Chapter 34

34

Bodhi

What do you get when you cross a bunch of sexy swimmers with a dating auction?

Pure pandemonium.

One minute, we were attending an upscale event filled with froufrou conversation and expensive booze, and the next, it was like stepping into Magic Mike .

Don’t ever let the monied fool you into thinking their cash buys them class. The second young athletes are on display and up for grabs, all that good breeding turns vulgar. Normally, I was up for a good time. Watching the high-mannered show their true demeanor made me feel somehow less damaged.

But tonight?

Tonight, I had to stand here and watch them fight over Emmett.

But Ryan and Jamie were up before him, so maybe there was a little room for entertainment. If being Elite for the past few weeks had taught me anything, it was that these bros were nothing if not entertaining.

I was sitting with the rest of Elite toward the front of the massive auditorium and off to the left side. Everything reeked of money with row after row of plush upholstered seats in the school’s ivy green. The walls were made of polished walnut and reached three stories, giving way to a coffered ceiling.

The expensive velvet curtains were parted and pulled back to reveal the grandiose stage that had a piano on the right side. A temporary catwalk was built out in the center, stretching toward the first row of seating, which was blocked off, where the merchandise stood on display. Off to the side of the catwalk was a podium where Dean Cardinal, who was acting as auctioneer, stood.

Gone was the string quartette, and in its place was a DJ set up off stage right. I knew because I caught glimpses of the black glitter fedora perched on his head when he moved. He must have been a friend of Arsen’s because I saw him wave in that direction when we first came in and sat down.

The auction started with a few guys from one of the fraternities. Loud music played as they danced themselves out there and strutted around like they were a prize and not half-baked.

Currently, the president of Psi Zeta was front and center and grinning like a pig in shit as the bids rose higher and higher.

“Two thousand,” Dean Cardinal called. “Do we hear twenty-five hundred?”

A paddle must have been raised somewhere in the back because the dean smiled and pointed. “Twenty-five!”

“Three thousand!” someone called from the back, and the guy on stage cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a hoot.

“Three thousand, going once…”

Frat bro raised his arms like he was trying to get someone to bid higher.

“Three thousand, going twice…” Dean Cardinal went on. “Sold! To the lovely lady in the black dress.”

Clapping and a few cheers rang out.

“I’d like to offer a heartfelt thank-you to Psi Zeta for participating in this year’s auction. Your commitment to Westbrook is duly noted.”

The sound of a buzzing phone had me looking down, and Rush lit up the screen in his lap and smirked.

I couldn’t make out all the text bubbles, but I did see the words group chat. I averted my eyes immediately because it was rude to snoop on someone else’s message. It wasn’t at all that knowing they all had a group chat I wasn’t part of cast a dent in the armor I always wore.

“Next up, we have not one, not two, not even three of our esteemed Elite here this evening but five.”

Raucous applause and cheers erupted. A few catcalls and whistles joined the chaos, and the dean smiled like a cat with a canary. When he finally lifted his hand, the noise dropped to a low hum, and he leaned into the microphone again.

“Although, I must inform you all that there is a correction to the program that you all have been given. It seems one of the men, Sean Vargas, is unable to attend.”

Boos filled the auditorium, and Dean Cardinal held up his hand. “However, Ryan Walsh will be stepping in to take his place.”

“ Oh my god! ” someone squealed, and chaos reigned. More squeals, clapping, and an overall loud hum of excited chatter filled the entire space.

Smiling, the dean spoke up again. “As you know, Walsh is the top freestyle swimmer here at Westbrook and is practically a permanent fixture in lane four.”

“He’s so hot,” someone yelled from the back.

“This college is full of horn-balls,” Rory announced just several seats down from me.

I leaned forward to see her perched in the green chair.

She was scowling darkly and had her arms crossed, but the effect was probably not what she hoped because she was so slight in weight that the chair was partially folded up on her, bringing her knees toward her chest.

Madison leaned over, patted her shoulder, and said something in her ear, and Rory smiled. She wiggled in her seat, pushing it down with her legs, but it only popped right back up again and she frowned. Beside her, Wes put his palm on the corner and pushed, using his weight to pin it in place.

“Hopefully, you all will show the same enthusiasm for Walsh as you would have Vargas.” Dean Cardinal continued.

“Bring him out!” a woman yelled from the back.

“Poor Rory,” Landry murmured on the other side of Rush.

“Poor Vargas,” Rush amended. “Bro could have gotten laid.”

“Jason,” Landry admonished. “These are PG dates.”

Rush snorted. “They just have to say that for legal purposes. We both know some of these dudes are getting laid later.”

My stomach twisted as I imagined someone bidding on Emmett in hopes of getting more than a friendly date.

Lowering his voice, Rush continued. “I mean, wasn’t that the whole point in getting Coach up there?”

