Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7)

by Kandi Steiner

  Already, my heart feels lighter, my soul warmer knowing I’ll have my girls to help me sort through this mess I’m in — and that we can celebrate our girl finding the man of her dreams, too.

  There’s a short round of catching up and happy holiday wishes before we end the call.

  And when we hang up, I get to work planning the most epic bachelorette party ever.

  “PLEASE SAY SOMETHING.”

  Adam’s voice pierces through the ringing in my ears, the fog clouding my vision as I grip my phone tighter than necessary. I blink, over and over, processing what he’s said.

  “Cassie…”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Adam,” I finally whisper, sniffing back the urge to cry. I’m not sure if they would be sad or angry tears at this point.

  “It’s not ideal, I know.”

  “Not ideal?” I scoff, and Lindsey — my roommate — widens her eyes before closing her textbook and popping off her bed. She gives me a little wave to let me know she’s giving me space, and closes the door on her way out.

  I grit my teeth.

  “Not only are you saying that the trip to Colorado to see you that I’ve been looking forward to since the day we said goodbye is now not happening, but you’re also saying you’re going to have Thanksgiving with some other girl’s family.”

  “In Baltimore,” he adds for me. “In order to secure a job that would put me there permanently.” There’s a long pause before he says, “With you.”

  I shake my head. “Is there something going on with her? Are you…” Bile rises in my throat. “Are you cheating on me?”

  My bottom lip wobbles with the question, and Adam curses. “Of course not. Baby, how could you even ask that?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Hey, look down. You see that silver chain and those two letters hanging around your neck?” he asks.

  And I do. I wrap my fingers around the charm, closing my eyes and freeing a silent tear.

  “That was a promise to you. A promise that I love you, more than anyone, and that I will be true to you. Always. You’re my person, Cassie.”

  “But things change. You’ve been away for a whole semester almost, and you’ve spent so much time with this girl.” I sniff again. “I wouldn’t blame you if you… if you found other interests. If you outgrew me. If you…”

  “Stop. Stop right there,” he says. “First of all, you would kill me if that were true, and you know it.”

  I almost smile at that.

  “Secondly, I love you. I miss you — and that’s exactly why this is important to me. I know it sucks in the short term. It breaks my fucking heart to have to make this call,” he admits with a strained voice. “But what if this is the key to us being together come spring? What if we could not only be in the same city, but in the same house?” He pauses. “Or apartment, or whatever.”

  My heart squeezes at that. “You want to move in together?”

  “If I get this job? Hell fucking yes, I do. I want to be able to kiss you every night before I go to sleep and kiss you as soon as my eyes open in the morning.”

  I clutch my necklace, slumping back against the headboard. “I hate this.”

  “I know. I do, too. I tried to do it through just a phone call, but… I mean, this is Simmons Snacks, Cassie. They’re a big deal. They’re not going to be won over by a resume and some guy they don’t know on a phone call — if they would even take it. But to Chandler, they aren’t Fortune 100 business owners — they’re Nana and PopPop. It wouldn’t be an interview, it’d be a family meal, maybe a cigar and a glass with her grandfather. And maybe, a job offer.”

  “This is a lot to give up for maybe.”

  “It’s a sacrifice, yes,” he agrees. “And I hate asking you to make it. But I’m willing to, if it means I might have a chance to have a great job with a great company in the city where my amazing girlfriend is moving.”

  My heart wars with my brain, logic and emotions clawing and hissing over who’s right and who’s wrong. In the end, it’s confusion who wins, and I slump even more.

  “I’ll see you at Christmas,” he adds when I don’t respond. “That’s just one more month.”

  My mouth tugs to the side. That is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that my Thanksgiving plans have been blown to smithereens.

  And that he’s going to some other girl’s house for a holiday.

  “Trust me,” he begs after another long silence, as if he can hear my thoughts shredding me apart. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  And I know he’s right.

