simply because she can be. You’re too smart and too damn talented to get married and sit at home. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s not your style. Could you imagine that? You would go bat shit crazy. You can’t even sit in your pajamas for a full day!
I giggle at that, heart warming a little at her words. Because as much as I may be putting on a show for her, Skyler is being nothing but real with me. She really thinks those things, and that stubborn voice inside me tries to pipe up again, the box rattling, everything threatening to break loose and remind me why I should let Skyler call everything off.
I shove it all back down.
“You have to say that,” I say to Skyler, sniffling a little like I might cry at any moment. “You’re my little nugget of sunshine.”
Skyler watches me a moment, a strange smile on her face. And in that moment, we’re just Big and Little, two sisters brought together by circumstance, staying together by choice.
But would she choose to keep that relationship in the end, after this… after Kip?
I could never be sure. And though I should have, I couldn’t find it in me to care.
“I don’t have to say anything,” Skyler argues. “Except the truth. And I mean it when I say you are the bomb dot com and your parents are insane if they don’t see that. They’ll come around and realize that your dreams are just a little different than what they had in mind but that it actually makes you even better than they could have ever imagined. Just wait until family weekend. When they come up here and see everything you’ve done for Kappa Kappa Beta and for Palm South as a whole, they’re going to lose their shit. And your grades are off the charts. You’re going to get first pick of law schools and the
y’re going to brag to all their friends at the country club about their amazing daughter who’s not only drop dead gorgeous, but a lawyer, to boot.”
And with that, I’ve got her right where I want her.
Step one: complete.
I smile, eyes watering a little as I cross the kitchen and wrap Skyler in a hug. “I love you, Little. Thank you.”
“I’ll always be honest with you,” she says, pulling back and taking a deep breath. “And I’m sorry about last night.”
My façade falters, a coldness sweeping over me at the mention of the bonfire.
“It’s okay. I know it’s part of it, it’s part of the game. It’s hard to watch, but I get it. You did good last night.”
Positive reinforcement. Make her feel like what she’s doing is good, that it will lead to something she wants.
“Thanks,” Skyler mumbles. “But, I wanted to talk to you about it.”
I swallow, alarms ringing in my head as I grasp for how to steer the conversation away from what I know she wants to say. Even after sucking her in with the sympathy card, she still wants to call it off.
Time for the threat.
“I—”
“You know,” I say quickly, cutting her off. “I knew this was a crazy plan when it first slipped out of my mouth that night in my room. In fact, that night I stayed up all night thinking about how crazy I was being,” I say, and that part is the truth. “But then I realized that I couldn’t have had any better luck. I mean, how ironic that my Little just so happened to meet my first love and develop a connection with him?” I ask, reminding her who had him first, who he is to me. “It was almost too perfect.”
Skyler watches me carefully, her face neutral.
“And being that you’re the best damn poker player around,” I say, feeding into her ego, tapping on that most important part of her life. “There literally is no better person for the job.”
She swallows. “Ex, that’s just the thing. I’m not sure—”
“And you know what else?” I say, not letting her finish. I drop my mug into the sink, turning to lean against the counter again with my eyes hard on Skyler. “I know it’s not just about the presidency for you. I know it’s because you care about me, because you know what I’m going through right now and you genuinely want to see me happy.”
Legacy: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 4) Page 16