Unable to stop myself, I let out a choked hack. It was so strong that I doubled over in the seat and wheezed, trying to recover some air.

Rush’s large palm banged on my back as if he thought that would somehow help. Slap. Slap. Slap. All it did was hammer the words he’d just said deeper into my brain.

Eyes watering, I glanced up. “What did you just say?” I rasped.

“To start off our selection of Elite men, we have breaststroke swimmer Adrian Bennett,” the dean said, but I tuned it all out to focus totally on Rush.

Music blasted and the crowd went nuts. Rush glanced to the stage and let out a whistle.

I grabbed his hand and yanked it from his mouth. “Rush.”

He gave me a quizzical look, then planted his elbow on the armrest between us and leaned in. “So I know you don’t have much to compare it to, but Coach has been a real hard-ass this season so far, so the bros decided to throw in on this auction to help him get some action.” Rush smirked. “And hopefully, a better mood.”

Saying I was stunned was an understatement. “You set this whole thing up to get your coach laid ?”

That’s right. I said his coach. Emmett was not my coach. He was my daddy who apparently my ex-bestie was trying to get laid.

Remember that good citizen’s award I mentioned? I should get two because my ass was still planted in this seat and not throwing an epic tantrum.

“Pretty sweet, right?” Rush was proud of himself. Like getting Emmett laid was a good deal.

Rush would not be getting a good citizen’s award.

A whooshing sound filled my ears, and cold sweat broke out at my hairline. Nausea roiled uncomfortably in my stomach as I pictured Emmett going home with someone else.

He said he wouldn’t.

He said he wants just you.

He wouldn’t have to hide anyone else.

I shifted, rubbing against the velvet seat to purposely feel the twinge in my ass, physical and undeniable proof that he’d just been inside me.

I’m going home with him tonight. No one else.

“That is not what tonight is about,” Landry admonished and leaned over Rush to tell me, “We just wanted him to get out. Have a little fun for once. All he does is work.”

“Fun for men is sex,” Rush mused.

Landry groaned. “That’s my dad, Jay.”

My heart was still beating too hard, the palms of my hands clammy. I shifted again, then clenched my ass cheeks, feeling the ache. Blowing out a breath, I slumped back into the chair, the tie around my neck like a noose. Remembering what he’d given me, I shoved my hand into the pocket of my blazer, finding the cool metal of the whistle and wrapping my hand tightly around it. I could feel the small pea inside the body rolling around, and I closed my eyes, imagining the way it sounded when Emmett blew into it. He gave this to me to hold, and though it might not seem like much to anyone else, I knew it meant something.

I relaxed into the seat just as the dean announced the next auction.

“Our next Elite member is a frequent lane four flier with an impressive wingspan of six feet five and a standing height of six feet three.”

Squeals echoed from behind as well as excited chatter. His name murmured through the rows as the dean drolled on.

“He is the top butterfly stroke swimmer at Westbrook, and word on the street is he has his eye on the next qualifiers for the Olympics.”

Damn. I didn’t know that.

Dean Cardinal turned, gazing off to the side stage. “Please welcome Jamie Owens.”

The lights overhead turned a neon shade of pink, and “Pony” by Ginuwine blasted through the speakers.

Jamie strolled out, his long, muscular legs gracefully eating up the stage. He strutted without really strutting because, truthfully, the guy was good-looking enough to not have to be cocky. And judging from the reaction of the people in the seats around us, I wasn’t the only one who thought he was visually pleasing.

Halfway across the stage, he stopped and gyrated his hips, the motion so fluid and natural it was so obvious he was a swimmer because, honestly, no other athlete could gyrate like that.

Catcalls, whistles, and squeals competed with the music. Rush laughed, and I glanced down the row of seats past Rory, who was covering her eyes, to Madison shaking her head like she was so over his shit.

Kinda funny.

Turning back to the stage, I watched Jamie stroll toward the catwalk and stop, spin, and twerk. Yep, popped that booty right out and gave it a little shake.

A woman in the center row fanned her face.

The music died down, the lights switched from the hot pink to normal, and Jamie strolled to the end of the catwalk where he slid his hands in the front pockets of his black tuxedo pants. The action tightened them across his strong thighs and somehow made his broad-ass shoulders even bigger.

Beneath the classic black jacket was a traditional white shirt with black buttons. But the bowtie around his neck made the run-of-the-mill tux seem modern and was a creative nod to his swim stroke. It was a monarch butterfly, its wide, colorful wings right there at his throat. It wasn’t orange, though, like the classic monarch. It was cherry red, which made the black and white designs on the wings pop.

Like me, he’d also forgone the usual dress shoe and instead donned a pair of bright-white Air Force Ones.

Smiling, Dean Cardinal came forward with the mic. “Mr. Owens, would you like to say anything to our bidders this evening?”

