Page 58 of Palm South University: Season 3

“You’re going to sleep with him.”

It’s not a question. I don’t want her to answer, but she does, anyway.

“He’s my boyfriend, Adam…”

I grit my teeth so hard a sharp pain rips through my jaw and I crush the empty cup in my hand, the broken edges of the plastic digging into my palm.

“Don’t,” I say, finally turning to face her. “Don’t leave with him, Cassie.”

Her bottom lip is pinned between her teeth and I use every ounce of willpower I have left to keep from pulling her into me and sucking that lip between mine, instead. She feels like mine, even when she’s not. And I don’t know how to make that go away. Or, if I even want to.

“How can you ask that of me?”

I push a heavy breath through my nose, pinching the bridge of it with a shake of my head. “I don’t know. I guess the real answer is that I can’t, not really, but I am anyway.”

“I think I love him,” she whispers, watching where she’s wringing her hands together before looking up at me through dark lashes.

I scrub a hand over my face, feeling so out of control I want to scream. It’s like being trapped in a slow-motion car crash with a broken seatbelt.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

She scoffs, dropping her hand to her thigh with a slap. “Unbelievable.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have to say a damn thing to that, Adam, because it doesn’t matter what you think about it. It’s how I feel. And, yes, I’m leaving with him tonight. That’s where your need to know ends.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” I spit, desperate, latching onto anything I think will make her stay, knowing nothing will.

“And you do?” she asks on a laugh. Stepping closer, she lowers her voice. “This isn’t your decision to make, Adam. You don’t own me.”

I press my lips into a hard line, and when she turns for the shore I involuntarily reach for her, just late enough to not even brush her skin before she’s too far gone. I watch her leave, watch her walk all the way up to the shore, to Grayson, who wraps her in his arms with a long kiss. His stare lands on me afterward, making sure I saw, and then he tucks her under his arm and steers her toward the boat loading up to leave.

And just before she steps on, Cassie looks back at me, and what I find in her eyes almost knocks me to my knees. Because it’s not love, or apology — but pity, and I feel it all the way to my core.

She knows it as well as I do.

It’sherwho owns me.

There are only five yachts left on the sandbar by the time midnight hits, and the captains we hired to drive tell us we have one hour left before they need to take us in. Not that I need another hour to get tanked, because I landed there roughly twenty minutes after Cassie was gone.

A little beer sloshes out of my cup and into the water below as I take a drink, elbows resting on the rail at the back of theGin and Jack-O-Lanternyacht. I watch the shore with heavy eyes, knowing she’s there somewhere, in bed with another man. I don’t want to torture myself, don’t want to be pathetic, but I’m powerless to change the way I feel — at least for the night.

So, I let it happen, let the longing fill me from the inside out, suffocating to the point of barely breathing.

Who needs air anyway, right?

“You’re looking very Hamlet for someone who just hosted the best party of the year.”

Skyler slides up next to me, stealing my beer from my hand and lifting it to her lips. My hand is still molded to the shape of the cup even though it’s gone now, and I hold it out over the rail, the shore lights blurring a bit as I turn to face her.

“Hi, stranger.”

She smiles. “Hi, yourself.”

Skyler and I broke up on civil terms last semester, even going so far as to fuck one last time before we called it quits. Still, we’ve barely spoken since, not even sharing more than a few “likes” on social media over the summer and no more than two words since school started back.

I can’t explain why, but breath comes a little easier with her beside me.

“You’re not a Fanta girl like the rest of your crew,” I observe, eyeing the red Spandex one-piece painted on her body.

“Baywatch,”she answers on a sigh. “Bear was supposed to be my David Hasselhoff, but he’s not talking to me as of twelve hours ago, so…”