Page 86 of Palm South University: Season 3

“Ugh, I wish. That girl cannot take a hint. If only she was as bright as that neon pink hair of hers.”

Malik chuckles. “Hey, at least she gives good head. You going to miss that?”

My stomach lurches as Grayson grins, taking a hit from the joint and passing it back. “Nah. Surprisingly, Cassie is pretty hot in bed.”

“Now that she’s actually fucking you, that is. Think she’ll ever find out about the groupie?”

“No way. She knows I love her. Alexis was just a stress relief until Cassie was ready. Had to get it from somewhere, you know?” he jokes, and Malik grins with approval. “Once Cassie let me hit, I stopped texting Alexis altogether.”

“Wow, what a great boyfriend,” I spit, rounding the bushes until Malik can see me. His eyes widen and Grayson turns, all the color draining from his face when he sees me, too. “To give up your hook ups with a groupie once you got in my pants. So charming.”

My voice is just as shaky as my hands and I hate it, rolling them into fists as I try to stand tall, trying to control the racing of my heart long enough to put Grayson in his place. I ran from the last guy who fucked me over, letting him make a fool of me.

Not this time.

“Cassie, I don’t know what you heard but—”

“Don’t touch me,” I seethe, cutting Grayson off mid-sentence as his hands reach out for me. “You’ll never touch me again. I hope she was worth it.”

“Come on—”

“No!” I shake my head, eyes bouncing between Grayson’s like I’ve never seen him before in my life, like he’s a stranger who somehow has the power to break my heart. “No, I’m not listening to another word. And you asked me to give up my friendship with Adam because — what —yourconscience wouldn’t let you sleep at night?”

Grayson swallows, joint still burning in his hand as he pleads with his eyes for me to see him, to want him, to listen to him — but I do none of the above.

“Is she why you were late to the Alpha Sigma concert?” I shake my head, the need to cry burning at the back of my throat and eyes but I refuse to give in. “Is she why you cancelled our date that night?”

He swallows, lips in a flat line and face ashen, which is all the answer I need.

I choke, almost breaking down before shaking it off. “I knew you were a performer,” I say, holding my chin up. “But had I known you were playing me like your fucking guitar, I would have stopped buying tickets to the shows a long time ago.”

“Cassie, just please—”

“Go fuck yourself, Grayson.”

I turn without another look in his direction, not stopping when he calls my name or sprints after me. I snatch my clutch off the table, fighting back tears as Ashlei and Jess swarm me, asking what’s wrong. Skyler is there next, pushing Grayson away as he tries to break through the crowd to get to me.

“I just want to leave,” I choke out, trying so hard not to cry I can’t breathe from holding the tears in.

“Let’s go.” Skyler grabs my hand, telling Clinton to call us a cab and meet on the curb outside. She holds me in her arms as we walk, not asking any questions, knowing I can’t talk in that moment.

It’s not when we make it outside that I let myself cry. It’s not in the cab ride home, or in Skyler’s arms as she hugs me tight at the house. No, it’s not until well after midnight, when I’ve finished telling her what happened and walked numbly up to my room, stripping out of my dress and removing my makeup before slipping into my sheets that I finally break down.

Because my sheets smell like him.

It’s like those sheets are covered in betrayal and lies and every breath is me suffocating in them, fighting for oxygen that doesn’t exist. I let the tears fall, choking on the toxic air and hugging my arms tight around my middle, as if they can somehow squeeze out the pain racking through me.

I loved him.

No, that’s a lie, because it implies past tense. Ilovehim — here and now, writhing in sheets that smell like him and replaying the words he said that broke my heart — I still love him. It’s the worst feeling, to love someone who has hurt you. But love isn’t a pencil mark. It can’t be erased so easily.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to erase it at all.

It’s with that aching thought that I cry myself into the worst sleep of my life.