The semester hasn’t exactly been the best for me, with Omega Chi being on probation and the fight with Skyler, but I finally feel like everything is falling back into place. We still get to recruit new members in the spring, which means we’ll all be busy when we get back to campus. Add in the facts that I get to spend a few weeks with my brother and Skyler and I are good again, and I’m finding plenty to be thankful for.
Skyler starts the cabbage patch when the DJ spins a disco track and I follow suit, pointing one finger up into the air before crossing it over my hip to point down and back up again. Jess and Ashlei join us, along with Greg and a few of my other brothers, and we make a dance circle, taking turns doing ridiculous dance moves in the middle to a crowd of cheers.
When a slow song comes on, most of the floor clears, making way for couples. Jess and Greg stay on the floor while Ashlei, Skyler, and I make our way back to our table.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Skyler says, pointing over her shoulder. “Grab us fresh beers and meet back here?”
“On it.”
She skips off with Ashlei’s arm linked in hers and I head toward the bar at the far end of the ballroom.
Semi-formal is always a little more casual than Formal held in the spring, but everyone still dresses up, and the setting is always some sort of fancy hotel or venue with a ballroom. This one also has a garden, one that connects to the back end of the ballroom where one of the bars is, and when I glance out the door as I wait in line and spot Erin sitting alone on one of the benches, I frown.
Abandoning my spot in line, I dip through the glass double doors, the heat of the night hitting me as soon as they close behind me. It may be December, but it’s still South Florida, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat gathering on the back of Erin’s slender neck as she stares down at her lap, rolling something over and over in her hands.
It’s just the two of us outside — probably because ties and tight dresses already make you sweat enough without adding humidity to them — so I take the open seat next to her on the detailed metal bench.
For a moment I let my eyes roam the garden, taking in the low-hanging trees and wide array of bright flowers. There are a few bird baths, too — the water gently running from each of them serving as the only soundtrack as I try to think of what to say to her. Erin and I haven’t spoken since the night of her birthday, and she made it pretty clear that she didn’t want my help… or maybe even my friendship. But I can’t just walk away from her, not when she’s hurting — even if she denies that she is.
“My mom used to have a garden,” I say finally, my voice soft and low. “When I was younger. Maybe like five or six or so? Before the drugs became more important to her than anything else.”
Erin pauses rolling whatever it is she’s holding and clasps her hands over it tight, listening.
“I would help her sometimes. She didn’t grow flowers as much as like vegetables and stuff. I remember we had fresh tomatoes in our dinners almost every night — in a salad, on a sandwich, mashed up into chili — whatever.” I shake my head. “The garden just turned into a dried-up mess of weeds after she got into drugs, though.”
“I’m sorry,” Erin whispers.
“It’s okay. I really don’t think about her much, honestly. But something about this garden struck that memory, I guess.”
Erin nods and I finally look down at her, taking in the soft shape of her face, the rosy tint of her cheeks, the long slender slope of her nose. She’s always had such a classy and regal look about her, which fits perfectly with the all-black pantsuit she’s wearing tonight. It’s cut deep in the front, right between her chest, but tastefully so, and the back is open, too. Something tells me she decided to wear pants instead of a dress for a reason, a statement of sorts, even if she’s the only one she’s making it for.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Erin,” I say, still watching her.
“Thank you.”
I pause, waiting to see if she’ll talk, but when she doesn’t, I try for humor. “What? Not going to compliment me on my dope threads?” I pull at the cuffs of the gray, black and white plaid jacket I paired with an all-black dress shirt and forest green dress slacks, popping my collar with a grin.
Erin eyes me, a soft smile cracking at the edges of her lips. “It’s a wonder what wearing something other than basketball shorts can do.”
“I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
She smiles a little more but it drops from her face too quickly, reminding me that she’s still a sad girl sitting alone on a bench at her Semi-formal.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, nudging her gently.
Erin shakes her head, fists closed tight around the object of her hand. “Did you hear about Landon’s car?”
My fists clench just at the mention of his name. “Yeah. Fucker deserved it.”
“I did it,” she says quickly, lifting her eyes to look at mine for just a split second before focusing on her hands again. “I thought it would make me feel better, to get some sort of revenge.” She shrugs. “But it just made me feel worse. Because there’s absolutely nothing I could ever do to him that would be as horrible as what he did to me.”
It’s like a fiery arrow is shot straight into my chest at her words and I reach my hand out, grazing her lower back just enough to let her know I’m here. “You could press charges.”
She scoffs. “Don’t, Bear.”
I know her stance on it already — that she feels like it doesn’t matter what she says or does, he’ll get away with it. She was drunk, they’ll say she was “asking for it.” And even if they did give him jail time or anything else, it wouldn’t make her feel better, and then she’d just be the poor girl who was raped. These are all things she’s told me multiple times since that night, but I hate hearing them, hate that she believes them… hate that in many ways, she’s right. Our justice system doesn’t seek much justice for rape victims, not the way it should.
