Skyler
“These shoes are too much,” I argue with Ashlei, who just wrangled me into a dress and wedges for the first day of class. She’s dressed to the nines, of course, but she also has an internship downtown and a reason to be wearing stilettos.
I, however, do not find it at all necessary to wear shoes with a heel when I expect to walk at least a mile.
“Your legs look killer in those shoes paired with that dress,” she argues, touching up her lipstick. “Please? Just try it. For me.”
Turning in the mirror again, I can’t say that I disagree with her.
My legs are tan from all the paddle boarding time I got in over winter break, and the yellow dress with a simple sweetheart neckline she’s dressed me in looks perfect with the wedges.
I’m all legs and collarbone and toned arms, and my hair is down and softly curled.
Still, I feel a little overdressed.
“I’m just going to class.”
“Yes, but you never know who you might run into.”
A flash of the new guy I made out with at the Alpha Sigma house last night hits me, and I smile. Maybe I’ll run into him.
“Here,” Cassie says, popping up from her seat on Jess’s bed to hand me the one and only strand of pearls I own. “Add these. They’re the perfect accessory.”
I do as she says, but it just makes me scrunch my nose up more. “This feels like a lot.”
“They’re perfect!” Cassie argues, her red hair bobbing a little as she bounces with excitement.
“It’s syllabus week, it won’t be that long of a day anyway.” Ashlei pokes her bottom lip out as she tucks her lipstick back in her bag. “Pleeeease.”
I huff. “Fine. But next time I want a drink at Ralph’s at ten o’clock on an internship night, you both have to come.”
“Deal,” they agree in unison.
“Are you heading to your internship now?” I ask Ashlei, packing up my bag.
She shakes her head. “It’s a later report for me today, since I don’t have to do the orientation that all the new interns will have to do. I’m going to hang out with Erin for a bit and then I’ll head downtown.”
“I’ll probably come back to the house between classes, so I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Sounds good! See ya later, Legs,” she teases, swatting my ass as she skips out of mine and Jess’s room. My Little does the same thing, and I laugh, waving them both off before I make my way downstairs.
I’m running late as I hobble-speedwalk across campus to my first class — Writing for Television. Once again, I have an eclectic mix of classes this semester, my feeble attempt to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life after college.
If I’m being honest with myself, all I really thought about over break was the American Poker Club Tournament.
I officially announced my entrance, and even though I haven’t fully paid the fee to enter yet, the poker blogs and magazines are already eating it up.
I’ll be one of the few females in the tournament, and by far the youngest.
But for once — at least, for now — they’re all talking about how I’m one to beat, not just a hot girl who plays cards, but an actual contender.
It’s a step in the right direction, however small.
So, as much as I do want to figure out what my next steps are after college, all I’ve been able to think about is poker.
Well, at least, until the new transfer showed up.
I met Kip Jackson last night at fraternity rush, and about an hour after making fun of his glasses and his name, he was sucking tequila out of my belly button and licking lime juice from my lips.
I smile, biting my lower lip at the memory of that kiss.
I’m no stranger to the buzz of a first kiss, of a first night with a guy, but this was different — it was more.
The moment our lips met, I swear I felt a million bolts of electricity course through me in a smooth, vibrant wave.
I’m not even sure how long we made out before he pulled away, but I know it was long enough for me to decide he is absolutely my new target for this semester.
I’ll have Kip Jackson wrapped around my finger soon enough.
I ended up texting him late last night, thanks to Adam forking over his new pledge’s number, but we haven’t really talked since then. The ball is in his court. If he wants a date, he’ll ask for it.
He better.
I skip into class right after the professor, who tosses his belongings down on his desk and starts writing on the whiteboard.
Scanning the classroom, I try to find a place in the back, but sigh when I see all the seats are taken.
I’m used to taking classes with at least one sorority sister, having someone to walk into class with and sit with all semester, not to mention, a study buddy. But with this class, I’m on my own.
At least, that’s what I think — until I spot Kip a few rows back.
God, he’s even sexier than I remember. I decided after I met him that it’s not his hair, which is a soft, rugged blond styled messy and casual like I love. And I don’t think it’s necessarily his lean, toned arms or easy, confident smile that sets him apart, either.
No — it’s his eyes. Definitely his eyes.
They’re an electric blue, ocean-like just like mine, and they’re framed by black, plastic frames that make them impossible to ignore.
Except, he’s not wearing those glasses today.
Instead, those eyes stand out all on their own, twinkling under the fluorescent light as he watches me from his desk.
I glance at his full lips, that memory of them being pressed against my own sparking to life again. Smirking, I make my way up the steps and slide into the open seat next to him.
