I tell her about the first payment, how I lied to my parents, how I let Bo help me and we thought we figured it out together, but then Kya showed up and blew up my entire world. Every word leaves me feeling more broken and somehow fixable at the same time.
I can’t look at her when I tell her I did dance for money—once—just enough for me to realize I couldn’t do it. I still can’t lift my eyes to hers as I tell her about the deals I made with the devil—the payments, the stolen money from our auction, how I asked him to hit me, how I sold drugs on Spring Break. By the time I’m completely caught up, telling her how I lost over a third of the money I owe him and I know any day now he’s going to give up trying to call me and send someone to bring me to him, I can’t place how I feel. Relieved? Terrified? I’m not sure.
I don’t know how long I’ve been talking. My voice is scratchy, my throat sore, my eyes puffy. Jess’ hand is still firmly holding mine.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I whisper, shaking my head as my eyes stay fixed on our hands. “I’ve tried for so long to figure this out on my own. I was afraid of the judgement, afraid of the consequences. I was so ruled by fear that I kept digging deeper and deeper into a hole I fell into accidentally but stayed in by choice.” Realization hits me like a freight train. “This is my fault, Jess. This is all my fault.”
“Hey,” she says as I start to cry again, her free hand finding my chin. She lifts my head, but I keep my eyes shut. “Look at me, Lei.”
Shaking my head, I force a breath and finally crack my eyes open, her blurred face coming into view slowly.
“It’s okay. Do you hear me?” She leans in closer, her chocolate eyes connecting hard with mine. “It is okay.”
It’s like those words are all I’ve been wanting for months now, I just didn’t know I needed them. I didn’t know what to even ask for. Now that she’s said it, my heart finally realizes.
I just want to be okay.
“I wish you would have come to me sooner, Lei. I can’t believe you’ve been going through this on your own.” She hugs me close to her chest again and I wrap my arms around her shoulders.
Sniffling, I stare out into the dark ocean, feeling better but not saved yet. “Jess, what am I going to do? He’s going to come looking for me. He’s killed people before.” I choke on the words, gripping her shirt between my fingers. “He could kill me.”
Everything is heavy—the air, my arms, those words. Jess peels me off of her and frames my arms with her hands, holding me tight, forcing my eyes to hers. Though the mascara stains under her eyes and her body shakes with mine, she no longer looks remorseful or sad. She looks determined—fierce—the Jess I know slowly rising to the surface again. Her eyes narrow, her lips pursed, and slowly, she nods.
“I have a plan.”
HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER.
That’s what’s coming from my mouth right now as Jarrett stares at me from his side of the bed, brows furrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line. He’s not amused, and nothing he said was funny, but I can’t stop laughing.
It’s a nervous habit I’ve always had. I’m not good with handling serious situations. Anytime I’m uncomfortable or freaked out, I crack a joke or laugh uncontrollably. In both situations, I piss someone off.
And Jarrett is the last person I want to make mad.
Throwing the covers off, he shakes his head and leaves the bed. I instantly miss him, especially as his tight ass stalks toward his closet. Reaching out, I try to fight the giggles. “Wait, Jarrett.” Still giggling. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t fucking funny, Jess. Not anymore,” he snaps, hastily stepping into a pair of boxer briefs and yanking them up to his hips. My eyes are glued to the deep V of his lower abdomen still left exposed, the one I was dragging my tongue across just moments ago. Before Jarrett asked me—in all seriousness, my hands grasped in his as he kissed my knuckles—to be his girlfriend.
His legit girlfriend—not a fuck buddy, not a friend with benefits, not something we don’t title. He wants it all.
And I don’t think I can give it to him.
“I know,” I say, clearing my throat. The early morning light is trying to break through the navy blue curtains of his bedroom, bathing us in the cool glow of dawn. Another fit of laughter threatens to break loose but I twist my face to fight it down. “It’s a nervous habit. I can’t really control it.”