  I know he’d never hurt me.

  I nod even though he can’t see me, and then let out a long, slow sigh. “I trust you.”

  We talk for a little while longer, and eventually, the tears dry up and I’m laughing and aching with how much I miss him. We end the call with a million I love you’s and I feel half-assured that everything really will be okay in the end.

  The other half of me feels like a woman unhinged, like I’m teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff.

  I flop back on the bed, eyes losing focus as I stare up at the ceiling.

  And then, I grab my phone and group text the girls.

  Change of plans. Got room for one more?

  MY NAILS ARE DUG so deep into my palms, I’m about to draw blood.

  These balled-up fists are all that’s saving me from trashing Erin’s room and this whole damn condo as she calmly, casually packs her bag for her girls’ trip.

  I’m not mad about the girls’ trip. No, I’m happy for her. I’m happy she’s getting away. I’m happy she can take a break from the trial and school and therapy. I’m happy for Ashlei, too — for her and Brandon and the whole celebration.

  What I’m not happy about is the text that came through Erin’s phone on our way home from her parents this morning, having had a very pleasant Thanksgiving dinner last night.

  Hey, any word from lawyer?

  From Gavin.

  My jaw clenches so tight it gives me a headache as I remember those words flittering on her phone screen in the console between us as she drove, his name in bold letters above it.

  It’d been all I could do to wait until we got home to discuss it.

  “I’m not hanging out with him outside of therapy,” Erin repeats as she folds another swimsuit and tucks it into her bag. “He’s asked, but I’ve said no every time.”

  “But he’s back,” I say as calmly as I can. “He’s back and you didn’t tell me. He’s back and you’re friendly with each other. He’s back and he’s texting you.”

  Erin sighs, pausing with her hands in her bag as her eyes meet mine. “Are we really doing this?”

  “Hell fucking yes, we’re doing this. Why did you keep it from me?”

  “I didn’t keep it from you. I planned on telling you by inviting Gavin over for dinner. With both of us. So you could see that while he’s back, he’s nothing to me.”

  “If he’s nothing to you, then why are you talking to him at all?”

  She frowns. “Okay, maybe not nothing.”

  My blood boils, but before I can scream, Erin holds up her hands.

  “He’s nothing like that — romantic or anything past a friend. Okay? I just…” She bites her lip, eyes focusing on something across the room. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but Gavin is important to me. He’s important to my recovery.” Her eyes meet mine then. “He’s part of the closure I’m seeking, as well as a very important part of my entire healing process. He was there for me, Bear. He was there when no one else was.”

  That makes me growl, and Erin shakes her head.

  “You can be upset if you want to, but you weren’t talking to me. You were pissed off and dating someone else and,” she adds, pointing at me. “I’m not mad at you for that. I don’t blame you. You had every right to be upset with me, and to be in love with another woman. But similarly, I had the right to be with another man, and to lean on him when I had no one else
.”

  I’m breathing like a bull now, nostrils flaring as I try to see her side, try to calm myself.

  But I simply can’t.

  “This is all bullshit,” I spit. “Gavin, therapy, all of it. He wasn’t part of your healing, Erin. He was part of the problem.”

  I expect those words to hit her hard, but instead, her shoulders slump, brows folding together. “Therapy is bullshit?” she repeats, shaking her head. “We’re back to this?”

  “You know what I mean,” I say flippantly.

  “No, I don’t think I do. And I don’t think you understand how therapy didn’t just help me — it saved me. And in a lot of ways, so did Gavin. I’m sorry you hate to hear that, but it’s true.”

  I force a long inhale, folding my arms over my chest and shaking my head over and over as I stare out her floor-to-ceiling window at the Miami skyline.

  “Look, I’m glad you’re perfect and you’ve got everything figured out in your life,” she says, tossing a pair of sandals into her bag with more force than necessary. “No trauma in your life. No feelings to sort through. Absolutely no family drama at all for you, right?”