Erin laughs a little. “And then, to add insult to injury, I was walking by the Student Union earlier and this perky little sophomore on the Orientation Team stops me, telling me that they’re fighting back against sexual assault on campus. And she hands me this,” she says, opening her hand and holding up a small, teal and orange whistle — PSU’s school colors. “‘It’s a rape whistle,’ she said.” Erin laughs again. “Like this will save anyone. Like this will make it stop.”
Suddenly, Erin pops the whistle in her mouth and starts blowing it, loud shrieks piercing the otherwise quiet night around us. She blows it over and over again, her eyes welling with tears, face red when I finally take her in my arms and hold her tight to my chest.
She keeps blowing it, and to drive her point home further, no one inside the ballroom even looks our way. She might as well be whispering.
Finally, the whistle falls from her mouth and she catches it in her hands, choking on a sob as she leans into my chest.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, running my hand over her hair as I hold her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Erin.”
She lets me hold her for a short minute before she’s shoving me off, wiping at her face like she’s stupid for crying. “Whatever. I was just making a point. Even if I would have had this,” she spits, holding up the whistle again. “This stupid thing, I would have maybe been able to blow it twice before it would have been ripped from my mouth. And that’s if I could even manage to get it out of my clutch. And, even if I did, no one would have heard me.”
“I was too late,” I say, fists clenching at my side again. “I should have known something was off. I should have found you earlier.”
“How would you have known?” she challenges, looking at me again. “The door was shut. The music in the ballroom was loud. There’s nothing you could have done.” She hiccups, wiping at her face again. “There’s nothing anyone could have done, other than Landon and his friends.” Her face twists. “I don’t even know their names.”
I reach for her again but s
he pulls away, standing.
“You need to talk to someone, Erin.”
“I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” I deadpan. “You’re going to break if you don’t get this off your chest and start working through it.”
She laughs, eyes brimming over again. “I’m already fucking broken.”
“You’re not broken, but you are losing yourself.”
“Yeah?” she asks, patronizing me. “Well, maybe I’ll like the new girl I find. Maybe she’ll be stronger and not take any shit.”
“Or maybe she’ll be a cold shell of the amazing girl I used to know. And dead inside,” I counter.
Erin’s eyes catch mine then, her face as smooth as stone. “Better to be dead inside than live with this pain anymore.”
My heart is too broken to say another word before she turns, tucking the whistle into her clutch and walking back inside the ballroom.
MY STRAPLESS DRESS is a giant pain in my ass.
I tug it up by the sides again, for what feels like the fiftieth time, as I wait for Ashlei to finish touching up her lipstick. It’s a beautiful dress — navy blue with gold sequins and studs swirled in a floral design over the sweetheart neckline down to my waist, where the navy tulle flares off and ends right above my knees. But I purchased it before Thanksgiving, and I’ve lost too much weight since then for it to fit properly.
Not that I’m trying to lose weight, but apparently it’s a side effect of losing someone you care about.
Ever since Thanksgiving, everything has felt off. Grayson and I seem fine by all accounts — we’re having great sex, spending more time together, making plans for the future — but it’s like I’m only living with half of myself turned on, like the other half is stuck in a dark coma. I can’t study to save my life, which is not conducive to the final exams I have coming up. I can’t eat, I can barely sleep. Because the truth of the matter is I made a choice that day, on Thanksgiving — one that I didn’t want to make. And now I’m facing the cold, hard truth of it all.
I don’t want to live without Adam in my life.
But I have to in order to keep Grayson.
Adam hasn’t spoken to me since that day — hasn’t even tried to. He understood, he knew I didn’t want to do it but that I had to. Still, everything has been so empty without him. Even tonight, not seeing him staring holes into the back of my head from across the dance floor bothers me. Is that selfish? Probably, but I want him here.
I’m not allowed to want that, but I do.
“Is it just me, or does Semi kind of suck this year?” Ashlei asks on a sigh, popping her violet lips together before dropping her lipstick back in her clutch.
“It’s not just you.”
She turns to me, head tilted to the side. “Well, I’m stag, so I know a little of the reason why it sucks for me. Why does it suck for you?”
Where to begin?
I smile, waving her off. “We’ve just had better venues, that’s all. And I’m so tired from all the studying I’ve been doing lately.”
“Ugh,” Ashlei agrees, linking her arm through mine to head back out to the ballroom. “You really have been hitting the books. Remind me again why you chose biology for a major?”
“Damn aspirations to be a doctor.”
“Oh, yeah.” She giggles. “That.”
We make it back out to the dance floor just in time to hear the music shift to a slower rhythm, once again causing a mass exodus from the dance floor. Clinton ends up keeping Skyler out there this time, and everyone is laughing at the two of them doing some sort of fake waltz to a slow Usher song.
I search for Grayson, wanting nothing more than to just be held by him as we sway back and forth on the dance floor. I feel so weird lately, and being close to him is one of the only things that helps. It reminds me why I made the choice I did, why I sacrificed someone who means something to me. Grayson is the first boy I’ve ever truly loved, and who loves me, too. It’s powerful and addictive, like the best kind of drug, and all I want tonight is to drown in him.
