Palm South University: Season 3 Box Set

by Kandi Steiner

  I HATE HIM.

  I fucking hate him.

  The literal last person I want to see, ever, is standing behind the podium at our first Omega Chi Beta chapter of the semester. Alec Carriker is a highly respected alumni of O Chi, but he’s still a Class A douchebucket. He only shows up when there’s a threat to be made or a wrist-slap to be given.

  Unfortunately for us, I think it’s past that this time.

  “I want you all to know that I don’t want to be here tonight,” he starts once the room is quiet, his brows bent low as he surveys my brothers. “Least of all to deliver the news I have. But I have tried for a year now to warn you about what would happen if you didn’t get your shit together, and not a single one of you listened to me.”

  Someone makes a snarky comment in the back of the room which garners a few stifled laughs, and Alec fumes, shaking his head before raising his voice.

  “The Palm South University chapter of Omega Chi Beta has been suspended.”

  That shuts up the brothers in the back.

  That shuts up everyone.

  Even me.

  Because though I was pissed the last time Alec told us we were on a probation period, I can’t even be mad this time. We fucked up. Bad. And I knew this was coming before I even saw Alec stroll in.

  “Riley Butler just turned eighteen a month ago. He has been away from home for all of one-hundred hours. And now? Now he’s in the hospital with two broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a severe concussion.”

  The heaviness of the reality settles over the room like a thick fog, weighing us down into our seats.

  “And you can try to say it’s not your fault, that you just threw a party, that you’re not responsible for what a dumb freshman does after drinking his first beer, but the truth is, you are. You are responsible — for anything that happens at that house or to any of your brothers or anyone trying to become a brother.”

  At that, a few of us look around with questioning eyes.

  “That’s right. Riley was going to pledge in the spring, and a few of you knew that, because he told the police officers at the hospital that two guys told him this was a pre-pledge test.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I mumble, sinking down into my chair as I shake my head in disbelief.

  I don’t even register the rest of Alec’s news. Everything is muted by the fact that the fraternity I love is on suspension. I hear Alec say that it will be a year minimum, and that’s all it takes for me to tune out every other sentence that comes after. Because none of it matters, not anymore.

  Chapter is called early, without a single ounce of good news, and I’m the first to bolt out of the room and down the hall to my bedroom. I throw on a pair of gym shorts and a PSU t-shirt quickly before tugging on my sneakers and blowing back out the front door.

  I need a release. I need to zone out. I need to make every inch of my fucking body burn.

  But when I round the Student Union and veer off toward the gym, I get that burn in the worst way possible.

  Because Shawna is walking toward me.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Shawna managed to crack through my exterior last semester, and I fell for her. Hard. But when her parents came for family weekend, she showed me her true colors — and they were the ugliest shades.

  I see her before she sees me, which gives me just enough time to trace the edges of her new, shorter purple hair before I zero in on her glasses. The glasses that always drove me crazy in the best way. The glasses framing her big brown eyes as they stare back at me.

  I stop, and she does, too — watching me as she waits for me to make the first move.

  But I can’t deal with her, not right now. Maybe not ever. So, I turn the volume on my iPod up higher and jog to the right, taking the longer way to the gym, not even giving her a second look before the decision was made.

  I feel marginally better after a two-hour session at the gym, and my body is on fire just like I wanted. The last few steps into the O Chi house are brutal, and all I want is a shower and my bed.

  When I walk inside and find a dozen brothers lugging in a keg, the fire coursing through my muscles boils my blood, instead.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask, pointing to the metal as two sophomores carry it past me and toward the back door. I shove one of them until he loses his balance and drops his half, forcing the other to do the same.

  “Calm down, Bear,” Patrick says from behind me. He’s in my pledge class and we’re both given credit for the best of the O Chi parties, but right now I just want to murder him. “It’s just one keg and we told a few sorority chicks to come over tonight. Nothing big.”

  “Are you guys really that stupid? Are my brothers really this fucking dumb?!”

  “Bear, it’s fine. It’s—”

  “IT’S NOT FINE!” I snap, ripping my earphones out of my ears and heaving my iPod across the room. It hits the wall and shatters, making my brothers jump as I try but fail to calm down. “Don’t you get it? We’re suspended. There is only one punishment past this and it’s losing our letters forever. Losing. Our. Letters, you fucking dickwads.”

  More of my brothers have filtered in from the back hallways and chapter room, and since I have their attention, I decide to say everything I need to.

  “You can be mad at Alec and the other alums and nationals all you want, but the truth is we did this to ourselves. And now we need to suck it up and deal with the consequences for a year so we can get this chapter back to being the greatest one on campus like it once was.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I hear from the back. When a few brothers step aside, our new president, Richard, steps forward. “Some of us are seniors. Some of us don’t get another year.”

  His words sober me. I was supposed to be a senior this year, too, but due to fucking up in classes when I was too busy partying, I’ll be a fifth year senior. Still, I stand even straighter before firing back.

