33. Teenage Dreams #3
But he’s already gone, weaving off in the direction of the bar. I turn to Jonas. “You should check on him. It’s not like him to drink so much.”
I didn’t think he had drunk that much. Jonas waves his hand. He’s staring off to our right. “Let him be. It’s been a rough few weeks.”
Benji shifts his chair back. Liam, too. Both of them disappear as I pick at my food and stare at Carter’s full plate.
None of them have come back by the time dessert is served. Which is annoying as hell, because the chocolate dome shaped like a puck is incredible. I watch mournfully as the plates are removed.
All auction participants to the podium, please. A tinny echo sounds through the PA system. All auction participants to the podium.
I’m regretting this decision more by the minute. Ronnie greets me with a hug, and I pull back with a scowl. “I’m so not talking to you.”
“Worth it. You deserved a shout out.” She smirks, nudging me to the side of the stage. “All right, everyone! If you can wait your turn, we’ll get through this as quickly as possible before we lose the room to the party. Everyone here? Great.”
I watch as she opens with a set of signed jerseys, my stomach still tight at the sight of my now-empty table. There’s no sign of Carter in the crowd at all, and Liam and Benji still haven’t come back. Jonas has attached himself to Lauren’s side, and I mentally roll my eyes.
At this point, an NOC exemption really isn’t going to come as a surprise to anyone. My brows knot as I watch Lauren shake her head and walk away from him.
She doesn’t look happy. I crane my head, not paying attention.
“Rosie Johnson!” Shit. I can tell it’s not the first time Ronnie’s said my name.
Trying to smile and very conscious it feels more like I’m on display at a horse show, I shuffle to her side.
Ronnie is clearly having an excellent time at my expense.
“Lot seven in tonight’s auction is dinner with the Titan’s very own Rosie Johnson.
She lists her conversational topics as Shakespeare, baked goods and eighties music, has a degree in Communications and Media from Syracuse University and can fit her entire fist inside her mouth. ”
I elbow her, hissing. “That was not in the brief.”
“Clearly an oversight on your part.” Ronnie holds up her hand to settle the laughter. “We’re starting the bidding at ten thousand, folks, so dig deep! Do I have ten thousand?”
Jesus Christ. My conversational skills are not worth that much. At least my pack will bid on me.
Or… not. The lights from the stage get in my eyes as I try to look out across the crowd, but I’m ninety per cent sure that nobody from my pack is in sight and one hundred per cent annoyed.
Although embarrassment sneaks its way in as the silence stretches out.
“We have ten thousand!” Ronnie sounds delighted, if relieved. “Thank you to Katie Cross!”
A smattering of applause sounds as I mentally bless my friend. May she have all the hip thrust videos she desires. “Can we get fifteen thousand?”
Feels like it’s pushing it. I fidget with my hands, humiliation flushing over me. I can’t believe none of them are here. It’s practically an unwritten rule that packs bid on their own omegas. Nobody else will risk it. “Fifteen thousand from Noah West! Do I hear twenty?”
Extra tamales for Noah at the next team dinner. At least I’m not a complete wash-out.
“Twenty thousand to Katie Cross!”
I hear a female cheer from beyond the lights and grin.
“We have…” Ronnie leans forward. “Thirty thousand! Thank you!”
From who? I lean forward, trying to see.
“Fifty thousand!” Katie bellows. I slam my hand over my mouth to hold in my laughter. I can only imagine Ethan’s expression.
All for a good cause, though.
“I think we can do better than that,” Ronnie says coyly. “Any more for our lovely lot seven?”
Honestly. I feel like a warehouse package.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand!”
My mouth gapes open, certain I’ve misheard. Ronnie does the same, her mouth flapping comically before she recovers. “I’m sorry—was that two hundred and fifty thousand?”
Jesus, Katie.
Except Katie’s voice is… not that low. My girl can reach heights only dogs can hear when she’s excited.
The churning in my stomach eases off. Carter. Has to be. Better late than never, I guess.
“That… is confirmed!” Ronnie shoots me a strange look before she swallows and stares down at the sheet in front of her. “Any… more for Rosie?”
My smile spreads as I shade my eyes, trying to see.
“All right, then. Going!”
Wait.
My table… is still empty. My eyes swing from place to place, searching the crowd. I don’t see Carter anywhere. But I find someone else instead.
“Going…” Ronnie sounds like she’s stalling.
Boone holds my gaze, his jaw tight and an auction paddle gripped in his raised hand.
No.
This… cannot be happening.
“Sold!” Ronnie sounds like she’s choking. “Dinner with Rosie Johnson goes to… Boone Mercer! For two hundred and fifty thousand dollars—uh, that’s a record, folks.”
Silence wipes out any noise from the stunned crowd.
Nobody more so than me.