Page 30 of Courting Clemson

It sounded like a platitude, but the live energy that zapped through my skin from the contact had me rethinking that in a second. And the sensation her little touch incited made me hunger for more. So much more.

The look on her face told me she felt it too.

Chapter Eight

Clemson

After I got Grace home and tucked in bed for the night, I hopped in the shower. Salt water and sand had my skin and hair in desperate need of attention, so I spent extra time deep conditioning the mass of blond waves. It would be so much easier to cut it all off with the amount of time I spent in pools, but I always wore it long and couldn’t imagine it any other way.

My mind would not give me a break. It was skipping from one thing to another, ramping up my anxiety worse than it had been in a while. I thought the day of sun and sand had set this shit free, but here I was.

I’d dealt with anxiety most of my life. All my sisters had similar diagnoses, too, and while some tips they’d learned over the years were helpful, I had to figure out my own way of dealing with the symptoms. Normally I had a pretty good lock on the runaway thoughts and emotions, but the events of the past week had me frazzled.

I knew nothing would be accomplished by crawling into bed and hiding under the covers, regardless of how badly I wanted to do just that.

My professors finally emailed me back, and things weren’t looking good. They must have met and discussed my situation, because the three email responses I received looked like carbon copies. There were a few details pertaining to my actual grades in the classes and if the courses were offered in the summer semester, but other than that, they all could’ve signed their names on the bottom of one of the messages, and it would’ve been the same.

And I was screwed no matter how the news came down. I had officially lost my scholarship and had no idea how I was going to pay for the upcoming semester and still afford to live. I needed a job, and fast. One that paid really well, preferably.

A crazy-sounding laugh bubbled up from my gut at the thought. It wasn’t like jobs were just falling from the sky and that my biggest dilemma would be picking the one that best suited me. We were in early summer, and jobs that opened up to students had been snatched up many months ago. I needed to find something off campus, and the whole idea was so daunting, I couldn’t spend more than a minute thinking about it before my mind derailed itself out of preservation.

Asking my parents for help was out of the question. For one thing, I really didn’t think they’d do it even if I got up the nerve to ask. Plus, that meant I’d have to explain how I’d epically failed at the one job I currently had, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I wasn’t the kind of girl that went down without a fight, and my dad was adamant about taking responsibility for one’s own actions.

Yeah, they’d never foot the bill for next semester while I earned my way off the academic probation list. No way in hell.

Two of my sisters were involved with very rich men. I had those options as an absolute last resort, but I’d rather work my ass off the rest of the summer and possibly into the fall semester to pay my own way than ask for a handout.

When I finally got out of the shower, my skin was as macerated as when I swam for hours. My fingertips were shriveled prunes, and my ten toes matched. I lathered on an extra-thick layer of moisturizer to give my body some relief from the abuse plus that of the sun I had soaked up that afternoon.

I decided while I smoothed the cream into my toned legs that tomorrow would be the first day of the job hunt. I didn’t care what I had to do. I just needed something that paid well.

Shit. Where do you even begin searching for a job? Online somewhere, I assumed, but any other job I’d ever had sort of fell into my lap. It couldn’t be too hard to figure out, though, right? People did it every day.

Sleep was not kind to me that night. Lots of tossing and turning. Every time I’d flip over in frustration, my brain would take off in another direction without me. Then another thirty minutes would pass before I could settle down long enough to drift off again. I woke up in the morning feeling more like I’d run a marathon than gotten a good night’s sleep.

Sitting in front of my laptop, I drank my morning protein shake at the breakfast bar. The house was still quiet as I searched every version of job openings that I could think of.

I’d never waited tables before, but I’d heard a lot of people talk about the incredible tips you could bring in. Especially at a posher restaurant. But it was doubtful they’d hire someone with no experience. I made a long list of places that were advertising the need for help and hit the town to find a damn job.

After filling out the fifth application at some shithole near the airport, I was thinking of giving up. I lacked experience at…well…everything, and that was usually the first question asked. The jobs I was qualified for—lifeguard, camp counselor, possibly cashier—paid minimum wage and rarely offered more than a part-time schedule. Things weren’t looking too hopeful.

By the time I walked into the fieldhouse on campus for team weight training, I was in a pretty low mood. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Charlie noticed I was in a weak state and pounced.

“Hey, Clemson, what’s going on? You don’t seem yourself today,” she said with a syrupy kind voice that made me want to gag.

The girl didn’t know me at all. How would she know what my regular mood looked like versus a foul one? And why would she want to engage if she recognized I wasn’t in the best headspace? Nothing about interacting with her made sense.

“Nah, I’m fine. Probably just tired from yesterday. Thanks for inviting me,” I said to change the topic a bit.

Instantly her concerned expression changed to a sly one. “Did you go home with that hottie, Luke?” She waggled her brows, and it was so ridiculous, I almost laughed in her face.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Mmm, too bad. I wouldn’t sleep on that one too long, you know?”

I tilted my head with confusion. “What do you mean?” Why the hell this woman couldn’t just talk like a normal person, I couldn’t figure out.

Impatiently, she glared at me like I was an idiot. “I mean, he’s a total catch if you can land him. Just look at him. And”—she leaned in like she was about to tell me a deep family secret—“Liam says he loaded.” She added that last fact triumphantly as though that was all that should really matter.

---