He sighs, pulling a pair of jeans off a hanger and throwing them on just as quickly as his boxer briefs, the metal hanger still flailing against the others. “I don’t understand why you even hesitated when I asked. Are you not essentially my girlfriend already?”
“You know it’s not the same.”
“Oh? It’s not?” He fastens his belt and then slowly crosses the room to me, sitting on the edge of his bed and framing me with his fists pressed into the comforter. “Do you want anyone else? Do you want me to be with anyone else? Do you think about me every minute you’re not with me? Do you see me in your future? Do you want me here with you in your present?” His dark eyes drink me in, begging for me to argue with him. I can’t. “Can you honestly answer ‘no’ to any of those questions? Even one?”
I’m not laughing anymore.
My breath leaves my chest in a slow exhale along with one word. “No.”
“Then fucking be with me,” he pleads earnestly, the veins in his arms protruding. “I’m tired of this game. You’re mine. I’m yours. I want every fucking person in our lives to know that. And I don’t want to have to watch you leave my house every morning wondering if you’ll come back again.”
My breathing accelerates and I pin my bottom lip between my teeth. He makes it sound so easy. Just be with me. But it’s never that easy. What if the whole reason he loves being with me is because he doesn’t have me—not really, not all the way? Or what if, just like how I gained my nickname, I tell him yes, then tell him I love him, and eventually he’s gone—just like all the others. Jarrett is possessive over me now, I can’t imagine how that would transfer into him being my actual boyfriend. Would he let me go to fraternity parties without him? Would he want to meet my parents?
“You’ll lose your job,” I try, knowing it’s the bottom line from my list of excuses.
Jarrett scoffs. “The semester is all but over, Jess. I’ll have a new job within the next few weeks.”
“Still, this could damage your reputation.”
“It won’t. We started dating after I was your teacher, not during that semester. And I wasn’t even technically your teacher. I’m a student. A grad student.”
“But I’m still here. I have years to go. Don’t you want to find a successful woman with her shit together?” Even suggesting he be with someone else makes my stomach lurch.
Jarrett pushes back from where he was angled over me and runs his hands over his bald head, his eyes on the bathroom door. I watch as the tattoos on his arms flex with the movement. They seem angry at me, too.
“Fucking Christ, Jess. How many times do I have to tell you?” He drops his hands to the bed, exhausted. His chest is heaving as he connects his eyes with mine. Suddenly, I’m too aware of my messy, freshly-fucked hair and what I’m sure is smeared makeup. I tuck my knees up to my chest. “I want you. I haven’t looked at a single other fucking woman since the moment you strolled into the bar looking for me. You didn’t know it that night, you didn’t know it was me you wanted, but I did. I knew it when I saw the look in your eyes and the determination in your walk. I wanted you then, I want you now, and if you just fucking let me in—” His voice cuts off, his fists tightening.
An unfamiliar sting hits my nose and eyes but I sniff it away. Am I about to cry? Oh hell no. I’m Jess Vonnegut and I do not do emotions—not like this. I have too much shit going on with Ashlei right now as it is. I should be focusing on how I’m going to help her out of the disaster she’s found herself in, not on this. Why do we have to figure all of this out right now?
“I thought we were fine the way we
were. The way we are. Why isn’t this enough for you?”
He pauses, a long, slow breath expelling from his lips as he stands. “I don’t know. I thought I could do this, not put a title on it, just be whatever we are. But I can’t anymore.” He crosses back to his closet and tugs a long-sleeved button-up down, shrugging it over his shoulders. On the third button, he stops, peering up at me with a pained expression. “I love you, Jess.”
I swallow.
“I do,” he continues, his fingers working the buttons again. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I need this from you. I need you to be mine—completely.” He’s still getting dressed, as if the words slipping from his lips in the process aren’t life-changing. He snaps on his watch and grabs his nice shoes, the ones he often wears to class. It’s Friday, so he’s a little more casual than usual, but just barely.
