Or, at least, trying to.
Under that joy and fun is a thick layer of slimy anger holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.
Kip showing up to surprise Skyler was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. It reminded me of something out of a movie, and the way he looked at her, the way he flew hundreds of miles without sleeping because he was so sick at the thought of losing her…
It makes my stomach hurt.
Because it’s beautiful.
And because I want it to be Adam who showed up like that.
I want it to be him who surprised me, who said he couldn’t wait to leave Baltimore after the Thanksgiving meeting, couldn’t stand to be away from me any longer. I want it to be the two of us holed up in a room somewhere in the resort, making love for hours. I want it to be me wrapped up in my guy’s arms, smitten from the fact that he flew all the way here just to find me, just to have me and remind me that it’s us against the world.
Instead, I’ve had a string of measly text messages that make my blood boil.
We barely talked on Thanksgiving, save for the early call he made to wish me a happy holiday. We watched part of the Macy’s Day Parade together before he said he had to go, and my gut soured at the sound of Chandler’s voice in the background of that call.
It shouldn’t have upset me. He said all the right things, assured me everything was okay, and I knew he was doing it for us. He wanted a job in the same city where I would go to school so we wouldn’t have to be apart any longer.
But he was willing to sacrifice being with me to do it.
And I hate that fact.
I hate that he didn’t say no to Chandler, that he didn’t say he could find a different job. As selfish as it sounds, because I know Simmons is an amazing company he’d be lucky to work for, I just don’t want to have to share him.
Not even like this.
Perhaps what’s driven me past sad to angry is how he hasn’t called since then, nor has he been attentive over texts. Sure, I’m with my girls and want to be present to celebrate Ashlei, but when my texts go unanswered for hours only to get a sorry, it’s really busy over here, but I miss you so much and I think I’ve got this job in the bag!
Well…
It just hurts.
And maybe it’s the alcohol swimming in my body, the music thumping through my soul, and the hopeless romantic still swooning after what Kip did — but I’m sad and lonely and pissed off.
The more the night goes on, the more I fear that may be the most dangerous combination of emotions.
“I want another shot,” I tell Ashlei, and I don’t wait for her before I’m making a beeline through the crowd, back to the stairs that exit the pool.
She chases after me, catching my elbow just as I hit the bar.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I shrug her off. “I’m fine. You want one?”
Ashlei frowns. “No. And I don’t want you to take one, either.”
“Come on, Lei. Loosen up! This is your bachelorette party and I feel like you’ve been the most tame of all of us.”
Lei frowns, and then her eyes are scanning the crowd.
I have no doubt she’s looking for Erin, or Jess, or both of them for backup, so I make my move before she can stop me.
“Two tequila shots,” I tell the same bartender who has been helping me all night, and he smiles, shaking his head before he pours them up.
“Be careful, señorita,” he warns.
I wink at him, taking the shots and fully preparing to take both, but then a warm hand wraps around me from behind.
“Looks like you could use some help with one of those.”
The voice is deep and seductive, the words whispered into the shell of my ear as I’m pulled against a rock-hard body. For a moment, I let myself imagine it’s Adam, that he’s come to apologize, to tell me he hated being away from me so badly he couldn’t stand another minute apart, to dance with his girl and take her back to his room and…
I sway my hips against the stranger in time with the music, letting my head drop back against his chest. I feel his lips smirk against my neck as his hands find my waist, and he moves with me, taking the weight of me as the alcohol sets in even more.
I’m dizzy, the world spinning, my legs barely holding me up anymore. But it feels so good to be touched, to be held, to have warm arms wrapped around me and warm breath touching my skin.
The stranger trails his hand down my arm, grabbing one of the shots from me before he carefully, slowly spins me around to face him. Or maybe he spun me quickly and I was just moving in slow motion, because some of my shot sloshes out of the glass, and he laughs, steadying me with a, “Whoa, there.”
I smile, peering through the drunken haze to study his face.
He’s absolutely gorgeous.
His dark blond hair is wet from the pool, sticking up this way and that, his skin a little red from being in the sun. He’s got a goofy, charming sort of smile, a broad jaw, a little dent in his nose like he maybe got into a fight once and took a blow he never recovered from.
He’s still holding my hip with one hand, his other wrapped around the shot glass, and he clinks it to mine before throwing his back.
I know I shouldn’t do it.
I know I’m well past my limit.
But I throw mine back, anyway, this time grimacing and fighting down the roil of my stomach that immediately comes once I’ve swallowed.
The guy smirks at me, taking both our empty glasses and setting them on the counter.
Then his hands are on my hips again.
And his eyes are searching mine.
And I press up on my toes, launch myself into his arms, wrap my hands around his neck…
And kiss him.
He groans, sliding his hands around my hips to palm my ass and pull me more into him as I thread my hands through his hair. He smells like sunscreen and chlorine and tequila, his lips foreign, not moving the way they should with mine, his hands too aggressive, his hair not the right texture.
