Page 104 of Palm South University: Season 2
I CAN STILL FEEL THAT NIGHT.
If I close my eyes, like I am right now, I can go back there so easily, as if I never left. The sand between my toes, the damp ocean air in my hair, the hot night sticking to the skin of my thighs just below the hem of my dress. And if I run my fingertips across the same places he touched me in the sand under the stars, it’s like he’s still here. My thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel his teeth biting the same spot. My fingers slide shakily to grip the back of my neck and I feel his handprint, instead.
And when I open my eyes again, just before my vision clears, I swear I can still see his eyes.
“You okay, Little?” Skyler asks just as I pop my eyes open. Warm brown eyes flash in the mirror before being chased away by reality. “You have a headache or something? I think I might have some Advil.”
Skyler starts sifting through her clutch and I force a smile, shaking my head. “No, no, I’m fine, Big. Just a little sore from . . . yoga,” I lie.
“Well, at least the soreness paid off. You look amazing tonight.” She smiles before leaning forward in the bathroom mirror to fix her lipstick. I follow suit, smoothing my hands over the sleek black fabric of my dress. My arms are covered with thin lace that trails up to my shoulders before breaking into a conservative top. Everything is covered, the black framing and slimming me all the way down to the middle of my thigh where it breaks for one, long slit—just enough for my pale leg and strappy gold shoes to peek through. My normally frizzy, crazy red hair is tamed, softly curled, and falling lightly over one shoulder. Erin did my makeup, and whatever eyeshadow she used sets my emerald eyes ablaze against it. I feel beautiful, yet at the same time, inadequate.
Because I’m here alone.
Grayson should be here, waiting for me on the dance floor, tattoos covered by a tuxedo jacket. But he broke up with me, and I can’t even blame him for it. How do you stay with someone when they can’t deny they have feelings for someone else?
Skyler and I finish our touchups and rejoin our group in the ballroom. I thought the semi-formal venue was beautiful, but this? This is absolutely breathtaking. Our executive board rented out a private plantation, and the fact that this house used to entertain one family and their guests is mind blowing. It’s huge and regal, the grand architecture giving off a royal feel with just a hint of southern hospitality. The ballroom is fit for a princess or a wedding, which I imagine it’s probably played home to both at some point.
Skyler runs off to Erin as soon as we get back inside, who, surprisingly, is having more fun than any of us. She must have pre-gamed pretty hard on the bus because when she piled off it, her eyes were low, hair mussed, and she was clearly ready to party. She was the first on the dance floor and hasn’t left since. She may be a little tipsier than the rest of us but I don’t think anyone is even judging because she deserves this. It’s nice to see her smiling, dancing, letting go.
“Hi.” His voice is low, timid, hesitant. I consider ignoring him, since that tactic has been working in my favor all night so far, but with him so close, it’s nearly impossible now.
“Hi, Adam.” I keep my eyes on the dance floor, watching as Erin and Skyler captivate everyone around them.
“Need a drink?”
As much as I don’t want him to be the one to get me a drink, I really do need one right now, so I concede. “Sure.”
We walk in silence over to the bar and Adam slides up first, ordering us two Maker’s & Cokes. I almost open my mouth to argue with him, to ask him why he thinks I’d want to drink that, but the truth is whiskey is necessary to get through tonight. Apparently, he gets that. Besides, any words I had on my tongue disappeared when he looked back over his shoulder at me and crooked that signature smile of his. Adam in board shorts or a frat tank is one thing, but seeing him in a perfectly-fitting tux, complete with bowtie, makes my knees weak, no matter how loudly I yell at them to hold it together.
“Having fun?”
I clasp my hands together and stare down at my fingers, noting how the light reflects off the gold polish. “Mm hmm.”
He hands me my drink and I take it without looking up, sipping from the skinny black straw and letting the liquid burn, just like it did before Spring Break.
“Cassie . . .” he starts, but I cut him off.
“So who are you here with, anyway?” I ask, snapping my head up to look him in the eyes. His brow drops low as he swallows, shifting.
“No one.”
I scoff. “What do you mean, ‘no one’? You can’t just come to the Kappa Kappa Beta formal without someone inviting . . .” my words trail off as I note his nervous eyes watching those close enough to us to overhear. “Oh my God. Did you sneak into formal?”
He pauses, a guilty grin spreading on his lips. “Maybe.”
“Why? To try to get me to talk to you?”
“No,” he says quickly, but his eyes drop to his drink. “Yes. Well, kind of.” He blows out a long, slow breath before lifting his gaze to me once more. “I just had to apologize. I want you to know I’m sorry, for whatever that’s worth.”
“For?”
“For . . .” He clearly hasn’t thought that far. Maybe he didn’t think he’d get the chance to say he was sorry, and now that I let him get it out, he’s wondering what exactly he apologized for in the first place. “I don’t know, Cassie. I’m not sorry for kissing you,” he says the words easily, like they don’t rob my next breath. “I probably should be, but I’m not.”
“So then what are you apologizing for?” I ask again, softer this time.
“Hurting you. Confusing you. Making you cry.” He shrugs. “Should I go on? I’m sure you could help me build the list of things I should be sorry for.”
My brows pinch together as I study his face. I find nothing but sincerity. My eyes flick down to the water beading on the outside of my glass and I laugh a little before peeking up at him through my lashes. “I can’t believe you snuck into my formal.”