“Hey, have you seen Grayson?” I ask Jess and her date, Greg. It’s still a little weird seeing her with someone other than Jarrett, but she’s smiling and seems happy, so I’m thankful he’s here.
“Oh! Him and his friend — Malik? — went outside to the garden to sneak a few drinks from their flasks, I think,” Jess answers, letting Greg pull her up from her seat at the table and onto the dance floor.
“Thanks!”
I walk as fast as I can in my high heels toward the entrance to the garden at the back of the ballroom, pushing through the double doors to find an empty bench. I frown, letting the doors close behind me as I look for Grayson. The garden is small, but the winding path leads back a ways, so I follow it, guessing he and Malik are probably hiding out somewhere.
When the stiff stench of marijuana hits my nose, I know I’ve found someone, but I’m a little surprised when I spot Grayson through the tall bushes near the back corner taking a joint from Malik’s hand and holding it to his lips.
The sight of it stops me still in my tracks, my heart thundering in my ears. It’s not that I necessarily have anything against smoking, but I never knew Grayson was into it. He never told me. And in this moment, it feels a lot like something he should have told me.
It feels a lot like something he’s hiding.
My feet are still glued to the garden path when Grayson passes the joint back to Malik, his voice strange as he tries to hold in the smoke and talk at the same time. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I see her being a forever sort of thing.” He blows out a cloud of smoke, checking over his shoulder at the opening in the path. “She’s just college, and I get that. But at least now he’s out of my way.”
“I’m surprised you were cool about it for as long as you were,” Malik says. “That kid has it bad for her. She’s lying if she says she doesn’t see it.”
Grayson shakes his head, dipping into his jacket for his flask. “I don’t know. Cassie is just kind of naïve like that. I’m not sure she really sees it, but I do. Which is why I put my foot down and put an end to it.”
My throat closes at the mention of my name, heart still racing. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but now I can’t stop.
“Atta boy,” Malik says, handing the joint back to Grayson as a puff of smoke leaves his lips. “Speaking of complications, is that groupie finally leaving you alone?”
“Ugh, I wish. That girl cannot take a hint. If only she was as bright as that neon pink hair of hers.”
Malik chuckles. “Hey, at least she gives good head. You going to miss that?”
My stomach lurches as Grayson grins, taking a hit from the joint and passing it back. “Nah. Surprisingly, Cassie is pretty hot in bed.”
“Now that she’s actually fucking you, that is. Think she’ll ever find out about the groupie?”
“No way. She knows I love her. Alexis was just a stress relief until Cassie was ready. Had to get it from somewhere, you know?” he jokes, and Malik grins with approval. “Once Cassie let me hit, I stopped texting Alexis altogether.”
“Wow, what a great boyfriend,” I spit, rounding the bushes until Malik can see me. His eyes widen and Grayson turns, all the color draining from his face when he sees me, too. “To give up your hook ups with a groupie once you got in my pants. So charming.”
My voice is just as shaky as my hands and I hate it, rolling them into fists as I try to stand tall, trying to control the racing of my heart long enough to put Grayson in his place. I ran from the last guy who fucked me over, letting him make a fool of me.
Not this time.
“Cassie, I don’t know what you heard but—”
“Don’t touch me,” I seethe, cutting Grayson off mid-sentence as his hands reach out for me. “You’ll never touch me again. I hope she was worth it.”
“Come on—”
“No!” I shake my head, eyes bouncing between Grayson’s like I’ve never seen him before in my life, like he
’s a stranger who somehow has the power to break my heart. “No, I’m not listening to another word. And you asked me to give up my friendship with Adam because — what — your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep at night?”
Grayson swallows, joint still burning in his hand as he pleads with his eyes for me to see him, to want him, to listen to him — but I do none of the above.
“Is she why you were late to the Alpha Sigma concert?” I shake my head, the need to cry burning at the back of my throat and eyes but I refuse to give in. “Is she why you cancelled our date that night?”
He swallows, lips in a flat line and face ashen, which is all the answer I need.
I choke, almost breaking down before shaking it off. “I knew you were a performer,” I say, holding my chin up. “But had I known you were playing me like your fucking guitar, I would have stopped buying tickets to the shows a long time ago.”
“Cassie, just please—”
“Go fuck yourself, Grayson.”
I turn without another look in his direction, not stopping when he calls my name or sprints after me. I snatch my clutch off the table, fighting back tears as Ashlei and Jess swarm me, asking what’s wrong. Skyler is there next, pushing Grayson away as he tries to break through the crowd to get to me.
“I just want to leave,” I choke out, trying so hard not to cry I can’t breathe from holding the tears in.
“Let’s go.” Skyler grabs my hand, telling Clinton to call us a cab and meet on the curb outside. She holds me in her arms as we walk, not asking any questions, knowing I can’t talk in that moment.
It’s not when we make it outside that I let myself cry. It’s not in the cab ride home, or in Skyler’s arms as she hugs me tight at the house. No, it’s not until well after midnight, when I’ve finished telling her what happened and walked numbly up to my room, stripping out of my dress and removing my makeup before slipping into my sheets that I finally break down.
Because my sheets smell like him.
Palm South University: Season 3 Box Set Page 22