Page 28 of Palm South University: Season 3
Okay, that might be a little dramatic, but it’s definitely in the top five. Here I am, dressed in my favorite green dress just like I imagined, except there won’t be any hands sliding it off me tonight. My hair is pulled into an elegant up-do, a few tendrils hanging to frame my face, which is absolutely flawless after an hour of makeup application, and I borrowed Erin’s beautiful nude heels that wrap at the ankle with a ribbon. But none of it matters.
Because Grayson bailed.
He was sweet about it, of course, and regretful. His agent booked him a last-minute show and he couldn’t turn it down. He promised he’d make it up to me and told me there’d be a ticket at the door with my name on it if I wanted to show up, but I politely declined. I tried to hide my disappointment, but I know he saw right through me.
And the bigger part of me hoped he did.
But now I’m all dressed up with nothing to do, salivating for a delicious steak I won’t get to eat, and yearning to be held on the beach by my boyfriend who is across town on a stage singing to a group of swooning girls, instead.
Sighing, I pull my phone from my clutch, thumbing through the contacts to find Skyler’s name. I know she’ll know exactly what to say to make me feel better, but for some reason I can’t get my thumb to drop the last inch to dial her number. I don’t even want to talk to anyone, I just want to be miserable.
Pity party, table for one.
So, I let my feet carry me, the adorable heels feeling more and more like medieval torture devices with every step as I meander aimlessly around campus with my mind on Grayson. I wonder if this is really our new normal, if this is how it’s going to be now — cancelled plans and IOUs.
My stomach growls as I pass the food court, so I head for my favorite pizza place, the bell above the door announcing my arrival with a sad ding. Pie Heaven sells pizza slices the size of your face, and that’s exactly the kind of cure I need right now.
“Two Hawaiians,” I say when I reach the counter, knowing full well there’s absolutely zero chance of me finishing two slices but ready to give it the college try, anyway. “And a garlic knot. And a large Coke.”
The girl behind the counter lifts one eyebrow at me, looking behind me like I brought a friend.
“Nope, no one else, honey. It’s just me and a testy appetite, so stop judging and tell me what I owe you.”
A laugh breaks loose at a booth to my right and I snap my head to the source of it, heart stopping when I find Adam staring back at me.
“Easy, killer,” he says, lifting himself from the booth and pulling his wallet from his pocket. He slides the cashier his card, eyeing me with amusement as she runs it through the machine. “You and that testy appetite of yours want some company?”
I try to glare at him, but a smile breaks loose and I flop into the booth dramatically. He chuckles, bringing the tray with my pizza and drink over to the table before sliding in on the other side.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, pushing the parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes toward me.
I shake fresh parmesan on my first slice and shrug, keeping my eyes on the pizza. “Grayson and I were supposed to go on a date tonight but he bailed last minute. It’s fine,” I say quickly, feeling a little bad talking about Grayson to Adam. Even if I am upset, I already know how Adam feels about Grayson. “He apologized and he’s going to make it up to me, but I’m just a little bummed.”
“That’s understandable,” he says, the weight of his eyes still on me as I take my first bite. “But sometimes things come up. I’m sure he’s just as sad as you are that he had to cancel.”
I pause mid-bite, glancing up at Adam.There has to be a hint of sarcasm there somewhere, I think, but find no traces when I search his eyes. He seems genuine, and for some reason that brings the dead butterflies in the pit of my stomach back to life.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, his voice softer.
I swallow, cheeks flushing as I reach for my drink.
“Thank you, Adam.”
He smiles, finishing off his own pizza before changing the subject. He asks me how my classes are going and tells me all about the concert aftermath and his time as president so far. I fill him in on the dodgeball tournament prep and he tells me about the summer spent with his aunt, the one whom he lived with after his grandpa passed away. After an hour passes, the sadness I felt from Grayson cancelling is like a dull ache in the back of my mind. After two, it’s gone completely, and I’m laughing and eating too much instead of feeling sorry for myself.
“I was thinking about going back to the A Sig house and putting on a movie,” Adam says when the same cashier who rang us up starts wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. It’s almost eleven. “You’re more than welcome to join, if you want to.”
His eyes are hopeful as he waits for my response, and a wave rushes through me at the thought of spending more time with him. We always have so much fun, but a bigger part of me knows it’s the feeling I have when I’m with him that I want to hold onto. I should feel guilty for wanting it at all, but I don’t.
Still, I have a head on my shoulders, and I know when to walk away from trouble.
“I think I should probably get back to the house,” I say, gathering our empty plates onto one tray. “I have class pretty early.”
Adam smiles, shrugging it off. “No biggie. Maybe another time.”
We clean up our table and Adam waves to a guy back in the kitchen before holding the door open for me, the bell sounding a little less sad this time as I step into the warm summer night.
Adam walks me to the Kappa Kappa Beta house, carrying the conversation easily until we reach the front steps. I turn to face him, folding my arms over my chest as he slides his hands easily into his pockets with his eyes on mine. It’s quiet on campus now, only a few other students still out, the soft rush of water from the fountain filling most of the silence.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say softly.
He watches me for a moment longer, and instead of responding, he untucks his hands from his pockets and reaches for me, pulling me into his chest.
I hate this feeling.
It’s the feeling reserved for Adam, the one only he can elicit from me. He owns it. No one else has ever made my body react the way it does when we’re in situations like this, his arms around me, my head on his chest, boundaries between us that feel invisible and like barbed wire all at once. He looks at me, my stomach tightens. He holds me, my chest aches. He lets me go, whispering a goodnight before turning to walk away, and everything I’ve ever known about how to breathe disappears.
I hate this feeling.
I hope it never goes away.