Chapter Twenty-eight
Brynn
After a long day of running back and forth, I get to Zeta house early so I can get ready upstairs with Addison.
I brought my own dress tonight, and my own heels. I knew the Zeta girls would be bringing it, so I made much more of an effort to look cute than I did when I thought I was coming over to do free physical labor.
When we are satisfied that we look “purchasable,” as Addison puts it, we head downstairs to get ready for the mocktail reception. Sloane said the girls would be listed in the booklet, but apparently it’s our job to mingle and generate interest during the reception as well.
I feel a bit like pretty cattle, particularly given the way some of the guys look at me when I’m walking around with Addison. I’m grateful she stays close to my side because even though we just met, we got along right away, and when I’m at a party, I like to stay with people I know.
I feel like I’m a temporary Zeta tonight, though. The guys from the top elite frat are here, which I guess shouldn’t be surprising. The Zetas are the top sorority, and if college television shows have taught me anything, it’s that the top guys and the top girls go to each other’s functions.
“It’s like a meat market in here. Jesus,” I murmur to Addison as we duck past a couple of bros talking to another Zeta.
“Yup,” she says, nodding knowingly. Then wrapping her arm around my shoulders and squeezing, she says, “And you’re our newest baby cow up for auction. Nothing sexier than fresh meat.”
I crack a smile. “Ew.”
Addison pulls out her phone to check the time. “We don’t have much time left before we need to get ready to strut our stuff. I’ll be right back, I need to grab something from the kitchen.”
The kitchen isn’t far, but I watch her disappear around the corner.
And it takes about three seconds for some guy behind me to grab my arm.
I turn, startled, and see some frat guy with casually disheveled brown hair and sleepy eyes smiling down at me. “Hey. You’re new, I haven’t seen you at Zeta before.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I flash him a mild smile. “I’m Brynn.”
“The singer, right?” he says, pointing to the closed booklet in his hand.
“For tonight, I suppose.”
“Nice.” He nods, letting me see him look me over. I’m about to look around for an excuse to get away when one finds me.
A strong arm settles around my shoulder and pulls me close, and I hear a familiar voice say, “What do you want to do for our date?”
I turn my head to look up at Ryan McDermott, Killian’s friend who gave me a ride from school the other day. I’m not sure if he’s a Blue Blood. I assumed he was when Killian told me he was picking me up, but since I haven’t seen him involved in any of the illegal escapades I’ve witnessed or taken part in with them, maybe he really is just a friend of Killian’s.
Ryan doesn’t seem like a Blue Blood to me. From what little I’ve seen of him, he seems to give off the impression of being your better-than-average, clean-cut all-American boy. We talked a bit in the car, and he told me he’s a California boy—though to be honest, he didn’t need to tell me. I can tell by looking at him.
He’s well-built, though, that’s for sure. His T-shirt fits snug over his well-worked biceps. He’s tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He doesn’t look like a guy who gets into fights, but he doesn’t look like a guy you’d want to fight, either.
And Sleepy Dude confirms that impression for me when he takes one look at Ryan’s arm wrapped possessively around me, nods, and turns to go find another girl to talk to.
Ryan drops his arm as soon as the guy’s gone.
“Thanks,” I say, flashing him a smile. “Guys are taking this auction way more seriously than I expected them to. You’d think they’re bidding on actual dates with me.”
“They are,” Ryan says, casually grabbing my wrist and leading me through the crowd until he finds a corner free of people. “Why the hell did you agree to this?”
My eyes widen. “I… I don’t know. I wanted to help. What do you mean, they are? Sloane said they’re not really dates.”
“The Zetas do a date auction every year. Not usually under these circumstances, obviously, but it’s a regular event on their social calendar.” He holds up his program bent so the page with all our pictures is facing out. “This is basically an advertisement of who’s available. Your picture on this page tells every guy looking to bag himself a Zeta that you are one, and you’re up for grabs.”
My jaw unhinges, and I can’t even find words.
“Don’t listen to Sloane,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s not going to like you.”
If he hit me with a feather, I’d fall over. “Why? Until this stupid event, I’ve never even met her.”
“There you are.”
I’m still too stunned to hide it, but when Addison stops in front of me, I look over at her. “Does Sloane not like me?”
“Oh. I…” She looks at Ryan uncertainly.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, shaking his head. “But you need to know not to listen to her. Anything she tries to rope you into, just assume she doesn’t have your best interest in mind.”
“Didn’t she tell you to bid on me tonight so I wouldn’t have to worry about other guys bidding on me anyway?”