  I grit my teeth. “Don’t bring my family into this.”

  “Oh, of course not. Why would I? We never talk about them, do we?”

  Her words slam into me.

  “That’s how it always goes,” she continues. “I’m the crazy one for going to therapy, but you’re completely sane not talking about your mother’s abandonment, her addiction, the way that addiction spread to your older brother, how she’s back now, how Clayton’s relationship with her is different – will forever be different from yours.”

  I swallow the knot in my throat, still too angry to admit she might be right.

  “I have to get to the airport,” she says, forcefully zipping up her bag.

  Her declaration snaps me back to the present moment, to the whole reason I was angry in the first place.

  “I don’t want you seeing him.”

  “Well, that’s just too damn bad.”

  I hook her elbow when she tries to swing past me. “What would you do if this were me? What if Shawna showed up and wanted to be my friend?”

  Erin’s brows pinch together, and she shakes her head. “Are you kidding?” She rests her hand on my forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I would be happy for you. After what happened between you two, the way things went down? I would be ecstatic for that closure for you, for that opportunity to mend a relationship that meant so much to you — even if was just platonic now.”

  “I don’t need a relationship with her. I don’t ever want to talk to her again.”

  “And that’s your choice. I respect it.” She shakes her head, her doe eyes searching mine. “Why can’t you do the same for me?”

  My jaw muscles pop, and I look away from her, trying again to see through my fury and understand what she’s saying.

  But I just fucking can’t.

  Erin sighs, dropping her hold on me and moving for her door again. “You can let yourself out. Just lock up before you go.”

  “Erin,” I say, catching her elbow again.

  She pauses at the door, turning to look at me with eyes that tell me more than her words that she’s not just sad we’re fighting.

  She’s disappointed.

  In me.

  And I wish I could be level-headed, that I could see it from her point of view, but regardless of how pissed off I am, I don’t want her to leave like this.

  I gently tug until she lets me pull her into my arms, and I wrap her in a fierce hug, letting out a slow breath at the way she feels in my arms, her head against my chest, the scent of her hair in my nose.

  “I love you,” I remind her.

  “I love you, too.”

  I swallow as she pulls away, waiting for me to say something else. But I don’t have anything to say that wouldn’t upset her more — or me.

  So I say nothing at all.

  She leaves.

  And I punch a hole through her wall.

  “SHOT SKI! SHOT SKI! Shot ski! Shot ski!”

  You would think it’s Spring Break instead of a family holiday weekend by the amount of twenty-something year olds gathered around the pool at La Rose Roja Resort. The girls and I were all pleasantly surprised to find it so packed and happening when we arrived yesterday, the resort employees handing us our first fruity cocktails.

  And the party has raged on ever since.

  As to be expected, we nearly blacked out on our first night, not even bothering to get all dolled up to go out. We just got to our penthouse, freaked the fuck out over what Brandon had set up for us, and then promptly changed into our swimsuits and went down to the pool party.

  After that, things got a little fuzzy.

  A few things I remember…

  One, Jess dancing on the bar during a wet t-shirt contest and winning easily when she decided the wet t-shirt was just getting in the way, so she stripped it up over her head.

  Two, Cassie and Ashlei making a giant, teetering pyramid out of beer cans, stealing empties from every guy and girl alike to add to their masterpiece. They let out a victorious cheer when it finally got so big that it crashed to the ground and half of it ended up in the pool.

  Three, Erin letting loose more than I’d seen her since maybe my freshman year of college. She took shots and danced in the pool, and even played along with some guy who’s here for a bachelor party and needed to get a girl to ride around on his shoulders to knock an item off their scavenger hunt list.

  And four — yet another text from Kip lighting up my phone, haunting me even through my buzzed haze.

  Where are you?

  Maybe it’s self-preservation, how I’ve ignored every message from him since that night he called me to apologize. He told me to hold onto him, but inside, I know I have to do the opposite.

