Page 5 of Palm South University: Season 3

I groan. “I can’t. Recruitment, remember? I actually snuck out to be here…” I check the time on my phone. One missed text from Erin, soon to be five, I imagine. “I should probably get back.”

Grayson pouts, but he doesn’t get to throw much of a fit before they’re announcing him back up on the stage.

“What about Sunday, then? I’m playing at this swanky new restaurant downtown and I want you there as my date.”

I bite my lip, debating my options. Bid Day is Saturday, but there are usually Sunday Funday celebrations at all the houses the day after, too.

“Please?” Grayson adds, pulling me closer. “I need you there.”

Smiling, I run my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck with a nod. I’m sure Erin will have something to say about me not being present, but she’ll get over it. I’ve been in her captivity for over two weeks now.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiles, leaning in to kiss me once more before pulling me up to stand with him. “Have fun pillow fighting or making necklaces or whatever it is they have you doing over there.”

I smack his arm and he sneaks in another peck on my nose, adjusting his hair in the messy tie he has it in as he jogs toward the stage. Allowing myself one last minute of gawking at him as he straps on his guitar, I debate staying a little longer. That is, until a string of three texts come in from Erin all at once.

Sighing, I give Grayson one last longing look before taking my coffee to go for the walk back to the house.

“There you are,” Erin says as soon as I walk through the door, her voice tight with annoyance.

Sisters are running all over the place, some of them balancing protein bars in one hand and bios in the other. Just because the potential new members are done for the day doesn’t mean we’re even close, and that fact is cemented when Erin thrusts a thick packet into my chest.

“I need you to run this down to the Alpha Sig house and get it to Adam. Then come right back because we’re doing dress check for tomorrow and I’ll need you to help me fix the sisters who apparently don’t understand whatcerulean bluemeans.”

She rolls her eyes, tucking a misplaced blonde strand of hair behind her ear before checking two items off the list on her clipboard.

All I can do is stand there and gape at her.

“Why are you still standing here?” she snaps, then she closes her eyes and forces a breath. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound as bitchy as it did. I’m just stressed. You okay?”

I nod, forcing the swallow I couldn’t seem to get a grip on before. “Yeah, I just… is there anyone else who could maybe run this down to Alpha Sig? I was actually hoping to take a shower before—”

I don’t even get the rest of my pathetic excuse out before Erin cuts me off.

“I need you to do this, G-Little. Please. I’ve already got Jess, Lei, and your Big off doing other pertinent things and honestly I’m too exhausted to even try to find someone else I trust enough to deliver that packet without somehow getting lost at one of the campus bars.” She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes again. “Please?”

I clear my throat, holding the packet up with a forced smile. “Of course, it’s no problem. Be right back.”

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my arm before jetting off toward the kitchen, yelling out demands at every sister she passes along the way.

The walk to the Alpha Sigma house is short, but I feel every step like an agonizing hour at the gym. I haven’t seen Adam since the dance last semester, the dance where I walked out on him, where I chose Grayson. Just thinking about that night, about the look on his face right before he walked out that door — it sucker-punches me right square in the gut.

“Just because the timing isn’t right for us now doesn’t mean it never will be.”

I shake the memory from my head as I turn, walking up the drive to the large, wooden door with his letters proudly displayed on the front. Taking one last shaky breath, I walk through the door.

Had this been last year, I likely would have knocked. But I’m not a freshman anymore, and I know well enough now that you don’t knock when you go to a fraternity house. I don’t even stop to say hi to the guys playing foosball in the living room, just walk straight toward the back hall. Adam will be in the president’s suite now, and I’m going to drop this stupid packet on his bed and leave. That’s it. The end.

Except as soon as I round the corner leading to the hall, my plan goes up in flames.

Adam is walking toward me, head down as he uses a small towel to dry his hair, wearing only a slightly larger towel tied low around his hips. I freeze, breath catching as I watch the water droplets fall from his shoulders to his chest to his abdomen, all the way down to the hem of the towel. When he’s less than ten feet in front of me he looks up, eyes widening at the sight of me.

And then he freezes, too.

“Cassie?” he asks, tossing the small towel over his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

My eyes are still glued to his chest, to the new muscles stretching over his ribs and abdomen. He’s filled out over the summer. His hair is a little longer, his arms a little bulkier, and his skin just as dark as the day we came back from spring break.

I have no clue how long I stare, but it’s long enough for him to follow my gaze down to his chest, which immediately makes me flush and squeeze my eyes closed tight. I thrust the packet out toward his chest that I can’t stop looking at and turn, practically sprinting for the door.

“Hey, wait,” Adam calls out behind me, but I just throw an awkward wave over my shoulder and plow through the front door and out into the humid August air.

I inhale a deep breath, shaking my head and burying my face in my hands.

God, what was that?

I’ve seen Adam shirtless before — plenty of times, actually. So then why did I just act like a sixteen-year-old virgin seeing her first boy sans clothing? All summer I’d been hoping Adam and I could be friends again this semester, get rid of all the tension between us and go back to how we were before. Zero awkwardness, that’s what I was aiming for.

My arrow didn’t even hit the target, let alone the bullseye.