Greek (Palm South University)

“Oh.” I hear the hesitancy in his voice, the questions he wants to ask but doesn’t dare — like if I was there with another guy, if I danced with another guy, if I kissed another guy, if I’m with another guy in any capacity.

It would kill him.

Just like the thought of him and Natalia has been killing me.

“So, Cassie did take a Little, huh? I bet you’re excited.”

“I am. She’s sweet.” I pause. “What do you want, Kip? Why did you call?”

He lets out another long, slow breath. “I called to tell you I’m sorry.”

My shoulders deflate at the words.

“But not like I did before.”

I sit up a little straighter in bed, pulling the sheets to my chest and waiting.

“Skyler, I hope you believed me when I said I never meant to hurt you, and that I was sorry that I did.” He sighs. “But… I didn’t fully hear you out. I was stubborn and didn’t want to believe I’d done anything wrong, because I’d been so far up my own ass that I didn’t stop to consider how my actions might be affecting other people around me. It’s a good excuse, right? To feel like you don’t have to apologize if you didn’t do it intentionally? But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”

I close my eyes against the tears building there.

“Not only was I wrong for not seeing your side, for not agreeing with you because you were right — if it were me in your shoes, I would have felt the same way. Hell, I would have been even angrier, I wouldn’t have been nearly as controlled as you.” He pauses. “And you were right about Natalia.”

My heart squeezes so painfully in my chest that I can’t help the choked sob that rips free from me. To see the picture of them together was enough pain to last me a lifetime, but if he’s called now to tell me they’re together, to tell me I was right about them…

I’ll fucking die.

I will die.

“The other night, we got together for a mini premiere night. It was for cast and crew to watch the series before it hits the small screen.”

I can already feel it, my body breaking down, because I know he’s about to tell me that something happened that made him realize his feelings for her.

Bile rises in my throat.

“The show is good, Sky,” he whispers. “It’s so fucking good.”

I want to tell him I’m proud of him, that I’m happy for him, but every word — every breath is lodged in my throat.

“We were on such a high afterward, and we decided to go out. We were at this rooftop club. The music was going, we were all dancing and drinking and…”

My stomach turns again, and I double over on myself, squeezing my eyes shut against the burning urge to cry. Images of Natalia dancing with him, her ass grinding against his crotch, his hands on her waist…

I want to beg him to stop. I want to beg him to hang up and cut me out of his life and just leave me to rot without him.

I can’t handle it.

I can’t take this pain.

“She said she needed air, needed a break, and asked me to go with her. We went to this little corner garden with benches and a fountain, and we were just sitting there, talking, looking out over the skyline.” He pauses. “And then… she kissed me.”

I can’t fight against it this time, the guttural cry that rips free from me, the tears that pour down, the ugly sobs that free themselves.

“Skyler, baby, don’t cry,” Kip pleads, and I swear he sounds like he’s in just as much pain as I am, like hearing me cry is a dagger to his chest.

I can’t even catch my breath long enough to tell him not to call me baby, not to coddle me as he breaks my heart.

“I saw it then,” he says. “I saw everything you’d been telling me, everything I’d been ignoring, everything I’d said was innocent even when I knew deep down that it was suspicious, that it was maybe a hair too much.”

“Kip, please,” I finally manage to beg. “Please, stop. I can’t breathe. I can’t…” My next sentence is robbed by another painful squeeze of my chest.

“I know. I’m so fucking sorry, Sky. I didn’t want to tell you, but I knew I had to. I wanted to be upfront and clear about everything. If I stand another chance at having you, at getting back into your heart, there can’t be any secrets between us.”

Those words make me pause, though my rib cage is still painfully tight around my lungs. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I should have listened to you. I should have respected you. I should have sat Natalia down and had a conversation with her about professionalism, about drawing a clear, dark boundary so she understood. More than anything, I should have been there to pick you up.” His voice catches. “I should have been there. And I’ll live every day of my life regretting that I wasn’t.”