And when he slides one of his hands beneath my swimsuit to grab my bare ass and squeeze, my eyes shoot open and I realize what I’ve done.
I press my hands into his chest and shove him back, making him stumble into a group of girls who curse at him and shove him back toward me. His eyes are wild, hands up as he stares at me like I’m crazy.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, covering my mouth, shaking my head as my eyes blur with tears.
I whip around and find Jess staring at me as she makes her way through the crowd, and Erin is behind her, screaming into her phone, her face bent in anger.
When Jess finally reaches me, she wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs. “Let’s go.”
“I kissed him,” I breathe, letting her pull me.
“I know.”
“I kissed him.”
She sighs, stopping her rampage through the crowd and turning to face me. She braces her hands on my arms, leveling her gaze with mine. “I know. It’s okay. You’re drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”
But I just shake my head, over and over, the fiercest chill of my life breaking across my skin as my stomach twists and turns, my throat burning.
And before Jess can pull me any farther through the crowd, I rip away from her hold and rush to the nearest bush, surrendering what little dinner I ate and every ounce of tequila I consumed.
Then, I drop to my knees and sob.
IF ANYONE WERE TO look down upon this scene from an aerial view, they would likely remark that it’s a lovely and serene sight to behold.
A stunning penthouse suite at a gorgeous Mexican resort, the sheer white curtains floating in the breeze, the expanded balcony with a private hot tub and plunge pool all so alluring and beautiful. The magical backdrop of a pristine white beach and turquoise water, currently reflecting the full moonlight overhead, and the distant sound of the waves washing ashore.
From the outside, it appears to be an absolutely extraordina
ry slice of paradise on Earth.
But inside?
It’s a goddamn disaster.
“I… I… I’m a monster,” Cassie cries to herself, snot and tears dripping down her face as she rocks herself back and forth on one of the daybeds. She sniffs, not even bothering to wipe away the mascara staining her cheeks. “How could I do that to Adam? How can I ever live with myself again?” She balked. “How do I tell him? Oh, God.”
She covers her face and sobs even harder, and Skyler winces, rubbing her back and doing her best to comfort her Little as she falls apart. She got down to the pool just in time to see Cassie vomit in the bushes after I sent her the S.O.S. text — and that was before I even knew about Cassie.
I sent it because of Erin.
Erin, who is now pacing back and forth, arms folded hard over her chest as she shakes her head over and over, tossing between murmuring to herself and screaming curse words loud enough for the entire resort to hear. Something happened to her around the same time Cassie had her meltdown, about an hour ago amidst the thumping music of the beach club, but she has yet to tell us what, exactly.
All we know is she looked at her phone, screamed bloody murder, cried, and has been pacing ever since we all dragged Cassie back here to console her.
Ashlei disappeared into the bathroom as soon as we got back, and for how long she’s been in there, I can only imagine she’s ralphing up the fruity shots we’ve been knocking back all night.
And then there’s me, swiping back and forth between two pictures on my phone, each depicting a different man I love.
Swipe.
Me on Kade’s back, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as my hair falls over us like a curtain. His warm brown eyes are bright with love and adoration, his smile megawatt in size as he snaps the selfie.
Swipe.
Me and Jarrett in bed, his beast of a body encompassing all of mine as I curl my back into his chest like a cat. The morning sunlight reflects on our soft, sated smiles, and his dark eyes smolder at the camera, promising he’s nowhere near finished with the girl in his arms.
Swipe.
Kade.
Swipe.
Jarrett.
Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.
Back and forth, over and over, I stare at those men — the men who own my heart — and feel it break at the realization that I will hurt one of them.
That I’ve already hurt them both.
I don’t deserve the patience they’ve given me — the space, the time. And I definitely don’t deserve their love.
But I have it, and though I love them both in return, I know there’s no putting off the decision I have to make.
The decision I made long before I was ready to admit it to myself, if I were being honest.
Talking to Skyler earlier was the first time I was ready to admit it out loud, and Erin took her place tonight, asking me all the hard questions and not letting me change the subject until I answered them.
I know what I have to do.
But I also know it will kill me to do it.
In my daze, I don’t realize Erin is screaming and Cassie is having a full-on panic attack until I snap out of the trance my phone has me in. I close the screen and drop it to the cushion beside me, popping up and running over to Erin first.
“It’s not fucking fair! This whole system… this whole world is fucked!” she screams.
“Will you bitches shut up?!” Ashlei yells from inside the bathroom. “It’s impossible for a girl to poop with all this racket going on!”
Skyler gives me a look that says she’s got Cassie, so I grab Erin’s hand and lead her to the edge of the balcony, letting the fresh sea breeze calm us both. I don’t say anything, just hold her there and smooth my hand over her arm, letting her take a moment for whatever it is that’s going on.
She opens her mouth to say something when my ringtone sounds from the chair I was sitting on, and Erin and I both look at the screen, stilling at the sight of Jarrett’s name in bold above the new message.