“The opening bid doesn’t matter. I’m just kicking things off. And with the interest you’re getting, it’s going to be a bloodbath. Think of this auction as guys throwing their ceremonial hats in the ring.”
What?
I don’t know what to say. I feel like the rug has been pulled right out from under me.
“It doesn’t matter,” Addison says, shaking her head. “If things get too heated, I’ll jump out of line and bid on you myself. I won’t let you get roped into a date with any of these handsy pervs.”
I try to force a smile, but honestly, I feel sick to my stomach.
Not seeming to read the room, Vanessa rushes over to us with a bright smile. “Hey, babes!”
I bolster what’s left of the fake smile I gave Addison, but she doesn’t even notice. Her attention only brushed past us to land on Ryan.
“Is Dare here?” she asks him, bright-eyed and hopeful.
“No,” he says flatly.
Her smile dims slightly. “Is he—He’s coming, though, right?”
Sighing tiredly, he looks over at her. “Why would he come to this?”
Her smile droops even more. “Well… I told him I was going to be in the date auction tonight.”
“He doesn’t care.”
“He didn’t say he doesn’t care,” she snaps, and her smile turns into a scowl. “He didn’t say he wouldn’t come, either.”
“He probably thought you were smart enough to figure it out on your own. I’ll let him know he gave you too much credit.”
Vanessa crosses her arms, annoyed. “Why does everybody act like it’s so ridiculous that he could like me?”
“He has a goddamn girlfriend, Vanessa.”
“From high school! Who brings their high school girlfriend to college? Especially a guy like him. He should marry a Zeta like any self-respecting Blue—” She freezes, loses several shades of color in an instant, then turns and leaves without another word.
Addison watches her go, then she looks at me and sighs. “Most Zetas are great. And then there are the legacies,” she says, with a subtle nod in Vanessa’s direction.
“Her mom was a Zeta?”
Addison nods. “Her mom and dad met here freshman year and got married straight out of college. She’s determined to follow in their footsteps, but she got mesmerized by a pouty mouth and dark eyes and set her sights on the very wrong guy.”
Ryan shakes his head. “She has a better shot with Brynn.”
Addison smirks, but before she can comment, I spot Shelby Cunningham waving us over.
“Hey, I think we’re being called up,” I tell her, gesturing toward Shelby.
“Good luck husband shopping,” Ryan tells us.
Addison corrects him, gesturing to herself. “You mean wife shopping.”
His eyebrows rise and he points to his booklet. “This has a pink and blue border around your picture. You don’t go both ways?”
“Technically, but I’m more into women. They’re prettier, smarter, and less sociopathic in my experience.”
He smirks. “There goes my plan to buy you, I guess.”
“It’s for the best. I can’t marry a Ryan whose last name isn’t Gosling on account of the rest of them being straight trash.”
She startles a laugh out of him. “Without exception?”
“An absolute truth,” she verifies.
“How many Ryans have you met?” he asks, amused.
“Girls,” Shelby says, waving more dramatically. “Get your pretty little asses over here.”
I grab Addison’s hand. “Come on, you can insult Ryan more later. We’ve gotta be auctioned off right now.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disobedient chattel. I was raised better than this,” she murmurs playfully, allowing me to pull her along.
___
I try not to be nervous as I wait for my name to be called. I tell myself it’s absurd to be nervous about this, but then I peek out from behind the curtain and see chairs filled on either side of the room with a runway in the middle. Vanessa struts out there, smiling and flirting with the audience of mostly men.
And then there’s the fact that it is mostly men, so I start to worry about Addison getting bids she won’t hate. For all that Sloane talked about this like there was some level of inclusiveness what with including who we wanted bids from on the call sheet, I don’t see many women in the audience. This seems to be aimed pretty straightforwardly at men.
Unfortunately, we’re going alphabetically by last name and B comes way before M. B is also way at the front of the alphabet, and that means Vanessa is the only girl to walk out ahead of me.
Sloane calls out bids and encourages the guys to bid a little more, and finally, a guy in jeans and a blue button-down wins her for the bargain price of $65.
As an added way to raise funds—and make the girls feel good—they’re offering an up-sell to winning bidders. A Zeta who isn’t in the auction has a basket of single red roses for the men to buy and present their date with once they win her. Now that this guy bought one, I’m sure all the others will, too. They won’t want to look like cheap jerks in comparison.
I actually think the rose thing is pretty cute. I don’t expect to get one since my best-case scenario is not a real date, but I do love roses.
