Black Number Four (4 page)

I didn’t expect to meet Skyler Thorne when I came to fraternity rush tonight, but damn did she show up. I’ve been talking and playing drinking games with Adam and some of the other brothers all night, but my eyes haven’t left hers for more than a few minutes at a time. Talk to Adam, look up and find her. Sink a shot in beer pong, look up and find her. Go piss, come back and look for her. It’s kind of sick, actually, but I’m not apologizing.

Skyler is unique looking. She’s lean, that much I could tell from meeting her the first time, but she’s also got muscle definition like she surfs or dances or something. Her blue eyes are large, almost too large, and they match the plump misfit that is her bottom lip. God, I loved pulling that lip between my teeth.

Simmer down, Jackson.

Getting involved with a girl is not part of my plan. Hell, I guess rushing technically wasn’t either but you only go to college once, right? I already had to stick it out for my first two years in a community college that can barely even be considered that to appease my father. And now that I have to be stuck in this tiny school in Florida so I can play his little game, I figure there’s no reason not to live it up while I’m here.

“You down for another round?” Kade asks. He accepted his bid for Alpha Sigma tonight, too. He’s a little more jock than the guys I used to hang out with back home, but he seems cool. And truth be told, it’s been a long time since I’ve hung out with guys who liked to do anything other than read or go to acoustic night at the coffee house. His brown hair is a little longer than mine and shaggy, and he has the surfer attitude down pat.

“Nah man,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I got stuck with an early class on Thursdays this semester. I should probably head out.” It’s only halfway lying, I really do have an early class tomorrow, but really I need to go over the email my dad sent about an hour ago. I heard my phone ping and knew it was him, but there was no way I was going to leave in the middle of that foosball game. Skyler had me completely entranced, fascinated by her smart mouth and surprising skills. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like maybe she was putting on a show. I’ve watched her all night, and I can see there’s something uncomfortable about this situation to her – being surrounded by people, by people fixated on reputation, specifically. It’s odd, but I see something behind her baby blue eyes that she’s not telling me.

Yet.

Kade shakes his head. “Better get that grandpa stuff out of your system now. Once pledging starts, you and I won’t be sleeping much.”

I laugh and nod in agreement. “I guess I should savor my z’s while I can still get them.” I slap his hand and say a quick goodbye to Adam before heading toward the door. I catch Skyler watching me leave, but she doesn’t move to say goodnight and I don’t walk toward her. As much as I want to ask her to leave with me, I can’t be focused on her right now when I’m here for another girl in a completely different way. One thing at a time – that needs to be my mantra.

Plus, even if I could take her home tonight, I wouldn’t treat her the way my body really wants me to. Being a writer has some side effects, like being more emotional than I care to admit and looking deeper into people than I should. I’m captivated by Skyler – she’s like the mysterious heroine and I the curious hero. I want to peek behind that mask and get to know Skyler, and not just in bed. Not yet, anyway.

I offer a small wave and she smiles in response before turning back to her sisters, but her eyes snap back to mine just as I slip out the door. Something tells me I’m not the only curious one.

The walk to my apartment isn’t too far from the Alpha Sig house, just across campus and down a block toward the Atlantic. It’s a little chilly tonight, but nothing compared to the weather back in Kansas. January meant wind, snow, and freezing temperatures there. But here in South Florida, it means sunshine, high sixties, and occasionally a day warm enough to catch girls lying by the campus pool. I’ve only been here a little over a week and already I’ve seen more bathing suits than I did the entire summer back home. Unless you had a friend with a swimming pool or were close enough to a lake, bikinis were pretty scarce.

When Dad told me he was sending me to Palm South, I picked the apartment complex closest to the water that I could actually afford. Dad gave me a pretty strict budget each month, but it’s my hope that I’ll be earning a little more on the side to help cover the costs of the fraternity and my social life. I only have a few years left before I have to grow up and do real shit and I’m stuck here whether I want to be or not. I’m going to make the most of it, and I’m certainly not wasting my time worrying about pinching my pennies.

Dad was never on board with me going to my dream school, UCLA, or with my choice in major, either. I can’t say I blame him – it’s not difficult to believe that a hard ass Army Major General would be less than excited about his only son going to college for screenwriting. But, when this half scheme plan of his bloomed in his head, he knew the only way to get me in on it was to promise to send me there if I pulled up my end of the deal. He’s my money source, the only way I could even afford to take classes at a private school like this one and definitely the only way I’ll be able to get through financially out at UCLA, so I have to play by his rules.

For now, anyway.

I can smell the ocean as I climb the stairs to my top floor apartment and unlock the door. It’s studio size, small and homey with large windows facing the water. I’m still a few blocks away from the actual beach, but I can see the ocean just over the trees and buildings separating us. I’ve barely unpacked, but my old movie posters have their places on the wall and my keyboard is set up at the foot of my bed. Other than the curtain I hung, nothing really separates any rooms other than the bathroom. The kitchen is the living room is the bedroom – everything connected. But, for me, it’s perfect.

I toss my keys down on the small table at the end of the loveseat and kick my shoes off, heading straight for my laptop. I pull it from under my bed and plop down, dialing my dad’s number as I wait for my Wi-Fi to kick in.

“It’s late, son,” he answers, his voice hard as usual. So much for a “hello”.