  “Then I suggest you step up as the fucking president, Dick, and figure out a way to make the most of this fraternity and what time you have left here before you’re gone. But don’t drag an entire chapter with more than a hundred years of history down just because you can’t snuff your ego and go party somewhere else. This isn’t about you, or about me,” I say, sweeping a hand over the entire room. “Or about any of us. It’s about those letters.” I point to the ΩΧΒ letters that hang on our door. “And this chapter. And this university. It’s about all the brothers who came before us, the ones who stand with us, and the ones who will only come after us if we can turn this sinking ship around and put life back into its sails.

  “Now to some of you, none of that may mean a single damn thing. But to me?” I shake my head, letting my hands fall at my side. “It means everything. So, as long as I’m in this house, as long as I have anything to say about it, I’m not going to let any of you throw a brotherhood away out of pure stupidity.”

  The room is silent, most of my brothers staring at the laces on their shoes as I push past them toward my room.

  “Get that fucking keg out of this house or I’ll knock all of you out with it.”

  Flying down the hall, I slam my bedroom door closed behind me and rip my shirt up and over my head, kicking my shorts off next and taking the hottest, fastest shower I can manage. When I’m dressed again, I collapse into bed, staring up at the dark ceiling with a million thoughts racing through my head.

  I don’t try to digest any of them — not the ones of Erin, or Shawna, or Omega Chi or Riley, the kid I never got to meet who probably hates our fraternity now. I just let them all fly at me, taking turns for my attention, none of them getting it for long before another shoves it out of the way.

  I’m not sure how long I lie there before there’s a hard knock at my door and it creaks open, a stream of light leaking in.

  “What.”

  “Hey, it’s Richard.”

  I sigh, letting my head drop to the right so I can see him as I
repeat myself. “What.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “We all are. You’re right. We were being stupid, and we care about these letters just as much as you do. The keg is gone, and we’re going to come up with some kick-ass philanthropy ideas for this semester and next to make the most of our situation. And we’ll party at the other houses or at Ralph’s or off campus, and even then, we’ll behave.” He pauses. “Thanks for helping us see straight.”

  I nod, looking back up at the ceiling. “Let me know how I can help with the philanthropy.”

  “We will. Oh, and,” he says with a chuckle. “Lacy is here. Should I send her back?”

  “Not tonight.”

  He chuckles again. “Alright. Night, Bear.” And then the small stream of light is gone.

  I roll over toward the wall, shifting until I’m under the sheets. I’m just about to doze off when my door opens again and a shadow slips through, closing it behind them.

  “Lacy, I’m really not in the mood. Not even for a blow job as good as yours.”

  “How about a best friend cuddle buddy, instead?”

  Skyler hops over me, sliding between me and the wall and wiggles her way under the covers. She watches me for a moment, only the light from the streetlights outside my window helping me see her face at all. After a moment I sigh, holding my arms out for her to come closer.

  She nuzzles into my side and I wrap her in my famous Bear Hug, setting my chin on the top of her head as she hugs me back.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  She hugs me tighter. “You will be.”

  I sigh, feeling the smallest bit of relief wash over me. Because Skyler Thorne is the only one I actually believe when she says that.

  It’s not going to be easy, and I have no idea where to even start, but I’m going to help my brothers turn this chapter around. Palm South University only knows us as the party boys, but they’re about to see us in a brand new light.

  And with that final thought, I tug Skyler closer, and finally fall asleep.

  THIS SEMESTER IS GOING to be different.

  That’s all I can repeat in my head as I heave the large glass door open to enter one of the tallest buildings downtown, the building where my new internship is, the building where my new life begins.

  My dainty, nude heels clack against the marble floor as I pass by the reception desk, smiling at the young man sitting behind it. His name is Christopher and he was the one who gave me my parking garage pass when I’d accepted the internship. He eyes my first-day outfit, throwing me a subtle thumbs-up with a wink as I strut past him with a wide smile toward the elevators.

  On the outside, I look completely put together — pairing my favorite strappy Steve Maddens with the brand-new, navy blue Imporio Armani trench coat dress I begged Mom and Dad to buy me for this internship specifically. The sleeves of it are cuffed up to right under my elbow, and I love the way I feel with one hand in the pocket of it as my heels click across the floor.

  I cinched the waist of it this morning with a thick, gold-plated belt, the deep V neckline of the dress dipping down to end only a few inches above it. My jewelry is simple, long blonde hair softly curled, and makeup natural. I don’t look nervous, not even a little bit. I look like I belong here, striding right beside the other young professionals, coffee in hand, ready to take on the world.

  But inside, I’m completely freaking out.

  I toss my half-empty iced coffee into a trashcan on my way to the elevators, casually hooking my damp palm around the base of my small purse as I unclasp it and dig for a mint. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. I never got nervous when I pole danced, not even at regionals, so why does the first day of an internship have my knees unsteady?

  Maybe it’s because I feel like I have something to prove this semester. There is no Hayden, no drugs, no Xavier, and — though this one actually hurts more than I admit — no Bo. It’d taken me most of the summer to realize that Bo leaving PSU wasn’t the end of the world, though it felt like it. In fact, in a way, I’m kind of grateful. Because for the first time in my college career, I have no distractions. I’m single, I don’t owe anyone a single thing, and I’ve landed an internship at one of the most reputable event agencies in South Florida.

