Hazed (Palm South University)

And to her credit, she really is trying.

So much so that Clayton moved out of Mac’s house and in with Mom in her new two-bedroom apartment.

It scared me at first, when they told me the news, but it helped that at least I was there to help them both move in and get settled. I even took Mom to the Goodwill to get furniture and things they needed. Clayton seemed excited to have his own place again. Even though Mac’s family had been amazing, I knew it gave him a sense of independence to not have to depend on them anymore.

Still, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison assured me they would still be there, checking in, making sure all was well. And it makes me feel better to know I’ve got eyes in town even when I’m not there.

And the timing of it all couldn’t be better.

It’s my last semester at PSU, my last semester as a brother, my last semester of college, period.

This is it.

Just a handful of months filled with classes and partying in equal measure stand between me and graduation.

I have no idea what comes next for me. I feel confident in my skills as a graphic designer at this point, but the question isn’t what I’ll do.

It’s where I’ll do it.

There’s a huge part of me that yearns to go back to Pittsburgh, even though I used to swear to myself that I never would. Now that my family is there, mending our past, my thought have shifted and I realize that I want to be there with them.

Pittsburgh is a cool city.

There are plenty of jobs available.

I know Pennsylvania. I miss the cold. I miss seasons, having a fall and winter and spring instead of one perpetual summer with a dash of chill now and then.

And still, there’s something holding me here, something that says my time in South Florida isn’t over, something that makes my gut churn with a silent whisper of you can’t leave, not yet.

I feel tethered to this place.

I just haven’t quite figured out why.

A loud ruckus down the hall breaks me out of my daydream, and I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my head before I hop up and check my reflection in the mirror. I look like a man who just got properly sucked off, and if anything, I kind of like the look more than when I first got ready for tonight.

I don’t even bother to change into jeans again, just give myself a swig of mouthwash and then I’m out the door. All the what comes next shit running through my head can wait.

Kailey’s right. There is a party going on.

Time to do it up Clinton Fucking Pennington style.

For one last semester.

JUST REMIND ME ONE more time that I have nothing to worry about.

I smile a little at the text from Kade, but can’t ignore the way my stomach somersaults, too.

You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be in your bed in just a few hours.

The little dots bounce on the screen as I check my reflection one last time in the bar bathroom.

I’ll keep it warm until then.

With another smile, I tuck my phone away, stilling a breath before I make my way out of the bathroom.

This little beach bar hasn’t changed much since the first time I graced its presence. I still remember that night like it was yesterday, strolling in here looking for a little escape from recruitment. I thought I’d find a good fruity cocktail and a guy to fawn over me all night before I had to go back to a house full of screaming sisters.

Instead, I found Jarrett.

A shiver races up my spine at the memory of him behind the bar, the wicked smile he gave me, the confidence, the unforgettable first time of him touching me in his truck in the parking lot.

That memory seems to grow three heads and a dozen eyeballs when I round the corner out of the bathroom hallway and spot Jarrett coming in from outside.

It’s chilly tonight, a rare and blessed event in South Florida, so the beach bar that’s normally all open and airy has plastic awnings pulled down to keep out the cold as best they can. Jarrett is bundled up in a brown leather jacket and dark distressed jeans. All his tattoos are covered, along with his bald head, thanks to a Patagonia beanie. I can tell the time he’s spent in Manhattan has given him more fashion sense just by the outfit and designer boots he’s paired with it.

He’s my Jarrett, the same one who stole my heart with just one look.

And yet, he’s a complete stranger, someone I don’t know at all.

His smile is weak when his eyes meet mine, and he makes his way toward me with his hands in the pocket of his jacket.