As soon as Vanessa’s date is announced as the winning bidder, he buys a rose, then stands and comes to the end of the stage area, presenting the rose to Vanessa. She takes it, grinning, and slides her arm through his before leaving with him.
Wait, leaving with him?
We’re leaving on these dates now?
I feel a surge of panic, but before I have a chance to ask, Shelby tells me, “You’re up,” and pushes open the curtain so I can walk out.
I am so not ready for this.
I try not to look like a deer in the headlights as she practically shoves me through the curtain, but that’s what I feel like.
I barely survived my public speaking class last year, and then I was only addressing a room of bored students, none of whom gave a single fuck about me or my topic.
There’s music playing and strategic lighting to give it a fashion show feel instead of a “human flesh market” vibe.
It still has that vibe to me, though, especially as soon as I stumble past the curtain opening and row upon row of men look my way.
If I ranked everything I would like to experience in life, this would almost certainly land in the bottom five.
But I’m here now, so I make myself smile, and I walk out like this isn’t a living nightmare. I do the walk just like we practiced last night before I left. A couple of the Zetas are pageant girls, so they coached us all on how to walk, how to pace ourselves, how to smile and present ourselves before making our way back.
I feel ridiculous, but I hope it doesn’t show.
“And for our second auction item, a date with the lovely Brynn Blakely. Brynn is a biology major and our newest Zeta sister, so you can expect stimulating conversation and extra stimulating alone time.”
Wait, what?
What to literally all of that?
I look back at Sloane, but she just flashes me an encouraging smile and winks. “Brynn also has the voice of an angel, and she can’t wait to sing for one of you lucky boys tonight.”
That gets a horrifying “whoo” from the back of the room, and I nearly burst into flames of utter humiliation on the spot.
“Let’s start the bidding at twenty dollars,” she announces cheerfully.
“Twenty,” calls some random dude in the audience.
I give up smiling and pretending I’m happy to be here and gaze in his direction in open horror.
“Twenty! All right,” Sloane says. “Do I hear twenty-five?”
“Twenty-five,” calls another man.
“I’ve got thirty.”
“Fifty.”
Oh my god, what is happening?
I don’t know who any of those guys are. Not one.
I swallow, searching the crowd for Ryan, then I hear a voice I recognize call, “Seventy dollars.”
Liam.
Well… I mean, that’s better than some strange guy I don’t know, I guess.
Confusion flickers briefly across Sloane’s brow as if she’s wondering who invited that guy, but she recovers her smile quickly. “All right, we have ourselves a hot little commodity. Do I hear eighty dollars? Come on, fellas, you know she’s worth it.”
“Eighty,” Ryan finally calls, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Eighty-five,” Liam calls.
“Yes, gentlemen. That’s what we like to see. Who wants to go ninety?” Sloane calls, keeping up the momentum.
“Five hundred dollars.”
My heart stops, and my gaze jumps to the edge of the room. He’s not seated. It looks like he just came in—a little late, but just in time.
Killian.
The room goes quiet, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of him. He looks so handsome in black slacks and a black button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. His powerful arms are folded casually over his chest as he leans there against the wall just inside the entrance, and my god, he looks like a dark knight unexpectedly riding to my rescue.
For a moment, I forget why I ever wanted to be away from him, because right now, he looks like… well, my savior.
Again.
A soft smile tugs at my lips. I can’t seem to help it.
He doesn’t smile, but I see the merest hint of one tugging at the corner of his mouth, and I want to kiss it.
Then he winks at me.
My heart does this really stupid thing, I don’t even know.
Stay put, you stupid organ.
But it doesn’t want to. It’s yearning for him, and I… man, I am in so much trouble.
It felt to me like Killian stopped the world, and I guess he did, but as the world always does, it recovers and continues to spin.
Sloane stumbles a bit in her bid to drive the prices higher, but she quickly recovers. “Um, okay, we have $500. Do I hear 515?”
No one speaks up.
She swallows, looking hopefully over the audience. “How about 505?”
Still, no one speaks up.
“It’s for a good cause,” she reminds them. “The poor Rho Kappas. Some asshole burned down their house.”
I glance back at her because that feels like an unhinged comment to make when I’m not sure the authorities have even landed on that being the case, but Sloane seems to be unraveling ever so slightly.
But of course, the Zeta president can’t come undone, so she quickly collects herself and tries one more time. “Every dollar counts, guys. Anyone willing to go 501?”
“Bidding’s closed, Sloane,” Killian states.
Maybe it’s my imagination that she loses a shade of color. Just a strange trick of the light.
She smiles faintly and nods, looking out at the crowd instead of at him. “Sold for five hundred dollars.”