“Where’s mine?” I ask, eyeing the coffee cup at the corner of his desk.
He follows my gaze to the cup before giving me a smirk of his own. “Sorry, they didn’t have tequila. I checked.”
“Damn them,” I exasperate. “I need to run for Student Council so I can change that.”
I don’t have time to flirt as much as I’d like, but Kip is still smiling at me when the professor claps his hands together and starts in on his lecture.
I feel a little uneasy being in a classroom full of writers, almost like a poser in some way.
The first question Dr. O’Neal asks is, “Why do we write?” It only takes a couple of people being shot down with their attempts at responding to that question for me to know that I have no chance of offering any kind of worthy answer.
Kip watches me as I fidget with my pencil, silently begging the professor to move on from this and back to the syllabus. For some reason, I’m completely petrified that he’ll decide to call on someone from the class roster or just spot my discomfort and shine it under a spotlight.
It’s an unfounded anxiety, I realize, but I can’t quiet it.
Luckily, I don’t have to, because when Mr. Sexy Four Eyes opens his mouth to give his answer, I’m in a complete trance along with the rest of the class and the professor.
“I guess I can’t speak for everyone in here,” he starts, like he’s unsure, though everything about the way he’s sitting and speaking screams confidence.
His shoulders are back, head high, easy smile in place as he drapes one ankle over the opposite knee.
“But I write for a purpose — a purpose that changes each time. Sometimes it’s to evoke laughter, sometimes to make people think, sometimes to bring a feeling to life like romance or pain, and always — no matter what the topic — to entertain. ”
The professor smiles, pointing his marker at Kip with approval before he drones on about something else. I don’t even hear it, because I’m too busy staring at Kip’s mouth again.
“You kind of have this all figured out, don’t you?” I tease.
“I like to think I know what my passions are, yes,” he answers, his aqua eyes skirting to mine.
“Passion can be a dangerous thing.”
He smiles, turning his attention back to Dr. O’Neal. “What’s life without a little danger?”
And just like that, our little game of cat and mouse is back on.
***
After class, the professor asks Kip to stay back, so I wait for him outside of the Visual Arts Building. I can’t help myself — he’s just too delicious not to play with. When he emerges from the double doors, he grins at the sight of me, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hunter green shorts.
“You really are stalking me.”
I shrug, still leaning casually against the brick of the building. “You should be so lucky, Four Eyes. Speaking of which, where are your specks today?”
“Contacts,” he says. “I’m heading to the gym after my last class today, and they don’t fare well with sweat.”
The image of him sweating, the muscles in his arms bulging as he bench presses more than I weigh makes me chew my cheek.
How long until I can get him in bed with me?
“You’re weird,” I assess after a moment, because he is — he is truly a strange creature, one I’ve never experienced at Palm South University. Usually, the guys here fit easily into a box: Jock, Nerd, Frat Daddy, Rock Star Wannabe, Loser, etc. But Kip?
He doesn’t fit in. He stands out.
And he owns that shit like a boss.
“You like it,” he challenges, to which I just roll my eyes, turning on my heel for Greek Row.
“Skyler!” he calls out after me, and I smile, hiding it before I turn back to face him. “How do you take your coffee? For next week.”
“Trying to be a gentleman now?”
He shrugs, and even though it’s kind of a lame game to play, I can’t resist the chance to toy with him more.
“I only like one thing on the Starbucks menu. You seem to have everything else figured out, let’s see if you can guess what it is.”
I turn just as another smile threatens to break on my face, and he calls out behind me again.
“Will I see you before then?”
I only offer him a glance over my shoulder, batting my long lashes with a soft shrug.
Who knows, Kip Jackson — maybe you’ll see me before then, maybe you won’t.
I’m still floating on the Kip Cloud when I make it back to the sorority house, thankful I survived the trek in my wedges. But before I have the time to kick the God-forsaken shoes off my feet, Jess grabs my arm, dragging me through the house.
“Ex just texted us and said to meet in her room ASAP. Sounds important.”
“Crisis with Spring Break planning?”
Jess tries not to laugh, but fails. “I’m sure it’s something equally as serious, knowing your Big.”
I smile, grateful that I’m still at the point in my life where Spring Break is my biggest worry. At least, for now. It won’t be long before all I’ll be able to think about is the poker tournament, and how much is riding on it.
I love PSU, and I’m next in line to be president of Kappa Kappa Beta.
But in order for that to happen, I have to be able to stay at Palm South.
And in order for that to happen, I have to win this tournament.
No pressure.