“And if I can’t?” I sit up on my knees, pulling the sheets over my still-naked chest. “Would you rather not have me at all if you can’t have me as your girlfriend? Does the title really make that much of a difference to you?”
He halts at his bedroom door, his back to me, shoulders taught.
“It’s not just a title. If it were, you wouldn’t be fighting it as much as you are.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Somewhere, deep inside my gut, I feel my own soul screaming at me to tell him yes. But I can’t.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He sighs, snatching his keys off the small table just outside his bedroom door. “I don’t have to, you already know the answer.” With that, he crosses the apartment and swings open the front door. His hand gripping the knob, he lifts his eyes to mine again, the space between us deafening. “So?”
My heart races so fast I have to balance my palms on the bed to keep myself upright. I’m not ready to be his girlfriend. I can’t be his girlfriend. It’s too much, it’s too fast, it’s too uncertain. I want what we have now, but he’s saying that’s not an option any longer. Why? What changed? My head is spinning, the room following suit. When my wild eyes find his again, I know I don’t have to answer his question, either.
He bites his bottom lip, eyes falling to the floor as one, short laugh echoes through the apartment. Jarrett shakes his head swiftly and turns, calling out behind him. “Lock up before you leave.”
He doesn’t slam the door. He doesn’t need to. It’s there, sitting naked in the sheets still warm from sex, that I realize I’ve been fooling myself all along. Jarrett and I have always wanted different things. How stupid could I have been to think we could just avoid our questions simply because we already knew the answers?
I almost call out for him but stop myself, thinking better of it. Instead, I whisper to myself.
“He loves me?”
A smile touches my lips before reality chases it away. Jarrett loves me, but he’s asking me to love him back. He’s asking me to give more than we agreed on. We made a deal last semester, and that was working for me. I thought it was working for him. And now, because I won’t be his girlfriend, I can’t have him at all.
My stomach lurches and I sit up, planting my bare feet on the floor, letting the sheet fall to the side. I need a clear mind today and I know I’m not going to get it. I’m meeting with Ashlei in an hour to finalize our plan for Xavier, and yet now, there’s only one thought in my head.
Can I really let Jarrett Locke walk out of my life?
“AND THAT’S WHY I’M PROUD to announce that the newest president of Alpha Sigma by an overwhelming vote is Adam Brooks.”
The chapter room erupts in cheers, Jeremy going especially wild and hooting loudly over everyone as I stand and make my way to the front of the room. It feels like I’m walking in slow motion, trying to take it all in and feeling like it’s impossible to do.
Ever since I rushed Alpha Sigma, I’ve been busting my ass to make us a top fraternity on campus again. We once were, especially in the 90s, but we fell off along the way. It hasn’t been easy and the job is far from done, but now, I’ll have more resources to make the difference I want to make. I finally let myself smile, wishing my grandfather could be here to see me. I’m doing it. I’m making something of my organization, of myself.
Clay forces a smile as he shakes my hand. I know he hates this, passing the crown to me, but in a way I think he saw it coming. He had to. He’s graduating in just a few short weeks, so it really shouldn’t bother him, but it does. I grin smugly, pulling him in to clap him on the back as the cheers continue. I hold him there a moment, squeezing his hand tighter than necessary.
“If you ever so much as fucking look at Cassie McBee again, you’ll need reconstructive surgery to get back that fake ass smile of yours. Understand?”
Clay is normally cocky, but I catch the swallow he forces down as he pulls away. He doesn’t meet my eyes, just motions toward me with both hands and a smile facing our brothers, making the room go crazy once more. Something tells me I won’t have to warn him twice.