My chest caves in on itself, and I close my eyes for a long moment before I open them to find Erin staring back at me.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice just a whisper.
Before I can answer, Ashlei clears her throat from where she’s now standing in the middle of the balcony between us all. Her hair is a mess tied loosely on top of her head, her arm still slung up from the accident, and her face is ghostly pale.
She doesn’t say a word.
But when I spot what she’s holding in her hand, she doesn’t have to.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I exhale, stomach roiling for a whole new reason. Skyler is the first to say what I know we’re all thinking.
“Oh, shit.”
And Ashlei smiles, smiles so wide her eyes water in the process. She shakes her head, staring at the stick before finding my eyes first. Everything is silent somehow, the music from below muted, the ocean waves quiet, the universe balancing in the wake and waiting along with the rest of us.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispers.
And then she covers her mouth and cries.
Season and Series Finale
“PLEASE SAY SOMETHING.”
Cassie’s voice is weak, hoarse, pained as if she’s being tortured and I’m the one holding the whip.
All I can do is stare at the string of Christmas lights hanging above me in the Alpha Sigma courtyard, somehow immune to how freezing it is, and unable to hear the party raging inside. With finals next week, the brothers are letting loose and trying to have a little fun before they’re chained to their textbooks.
I imagined this call so differently.
I’ve been anxious to talk to Cassie since Thanksgiving, since I hit it out of the park meeting Chandler’s grandparents. Mr. Simmons was in a fraternity, too, when he was younger, and we bonded over our love of brotherhood. He had also been raised by his grandfather, so sharing stories about the lessons we learned and how we grew up only strengthened our easy friendship. Pair that with the fact that his wife, Mrs. Simmons, thought I was absolutely adorable and nearly fainted when I helped her clean up the kitchen and washed every dish instead of joining the other guys in the living room watching football?
It was a smash hit, a home run, an all-around win.
I had a job offer by the time we got on the plane to head home Sunday night.
I’d tried to call Cassie then, eager to share the news, but her service had been shoddy at the resort and I wasn’t surprised when the call didn’t go through. She was exhausted after her flight home yesterday, so our call had been short and sweet, and I told her I got the job with all the intention of filling her in on every single detail today.
This call was supposed to be excitement and celebration. It was supposed to be let’s shop for an apartment and oh, my God, we’re going to live together. It was supposed to be our Thanksgiving sacrifice paying off, and a new date marked on the calendar for when we’d be together again, and a moving truck rental and…
It was just supposed to be so happy.
Instead, it’s a heavy, hard fist to the gut.
“Adam, please,” she begs again when I don’t answer.
My heart is in my throat, chest so tight there’s little room for the breaths I’m trying to force. “I don’t know what to say.”
She whimpers, and we don’t have to be on video chat for me to know how she looks right now, to know that beautiful face is blotchy and red and tear-stained.
It’s sick that I want to hold her, to comfort her, when she’s the one breaking me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, a broken record at this point. “I… I was drunk, and upset, and stupid and I—”
“Didn’t listen to me,” I finish for her.
“What?”
“You didn’t listen to me. Or, at least, if you did, you clearly didn’t hear me when I said I was doing this for us. I gave up seeing you for the holiday so that I could find a way
for us to be in the same city. Together. For us to move in together. For us to…”
I can’t finish the sentence, tears stinging my eyes, nose flaring as I shake them off.
“But you didn’t call me,” she says through her tears. “We barely texted. This whole semester has felt like… like… like we aren’t even a couple.”
“We’ve had dates almost every weekend,” I argue. “We talk all the time.”
“It’s not the same. It’s not enough.”
“I know!” I scream. “Which is exactly why I flew to fucking Baltimore to get a job near your future school. So we could be together. So we wouldn’t have to do this anymore. And you…”
Again, my words are cut short, throat constricting with the effort to say them. I’m so sick I have to stand and pace for fear of actually vomiting.
Cassie is silent.
The longer she is, the more my mind races, the more I think about how many times I had the opportunity to do the same to her, but never would have even considered it.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of kissing another woman.
And the thought of her kissing another man…
I close my eyes, jaw popping, chest tight with a mixture of rage and the fiercest despair I’ve ever known.
“How could you do this, Cassie?” I ask, voice just above a whisper. “How could you so much as look at another man that way, let alone act on it?”
“It meant nothing. I was drunk, I don’t even remember what he looks like, I—”
“Well, that makes it better, doesn’t it? That just makes it all forgivable. I guess if I got get rip-roaring drunk tonight, I can kiss whoever I want and it’s fine, right?”
Her silence is answer enough for me.
“Tell me what you would do, if it were you,” I say. “If you were on this end of the call, and I told you I got drunk and kissed another woman. What would you feel?”
She sniffs. “You can’t possibly hate me as much as I hate myself right now.”
I let out a long exhale.
“Adam, I love you,” Cassie whispers. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I swear, it will never happen again. It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. Please,” she begs. “Please forgive me.”
Greek: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 7) Page 24