Page 3 of Palm South University: Season 2

I quickly pay for my order and rejoin the girls at the table.

“So, Skyler became famous over break, Jess watched a lot of porn, Bo ate shit trying to figure out how to ski and I suffered through a stomach flu in Europe, which wasn’t half as bad as suffering through my mother when I got back home,” Erin summarizes, lazily dunking the tea bag in her large beige coffee cup. “Ashlei, Cassie, you’re the only ones left. What’d you do over break?”

Ashlei’s chewing her straw, avoiding all eye contact. She looks tired, and I notice dark circles under her eyes that weren’t there before break. I’m not that close with Ashlei, but even I know there’s something she’s not telling us.

“I just worked.”

“Worked?” Jess asks, pausing with her cup halfway lifted to her mouth. “What are you talking about? You don’t have a job.”

“Well I had one over break,” Ashlei spits back. She’s definitely sassy today.

“Doing what?” Jess challenges.

“Bartending.”

“Bartending,” Jess repeats flatly.

“Well, I swore off boys forever,” I chime in, trying to take the heat off Ashlei. She gives me athank yousmile, but Jess is still eying her. “Or at least, for the rest of freshman year.”

“I like that idea,” Erin says with a smile. “Maybe I’ll join you in that initiative, G-Little.”

“Speaking of boys, how weird is it that I have a boyfriend?” Skyler asks, sucking the last of her iced coffee drink dry and shaking the ice in her cup.

“Super fucking weird,” Jess replies quickly. Skyler laughs. My stomach turns.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies.” I hear the voice and I don’t even have to turn around to know who’s standing behind me again, especially when every jaw at the table drops. “I just had to come over because, well, because your friend here has completely shattered my confidence.”

I turn slowly, my eyes trailing up his god-like body until I meet his own blue pools. He bends down on one knee, bringing us face to face.

“You see, I didn’t actually get that coffee for free, I bought it when I saw you walk through that door over there.” He points, but no one’s eyes move from his face. Rubbing his hand over his beard, he shrugs. “I had no idea what kind of coffee you drank, but I figured it didn’t matter — I just wanted to talk to you.” Someone sighs. My money’s on Erin. “But then you totally shot me down, and at first I was going to let it go, but my mom raised me to always go after what I want and never stop fighting for it. And what I want right now is your phone number.”

This is not happening.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he holds it out for me to take, his eyes still fixed on mine. “Well, your phone number and your name.”

“Her name is Cassie,” Skyler says quickly and he chuckles, that same smooth sound giving me chills.

“Cassie,” he tries it on, testing how it feels on his lips. “What do you say? Make my mom proud and give me your number?”

“Oh my God, give me,” Erin says, snatching his phone from his hands. She types out what I can only assume is my number and hands it back to him. “Thank me later, baby G.”

I try not to laugh, but fail miserably. He smiles in triumph.

“Well, I guess you can live to be a momma’s boy another day…” I trail off, waiting for him to tell me his name.

“Grayson,” he says, holding the hand sans-phone out to me. My eyes trail the tattoos. “Grayson Anderson.”

Yep, even his name is one of a god.

“Cassie McBee,” I reply, tentatively taking his hand. He lifts it to his bearded mouth and kisses it softly.

I’mreallytrying not to swoon, I swear.

“See you around, Cassie McBee.” He stands with a wink and a half-wave to the rest of the girls before making his way back to the stage. I stare long enough to watch him strap on his guitar before turning back around.

And everyone is staring at me with a shit-eating grin.

“I hate you all.”

“I’m sorry,” Jess offers through a laugh, throwing her hands up. “The no-boy rule doesn’t apply to boys likethat.”

“Neither does the three-dates-before-he-scores rule,” my Big adds.

“Little!” Erin chastises Skyler, but we all laugh regardless.

My eyes find Grayson across the room just as he begins strumming out a soft acoustic tune. He smiles, one strand of his hair falling from the bun he’s haphazardly tied at the back of his head. Each strum of the guitar calls attention to the muscles in his arms and I allow myself to stare for just a moment longer before snapping my attention back to the girls.

They’re all staring, too.

Well, so much for that plan.