“It’s only midnight there, Dad. And I told you I’d be a little late tonight.”

“Midnight here is one in the morning there, Son. You need to keep your head focused, and staying out ‘til all hours of the night isn’t a great way to start.”

“Dad.” I sigh, typing in my email password. “It’s all good. Promise. The world isn’t ending.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Oliver Kip Jackson.”

I cover the phone with my hand and let out a frustrated growl. I hate when he uses my full name, not just because I’m not a fan of my first name but because it usually means that’s my last warning. It pisses me off that I’m twenty one and yet still somehow under his ruling thumb.

“Did you get the email I sent?” he asks, getting to business.

“Opening it now.”

“Good. Everything you need to know for now is in there. Her name, class schedule, social media info, and a few things I managed to dig up by reading some interviews online. She has a few hobbies that are similar to yours, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to casually run into her. And remember, you have a goal. Get her close, but don’t get caught up.”

“I know, Dad.” I let out an exhausted huff before clicking on his email and downloading the document attached. “She’s the best in the game. I need to find her weakness, figure out her bluffing face, uncover the secrets to all her wins. You know, super easy, not-creepy-at-all things.”

“I’m serious, Kip,” he says. “I know this doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me, but I need you to take this seriously if you want me to pay for that damn school in California. This was your end of the deal, remember? You beat her at the tournament this year or give her hell trying and at least get your name on the map and I’ll pay for the rest of your school and grad school, too – including moving you to New York after you finish at UCLA. But you have to hold up your end.”

I sigh. “I know. I do take this seriously, Dad, I do. I’m just a little tired tonight. I know what this means to you and I’m not going to let you down. I promise.”

“Good man,” he says.

The document finally downloads and I double click on it, pulling the file up to fill the screen. When a photo of a girl with long dark hair and large turquoise eyes pops up, my heart stops.

“Shit.”

“What?” Dad immediately asks.

No way. No fucking way is the girl I came here for the same girl I just made out with in a crowd of Greek students. No way did I just potentially fuck up the one thing I have to do to get to my dream school and enroll in the one program I’ve wanted to be in since I was twelve.

I scroll down a little farther and get the affirmation I was afraid of. Her name is centered under the photo and written in bold.

SKYLER THORNE
.

“What is it, Kip?” Dad asks again.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, scrolling down a little further to glance at the information Dad had gathered. “I just, I recognize her. I met her tonight.”

“You did? Where?”

Oh hell no, I am definitely not ready to tell him about pledging. “They had a game night in one of the resident halls for new transfers. She was there,” I lie.

“Did she notice you? Do you think she knows who you are?”

You mean did she have my tongue down her throat?

“I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he says confidently. “You’ll need to make a good first impression. You don’t want her to feel like it’s forced. She has to want you to be around, to want to let you in and tell you about her life.”

“I think I can handle making a good first impression,” I mumble, my head racing with the feel of her chest pressed against mine on the table at Alpha Sig.

“I think you can, too. Now, it’s time for me to turn in. You should do the same. Call me tomorrow when you’ve got everything squared away.”

I nod, my eyes still stuck on the screen. “Night, Dad.”

The phone falls from my hand and down onto the bed as I scroll farther. We have one class together – Thursdays at seven in the morning. Wonderful. So much for thinking I would have time to get my shit together before having to face her knowing she’s the one person standing between me and my future.

My phone pings and I glance down to see a three-o’-five number illuminating the screen. I slide my thumb across the number and a text replaces the Dead Poets Society background.

- Well, it looks like the tequila didn’t kill you. Still swearing it off forever? -

A smile breaks across my lips.

- Stalking me already? I don’t recall giving you my number. -

- I’m a resourceful girl. -

- I don’t doubt that. And yes, I’m still anti-tequila. You should feel lucky, I drank it just for you. -

I wait a few minutes, but no other text comes through. A large breath vibrates through my chest as I exhale, staring at Skyler’s photo on the screen. Of all the shitty situations I could have found myself in, this had to be it?

I had one mission – one stupid, minor agreement to attend my dream school. Get in with the up and coming young poker star and learn her tricks. Take my game to the next level. Get to the final table with her in Vegas and beat her. Make my name known. Win for my dad, for the dream he could never live, and for me – for my independence from him and my freedom to finally start living my own dream.

- I think it’s you who should feel lucky, Four Eyes. See you around. -

Fuck me. Lady Luck is definitely not on my side.

Sighing, I plug my phone in to the charger on my bedside table and stare at Skyler a few more moments before closing my laptop and tucking it in my messenger bag. I set the alarm on my phone for six and shut off the light, falling onto my back and tucking my hands under my head. Immediately, my thoughts wander to Skyler laying in this same position earlier. My cock hardens and I curse, adjusting myself and rolling over to face the window.

I can do this. I just met this girl, it’s not like I’ve been dating her for years or something. She has no ties to me and I have none to her. It’s simple. I get in with her, do what I have to do to figure out how to beat her in May, and then we go our separate ways. She’s damn sure not going to want to make out with me after she finds out I’m in the tournament. I’m not the kind of guy to lie and manipulate, but this is the one thing that stands between me and my dream, between me and the emancipation from all the shit that’s held me back until now. One tournament, one girl, one little game to be played and then I can move on and never look back.