  I have to let him go.

  So I’ve been focusing on school, on Kappa Kappa Beta, on my new Grand Little, on my meetings with the guidance counselor to figure out where I’m going after graduation.

  I’ve ignored every call, every how are you, I miss you, are you okay, where are you, please call me that he’s sent.

  Being out of the country with my best friends has made it easier to do so — well, as easy as letting Kip Jackson go can be, at least.

  Which is to say, it’s slightly less torturous.

  Now, it’s day two of our trip, and after a successful morning brunch, afternoon of relaxing by the pool, and evening of massages — we’re back for round two, the sun setting over the resort, bass thumping from the DJ’s booth perched over the pool.

  Erin, Cassie, and Jess have a shot ski in their hands — an old wooden ski painted with the resort’s colors and fitted with shot-glass-sized holes that now host a full mouthful of tequila. It takes precision to get the shots lined up with each of their mouths and to pour them down without spilling all over someone, but they pull it off — to the roaring approval of the crowd.

  When they finish, Erin holds the ski over her head in victory, and then someone at the resort is taking it from her and carrying it to the back to wash it and no doubt line it up for the next victims.

  “I’m drunk,” Cassie slurs, slinging her arm around my neck.

  “Easy, Little — it’s only nine.”

  “Come dance with me,” she says instead of acknowledging how young the night is, but I oblige her, letting her take my hand and drag me to the shallow end of the pool right in front of the DJ.

  Everything is warped and blurry, not because I’m drunk, but because that’s just the state of being I’ve existed in since Kip and I fought last semester. It’s like being half-frozen, half-numb, like a dream where you’re underwater and try to punch something but can’t.

  My hands are up in the air, hips swaying to the rhythm, eyes closed and lights coloring my eyelids green and blue and pink and purple as we dance.

  But inside, I’m sitting alone in a dark room, staring at the ceiling.


  Existing.

  Cassie finally decides she needs water, and we make our way through the crowd and over to the VIP booth that comes with our penthouse rental. It’s got three massive day beds and two dedicated servers to bring us alcohol or food — or water, which is very much needed in this moment.

  Jess and Ashlei are kicked back on one of the day beds, lost in conversation, and Erin is somewhere still dancing in the pool when Cassie and I slip through the roped-off entryway.

  I can’t help but smile at the sight of Ashlei in her all-white bikini, the gold sash across her chest reading BRIDE-TO-BE — except to be is scratched out and ALREADY is written in Sharpie above it. Even with her arm in a sling, she’s radiant, glowing only the way a new bride can.

  Bride.

  She’s married.

  As if the thought has just finally sunk in, I wrap her in a fierce hug as soon as I’m inside our little area, and she giggles, squeezing me in return.

  “You’re married,” I whisper in her ear.

  “I know. How crazy is this?”

  “Insanely crazy. Also, insanely amazing.”

  She nods when I pull back, her eyes glossy. “I love that rich bastard.”

  I bark out a laugh. “I know.”

  “Oh, here,” Jess says when I’m standing again. She tosses my phone to me before I’m prepared to catch it. It bobbles a little in my hand before I grip it tight. “That thing has been blowing up.”

  I frown, looking at the dozen missed call requests on the screen. They’re from a number I don’t recognize, an area code I’ve never seen before.

  I chew my cheek, wondering if it’s Kip trying any means necessary to get ahold of me. I can’t think of anyone else it would be.

  “Just call him back,” Erin says from over my shoulder. I jump, not realizing she had joined us, and she gives me a knowing smile as she squeezes my arm. “Hear him out. Even if your choice is still the same and you think it’s over, you at least owe it to him to put him out of his misery and make sure he knows that’s your decision, too.”

  My mouth tugs to the side, stomach roiling at the thought of ever saying those words, at ever officially admitting that we’re done. But I nod, letting her know I hear her.