  The nervous energy flowing through me is almost palpable as I step into one of the six elevators, so I let out a long exhale as the doors start to close.

  But then a dark hand reaches in to stop them.

  The doors slowly slide back open, and when they reveal the man attached to the hand, I’m glad I got in one last calming breath because there’s absolutely no way I’m breathing now.

  There’s only one word to accurately describe him: Pristine.

  Everything about him is sharp — the edge of his short fade, the line of his nose, the angle of his cleanly shaven jaw. My eyes skate over every inch of him, focus shifting from his broad shoulders to the button of his charcoal suit jacket as he uses one hand to fasten it before stepping inside the elevator with me. He reminds me of Clinton, the same smooth skin and full lips, but Mr. Pristine is a little taller and leaner. I chance another glance at him as the doors begin to close, and he tugs his shades off, tucking them into the front pocket of his jacket before acknowledging me with a smirk and dark, intense eyes.

  I swallow, eyes shifting to focus on the white light illuminating floor thirty-two as we start to ascend. I’m absolutely not looking at his reflection in the doors of the elevator. Totally not noticing that his eyes are still on me, roaming my skin the way mine just did his. And when his tongue sweeps his bottom lip subtly, almost so imperceptibly I’m not even sure I really saw it, my thighs definitely don’t clench together under my dress.

  I’m one-hundred percent cool.

  Until he speaks, that is.

  “So, you’re on an elevator with a complete stranger for approximately twenty-five seconds,” he says, the deep baritone of his voice filling the small space between us. I’m still staring at the way his suit tapers at his waist in the elevator door reflection. “Do you A, ride up in awkward silence, or B, tell this stranger why your hands are shaking.”

  My eyes snap to his, and he smiles a little wider, knowing he got my attention. I watch him for a moment, his demeanor so cool and calm, and then I clear my throat, facing forward again. I have no idea what to say to that. And if I ignore him much longer, he’ll assume I picked option A. Which is probably the option I should choose, but after a few long seconds, I figure what the hell? Might as well get it out to someone, and why not a stranger?

  And so, my nervous energy flows out like word vomit.

  “Today is the first day of my internship for what I consider to be the best corporate event agency in Florida and I’m just… I’m nervous, which is weird for me because I’m never nervous, like when I used to pole dance I never once got nervous before I went on stage.” I pause, eyes widening at what I’d said just as one of Mr. Pristine’s eyebrows shoots up to his hairline. “It was competitive pole dancing,” I clarify. “Like fitness.”

  He’s still smirking.

  Floor seventeen.

  “Anyway, I’ve just had a shit year and this semester I’m determined to turn things around. I want to walk into this internship and impress every single person I talk to — boss, colleague, client, and everyone in-between. So, I guess I’m okay with the fact that my hands are trembling now, so long as they’re steady as stone when I start shaking other peoples’ hands.”

  He nods, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he eyes me with what feels like respect as the elevator comes to a halt with a soft ding. The doors swing open, and I offer him one last shrug and a smile.

  “Wow, that actually helped. Thanks for being the smokin’ hot stranger in the elevator,” I say, stepping off as he holds the doors open.

  His eyes spark with even more intensity when I pass him, my arm grazing his jacket. “My pleasure. Thanks for choosing option B.”


  I chuckle, giving him an awkward, small wave goodbye.

  But then he steps off the elevator, too.

  “Oh, and welcome to the best agency in South Florida,” he says, still smirking as he uses his badge to enter through the sleek metal doors under the Okay, Cool Event Agency sign. I catch the door before it can close, mouth gaping wide, eyes glued to his back as he walks down the row of cubes.

  “Hi!” a chipper voice says, snapping me back to reality. The voice belongs to a short, curvy girl around my age with dark blonde hair and freckles lining her cheeks. “You must be one of the interns. I’m Mykayla, the receptionist for Okay, Cool. I see you already met our CEO, so we can skip his office on the tour.”

  “CEO?” I ask, voice a little squeaky as my eyes jet to Mr. Pristine’s back again. He turns his head just as his hand finds the handle to an office all the way at the other end, and damn it if he doesn’t smirk again as he pushes the door open and disappears inside.

  “Yeah, that’s Brandon Church — Mr. Church to us,” she adds with a wink. “Come on, let’s grab some coffee and I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone. Your manager won’t be in for another hour or so.”

  “Fantastic,” I murmur. Then I follow her to the break room, all the while wondering why the universe hates me.

  I FLOP DOWN ON my bed with a sigh, closing my eyes and reveling in the silence.

  Being president of Alpha Sigma is amazing, but damn is it busy. We’ve only been back at PSU for a little over a week and we’re already in full swing, working on preparing for our second annual concert, signing up for philanthropy event after philanthropy event, and now with the suspension of Omega Chi, planning a full calendar of socials and parties. I told the guys when they elected me that we were going to make a name for Alpha Sigma this year, and already I can feel that promise coming to life.

  It’s rewarding, but it’s also exhausting, so I cherish the feel of my cool comforter against my back and close my eyes, letting out a long breath.