Chapter 1 #2
"Hypothetically, if there was an opportunity to spend an entire evening with a certain coach's daughter..." I pause for dramatic effect, watching his face carefully for any reaction.
Quentin goes tense beside me. "Milo."
"In a completely sanctioned, school-approved, charitable context..."
"What did you do?"
I shove my phone in his face so aggressively I nearly break his nose, which would really put a damper on our evening plans. "LOOK."
His eyes lock on the screen, scanning the Fab Feb auction roster I've been refreshing obsessively for weeks.
I've checked this thing so many times the website probably thinks I'm a bot.
His gaze finds the name I spotted this morning, nestled between two hockey players and the lacrosse captain like it was always meant to be there.
Iris Delacroix.
Quentin goes very, very still. His jaw tightens as his scent shifts beside me, going deeper and more intense, more Alpha-adjacent even though he's technically a Beta.
When his eye twitches like that, it means he's either about to murder someone or fall in love.
Sometimes both. In this case, I'm betting on both.
"She signed up," he says quietly.
"SHE SIGNED UP."
"For Fab Feb."
"For Fab Feb, Q. The Alpha Auction. Where people bid on Alphas for dates. With money. That they exchange for time with said Alphas. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"I know what Fab Feb is."
"Then you know what this means."
His grip tightens on my phone. For a second, I genuinely think he might crush it, and I really can't afford a new phone right now.
"There's a catch though," I add. Life is just an endless series of catches.
"Chad and Kevin are definitely going to bid.
They've been waiting for this since she showed up on campus.
Chad's been talking about it in the locker room for weeks.
It's literally all he talks about." I’m not sure how Quentin missed all that but he usually keeps to himself.
Quentin's jaw somehow tightens further.
"He said, and I quote, 'She can't reject me if she's contractually obligated to go on a date with me.'"
"That's not how consent works."
"I know."
Silence stretches between us as I watch my brother war with himself for a long moment. Then his expression settles into something a bit darker, something that looks like a promise and a threat rolled into one. "We outbid them."
I gasp so dramatically that I lose my balance, my arms pinwheeling as I nearly topple backward.
A couple of guys walking past shoot me a few glares, but I don't care because Quentin just said something that borders on emotionally invested.
"Q! Was that competitive spirit? From you?
" I clutch my chest like I'm witnessing a miracle, which honestly I might be.
"The man who once said emotions were 'inefficient'? "
"I never said that."
"You heavily implied it. Multiple times. I have witnesses. I could produce a signed affidavit if necessary."
He doesn't bother denying it, and he doesn't rise to the bait the way he usually would. Instead, his attention has shifted entirely to the phone still clutched in his hands, his eyes scanning the roster with an intensity I usually only see before a big game.
He searches the other names, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he calculates bid amounts and threat levels. His thumb scrolls slowly, like he's memorizing every single person who might stand between us and Iris.
Coach blows the whistle again, the sharp sound cutting through the February air, and the last stragglers start heading for the locker room. Quentin stands first, offering me a hand up, and we walk together toward the athletic building.
Neither of us speaks, but the plan is already forming between us, unspoken and understood the way things always are with us. Twin telepathy or whatever. We've been finishing each other's sentences since we were three years old; planning a coordinated auction bid is nothing.
Finding the money, though, is an entirely different beast.
The locker room hits us with a wall of steam and noise the moment we push through the doors.
Guys are everywhere, changing out of practice gear, complaining about the drills Coach ran us through, and making plans for the weekend.
Someone's playing music from a tiny phone speaker, some bass-heavy song that's barely audible over the chaos.
The whole place smells like sweat and cheap body spray and that particular brand of masculine desperation that only exists in athletic spaces.
It also stinks like Alpha in here, which means my scent-block is failing. Fuck. Quentin and I find our lockers in the back corner, away from the worst of the noise. We change quickly, keeping our voices low enough that no one nearby can hear.
"So we're doing this?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Together? Package deal?"
"Package deal."
"We pool our money. Outbid everyone. Split the date."
"That's the plan."
"And if Chad cries?"
"I'm not apologizing."
"Q, if Chad cries, I'm recording it. I'm making it my ringtone. I'm going to set it as my alarm. I'm going to..."
"Focus."
"Right. Focused. Very focused. Laser focused. That's me."
Across the locker room, Chad's voice cuts through the noise like a foghorn.
He's not even trying to be subtle about it.
He wants people to hear him and know about his plans.
It's a dominance display, like a peacock fanning its feathers, except the peacock has a spray tan and an inflated sense of self-worth.
"I'm thinking two grand, easy," he announces to Kevin and whoever else is listening. He's standing on the bench between the lockers, literally elevating himself so everyone can see him. "She's worth it. Coach's daughter, man. The status."
"Bro, imagine if I won her instead," Kevin says from below. "She'd finally see what she's been missing."
Chad laughs. "Nah bro, she wants an Alpha. That's me. Betas don't have what it takes." He flexes for emphasis, as if his biceps are somehow relevant to this conversation.
Kevin's smile flickers, just for a second. "Right, yeah, totally."
"No offense, Kev."
"None taken, bro."
He's clearly offended. His jaw is tight and his eyes have that wounded look, but he plasters on a smile anyway. Classic Kevin.
"Anyway, after I win her, I'm thinking dinner at Castellano's," Chad continues, getting louder as his audience grows. A few guys have actually stopped changing to listen. "Really fancy. She'll be so impressed she'll forget all about playing hard to get."
"Smart, bro. Women love fancy."
"Women." I mouth the word to Quentin, barely containing my disgust. God, these two are a matching set of red flags sewn into human-shaped containers. Some part of me is worried, though. Who does Iris like? Does she have a crush or a preference? Would she even want a scatter-brained Omega like me?
I glance at Quentin. His expression hasn't changed, still that neutral mask he wears like armor, but his scent has sharpened a little. He's going to enjoy destroying them. More than he should.
Same, honestly. I already can't wait.
I pull out my phone and text Avery before I lose my nerve. My fingers fly across the screen while Quentin finishes changing beside me.
Milo: so we're bidding on the coach's daughter tonight
The reply comes almost instantly.
Avery: excuse me WHAT
Milo: fab feb. she signed up. we're going for it.
Avery: you're insane
Milo: yes and?
Avery: and i love it. do it. report back immediately. i need to live vicariously through someone else's chaos for once
Milo: aren't you literally dating your stepbrother
Avery: THAT'S WHY I SAID FOR ONCE
Avery: my chaos is settled. i need fresh chaos.
Milo: you're my favorite enabler
Avery: i know. now go get your girl
Avery: girls? girl? how does this work
Milo: honestly? no idea. we're figuring it out.
Avery: that's the spirit. good luck. don't die.
Milo: helpful. very helpful.
I pocket my phone and look at Quentin. He's already dressed in his usual uniform. I still need to figure out what to wear, but that's a problem for when we get back to the dorm.
"Ready?" I ask.
"No."
"Perfect. Let's go win an Alpha."
Tonight's either going to be the best decision of my life or an absolute catastrophe. Knowing me, knowing my track record with impulse decisions, it's probably going to be both.
But at least we'll beat Chad. That alone is worth several grand, worth every penny we're about to spend.
And if we get Iris too? If she looks at us the way I've imagined her looking at us, like we're worth her time, like we're something more than just faces in the crowd?
That will be worth everything.
One night. How bad could it be?