After a short speech and photo of me along with the new executive board, my brothers disperse, slipping back into finals mode as we all prepare for the end of the semester. I should feel elated, I should want to go get celebratory drinks, I should be making calls—but there’s only one person I want to talk to right now. One person I need to talk to.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I type out a quick text to Cassie, praying she’ll actually respond. We’ve barely talked since Spring Break. I came back on such a high, which makes no sense because all I had done was complicate whatever relationship we have further. We kissed, it was amazing, but what does that really mean? Apparently, to her—nothing. She was back in Grayson’s arms as soon as we returned. I wondered why she wasn’t returning my calls, but Family Weekend answered that question for me. I may not deserve to know what that night meant to her, but I have to ask anyway.
My phone pings with a text from her saying she’s at the KKB house and to come to the back kitchen door. Steeling myself, I tuck my phone back in my pocket and start the walk down Greek Row, words I want to say scrolling through my mind like movie credits the entire time. But when I knock softly on the back door and she lets me in, her soft red curls pulled in a low ponytail over her shoulder and her legs exposed in a tiny pair of plaid sleep shorts, everything I planned to say leaves me instantly—like a candle flame snuffed out by a lid.
“Congrats,” she says first with a genuine grin before pulling me in for a hug, like she hasn’t been ignoring me for weeks. I’m almost too shocked to hug her back, but slowly, my arms wrap around her and I hold her tight against me, inhaling the tropical scent from her hair. She always smells like paradise.
“News travels fast.”
She giggles, pulling back and crossing her arms over her chest, framing the small bit of cleavage exposed by her tank top. “Come on, how long have you been at PSU? You know better than I do.”
“True story.”
“Well, I wish we could have a shot to celebrate, but, you know, house rules and all.” She points a thumb over her shoulder. “Want a root beer?”
I laugh. “Do you have a root beer?”
Cassie rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious. “Of course. It’s my favorite drink.”
“Interesting. Well in that case, make it a double.” I like that it’s easy between us right now, especially after the tension during Family Weekend. Still, I’m not just going to slip back into the friend zone. I have to talk to her about what happened.
She chuckles, arms still crossed until she reaches the refrigerator. Pulling out two tall glasses and filling them to the top with the foamy dark liquid, she slides one down the counter to me as she lifts the other to her own lips. The bubbles stick at the corners of her mouth for just a moment before she licks them away.
“I forgot how much I love root beer,” I say, taking a sip myself.
Her eyebrows shoot up and she points at me over her glass. “See? You’re welcome.”
As our smiles settle, I gri
p the glass a little tighter. “I didn’t come here to celebrate.”
“I figured,” she responds, eyes on her own hands. “Listen, I get it. It was Spring Break, we were both drinking. It’s all good.”
I cock a brow, setting my glass down on the kitchen island. It’s Sunday night and the house is mostly quiet, save for the faint sound of giggling coming from the rooms upstairs.
“It wasn’t a mistake, Cassie. It wasn’t an accident or a drunken decision. Ever since I kissed you at the concert last semester, I’ve wanted to do it again.”
She wants me to apologize for the kiss. She thinks I regret it. I don’t.
“How can you say that?” she asks, green eyes wide. “You were with Skyler.”
“I know, I know.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, not really knowing how to explain what I need to. “It’s not that I didn’t care for her—that I don’t still care for her. But I also care about you. And that night on the beach, it was like the biggest moment of clarity for me.”
Cassie drops her glass to the counter and brings her fingernails to her teeth, nibbling, eyes on the tile floor.
“You can’t do this, Adam. I mean, what are you even asking me?” Her voice is shaky when she finally speaks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh, knowing none of this is coming out right. But what do I really expect? I was dating her Big Sister just a few short weeks ago and now, what? I’m going to ask her to be with me? “I guess I’m just saying that I get what you said at the Fratalina Wine Mixer now.” I shrug, lifting my eyes to hers. “You confuse me, too.”
“I’m with Grayson.”
She says those three words like they won’t puncture my lungs, stealing my breath. “Let me take you to formal. Please. Give me . . . I don’t know, give me one night.”
“One night for what?” She stands straighter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m with Grayson. He’s taking me to formal.”
Palm South University: Season 2 Box Set Page 23