Page 12 of Palm South University: Season 2

Making my way up the stairs, I type out a text to Jarrett asking him what he wants me to do to myself. The three little dots pop up letting me know he’s texting me back and my stomach tightens in anticipation. When I push through the bathroom door and find Erin with her head in the toilet, my excitement fades.

“Shit, Ex, what the hell?”

She heaves, but it doesn’t sound like much comes up. Cursing, I fall to the floor next to her and scoop her dark blonde hair up, fastening it at the top of her head with the spare hair tie on my wrist.

“You’re such a freshman right now.”

Erin groans, leaning back on her heels and lifting her eyes to mine. They’re red, rimmed with tears, and her entire face is a sheet white. “I’m so fucked, Jess. I’m so, so fucked.”

“What are you talking about?” I shake my head, ripping a few sheets of toilet paper off and offering them to her to clean her face. “You’re fine. Just drunk. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Jess, you don’t understand.”

I groan when I see the dirty text from Jarrett, telling me, inamazingdetail, what he wants me to do to myself. Then my phone pings again, and it’s a photo of Jarrett palming himself. His abs take up most of the picture, but just the sight of his hand wrapped around his thick cock makes me whimper. It’s clear he also snuck off to a bathroom, and all I want is to be bad with him.

But, sisters first.

Fuck me.

“I understand just fine. Do you not remember me on Spring Break last year?”

Erin huffs, grabbing my wrist with force. “Goddamnit, Jess, listen to me! I’m not drunk!”

“Clearly.”

She levels her eyes. “I’m serious. I haven’t had a single drink tonight… or this semester, period.” She stares at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to understand. When the little lightbulb finally flashes on, I gasp.

“Holy shit. Do you think you’re…”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my God, Ex, how?!”

She sighs. “I’ve been throwing up and my body just feels weird. I’m freaking out, Jess. What do I do?”

“Have you missed a period yet?”

“I was supposed to have it this week, but nothing.”

I curse, my hand flying to my forehead. No way. No fucking way is Erin Xander, the most angelic of all of us, pregnant. The girl doesn’t party as much as we do, she hasn’t had a boyfriend in I don’t even know how long, and she’s not exactly the hook-up kind of girl.

Actually, that’s a great fucking point.

“Erin, who… um,” I fade off, not sure how to phrase my question. “If there were, for argument’s sake, a little bundle of joy in your belly — who would be responsible?”

She bites her lip just as the door swings open. Clinton startles when he sees us just as Erin yells something about them needing a new lock on the damn door.

“Whoa. You two okay?” Clinton asks. I ignore him, turning my eyes back to Erin.

But her eyes are still fixed on his.

And she’s breathing really fucking hard.

When she looks at me once more, panic evident in her features, I know I don’t need to repeat my question.

Well, shit.

Spring semester is off to an interesting start.