Page 39 of Palm South University: Season 3

Would that be worse or better?

“They’ve got two minutes before time is called and we declare a tie,” Erin says, eyes on the game clock. “That would be super anti-climactic.”

Now we’re both stressed, and when the clock ticks down to one minute remaining, Erin jumps into action, calling out to the crowd in the bleachers.

“Cheer for your favorite team! We need a winner! Let’s count them down! Fifty-seven, fifty-six…”

She continues the chant, the rest of the crowd joining in, half of them screaming for Adam to throw his ball while the other half cheers Grayson’s name. The two of them just watch each other, murderous, waiting for the other to make a move while they plan their own.

When the crowd reaches twenty, everyone is on their feet, counting down the clock and screaming even louder for someone to make a move. Then, almost as if in slow motion, Grayson takes three long, fast strides toward Adam, winding up his arm and launching his last ball straight at Adam’s knees.

Adam jumps high into the air with a spiral kick, sending him up and over the ball, and when he lands on one foot his arm follows through like a sling shot, ball flying back toward Grayson before his other foot even hits the ground. It all happens so fast, I’m barely able to register the fact that he jumped over the ball, let alone that he sent his own back straight toward Grayson. Grayson’s eyes widen at the rebound, too, and though he tries to dodge it, the ball grazes his hip as he bends away from it.

And with nine seconds left, Adam’s team wins.

“FUCK!” Grayson roars, picking up the ball that hit him and launching it over the bleachers. No one notices but me, because everyone else is crowding the field to congratulate Adam’s team. Erin announces them the winner over the loudspeaker as music plays, the tournament officially over, and I slowly make my way toward Grayson.

He just stands there with his hands on his head, breaths heavy and lips in a flat line as he watches Adam’s team celebrate on the other side of the foul line. Malik, Steven, and the rest of the team clap him on the shoulder, dispersing after one of my sisters hands them their silver medals.

“Hey,” I say softly when I reach him. I leave my arms crossed over my middle, afraid to touch him yet. “You okay?”

“It’s bullshit,” Grayson spits, thrusting his hands toward the other team. “Adam was out like twice and the refs didn’t call it.”

I smile, stepping into him and threading my arms around his slick neck. “The controller buttons are broken,” I tease, but he pulls my arms off of him, still scowling.

“It’s not fair. It’s all rigged for the Greek system. No way would they let a bunch of GDIs win.”

GDIis code forGod Damned Independents,or non-Greeks. I didn’t know what it meant until Skyler explained it to me at Ralph’s once, and I’m surprised Grayson knows the term at all.

“I’m sorry, babe. Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

But before the words are even out of my mouth, Adam jogs over, hand outstretched toward Grayson.

“Hey, man,” he says, wide grin on his face. “Good game. Seriously. Your team was smart and it could have gone either way there at the end.”

Grayson eyes Adam’s hand, but doesn’t reach out to shake it.

Adam waits a moment before shrugging, letting his hand drop and turning to face me. My knees nearly buckle at his bright smile, the widest I’ve seen it all semester, pointed directly at me like a blinding pair of headlights. “So, where do you want to eat? Dinner with the winner, right?”

I roll my eyes at the tease, but when Grayson shoves Adam hard, stepping between the two of us, my hands fly to my mouth with a gasp.

“Back the fuck off, Brooks, before you get more than just a dodgeball to the face.”

Adam shoves him back. “Calm down, it was a fucking joke.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not laughing. No one is going to dinner with my girl but me.”

“That right?” Adam says, stepping forward until he’s chest to chest with Grayson. “Because if I recall correctly it was me who had dinner with her when you were too busy playing guitar for your little groupies to take her on a date.”

Grayson growls and shoves Adam again and I step between them, pushing my hands hard into each of their chests.

“STOP IT!”

They both pause, chests heaving against my hands, eyes hard on each other and noses flaring.

“It was just a joke,” I say to Grayson, who’s eyes widen as Adam snickers from the other end. I turn on him next. “And you already won, so how about you go gloat somewhere else and stop being an asshole.”

“I tried to shake his hand!” Adam defends.