Page 3 of Palm South University: Season 3

Tossing my long, freshly highlighted hair over my shoulder, I snag a dinner roll and take a large bite before saluting them and walking out the opposite door the other two had exited. I roll my eyes as soon as the door closes behind me, crossing through the sorority house and taking the stairs two at a time up to my room.

I hit the speed dial for Jarrett, switching my phone to speaker before dropping it to my bed and filtering through the clothing options in my closet. By the second ring, I’m stripped free of the tea-length dress I’d had on. By the fourth, my favorite pair of skin-tight jeans are hugging my hips. And by the time his voicemail picks up, my boobs are pushed up to the heavens and barely covered with a black crop top that criss-crosses over my cleavage.

Huffing, I end the call before the beep, stepping into a high pair of candy red pumps and checking my reflection in the mirror. I run my fingers through my hair, swiping my purse from where it hangs off my closet door and fishing through it for the lipstick that matches the shoes.

Rubbing my lips together with approval, I give myself one last look before adding my last accessory — a smile that screams trouble.

Jarrett is busy. I get it, really, I do. But he could at least call. He could at leasttext, especially considering we were supposed to be together today.

But if he wants to play hard to get with his attention and affection, I’m not afraid to step up to the table and play the game. I have tricks up my sleeve, ones he isn’t exactly oblivious to. Still, maybe he’s forgotten. Maybe he needs a reminder.

If he’s going to sleep on me, then I don’t really have much of a choice anymore.

Time to wake that motherfucker up.