Mic in hand, Jamie turned back to the group. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk out here again?”

The dean threw his head back in an exaggerated laugh, but even with his proximity to the microphone, I couldn’t hear it because the audience was back to cheering and clapping again.

Rich people really should get better hobbies.

I can say that because I, too, am rich.

Jamie handed the mic back to the dean and did a little spin.

“All right, so for a chance to spend a full evening with Jamie—” A blast of old-school bad porno music cut through the air, and people cheered.

Once the rowdy and clearly horny crowd calmed, the Dean spoke. “This is a good time to remind everyone that this is a PG auction.”

“Boooo!” someone heckled from the back.

“Let’s start the bidding at two thousand dollars,” Dean Cardinal called.

“Two thousand!” A white paddle shot up.

“Twenty-five hundred,” someone else countered instantly.

Another bid paddle shot up. “Three thousand!”

A sound of annoyance cut in, and a girl shot to her feet in the middle, raising her white paddle high. “Four thousand!”

It was the girl in the pink dress who had insulted Madison during cocktail hour.

“Five thousand,” Madison said, demurely raising her bidding fan.

“Five thousand, five hundred.” Pink dress girl bid.

“Six thousand,” Madison said, her voice raising slightly.

“Seven.”

Madison one-upped her again. “Eight.”

Dean Cardinal made a sound. “Seems I’m not even needed to lobby this bid because I can’t even get a word in edgewise.”

“Ten thousand!” Pink dress girl hollered.

“Oh, no, she did not,” Landry muttered.

“Ten thousand going once…” Dean Cardinal called into the mic.

“Twelve thousand,” Madison called.

“Thirteen,” pink dress girl snapped.

“This girl is worse than a pizza burn on the roof of your mouth.” Landry decided.

I nodded because she was right.

“Fourteen thousand,” Madison said.

“Fifteen.”

“Seventeen.”

“ Eighteen! ”

The girls just lobbied bids back and forth like this was a tennis match, their bidding paddles getting more of a workout than me as of late.

“Bro, it’s kinda sad this girl has to pay so much for a date,” Kruger broadcasted.

“Well, her personality clearly isn’t doing her any favors,” Win added.

“Nineteen!” Pink dress girl yelled.

Madison sprang to her feet, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed as she spun to glare at the girl trying to buy her man.

Pink dress girl smirked and then glanced at Jamie and waved.

Madison let out a noise and raised her paddle, ready to fire out another number. But her bid was interrupted by another.

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

A hush fell over the entire auditorium, a spontaneous moment of silence because…. two hundred thousand dollars?

I mean, these girls were waging a war, right? But this newcomer… decimated it.

On stage, Jamie’s mouth fell open.

Hell, I think everyone’s did.

Dean Cardinal cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

Some rustling and movement came from a few rows behind us, and I turned as an older woman in a gold gown was helped to her feet. She lifted her paddle. “I said two hundred thousand dollars.”

Madison let out a squeak.

“Broooo. He is going to be insufferable after this,” Kruger bemoaned.

“Two hundred thousand, going once…”

I glanced at Madison, wondering if she was prepared to outbid that.

Her wide eyes were on Jamie, so I looked too. He was shaking his head at Madison, telling her not to bid.

“Going twice…”

Pink dress girl let out a frustrated wail and flopped back into her seat.

“Sold! To the lovely lady in gold for two hundred thousand dollars!” Dean Cardinal banged a gavel as if that made it official. “Thank you, ma’am, for your extremely generous donation.”

Jamie gave a quick bow and then vacated the stage, still looking slightly flabbergasted.

“Well, that was exciting!” Dean Cardinal announced. “Should we move on while the bidding is hot?”

Down the row, I heard Madison ask, “Does anyone know who that is?”

I glanced back in the direction of the woman who had thrown down some mad pocket change to spend some time with Jamie, but I no longer saw her.

“Jamie’s new sugar momma,” Kruger quipped.

“Ben,” Jess admonished.

Madison looked a little green around the gills, and for a moment, empathy rose in me. I didn’t want to share my man either.

But is he really mine?

Slipping my hand into my pocket, I consoled my bruised emotions by gripping the whistle.

“Our next swimmer really needs no introduction,” Dean Cardinal announced, and people started to cheer. Grinning, he held out his arm. “Ryan Walsh, get out here!”

More R&B music pumped through the speakers—Ne-Yo, if I wasn’t mistaken—and the lights went blue.

Ryan’s dark head appeared, and people got louder, his megawatt smile glowing under the light. Since he wasn’t originally supposed to be in the auction, he wasn’t wearing a tuxedo but, instead, a deep blue suit. It fit like a glove, probably custom-tailored to his swimmer form, and his tie… Wait, where was his tie? He’d been wearing one earlier, but now it wasn’t there.

People continued to holler and whistle as Ryan danced across the stage. In my row, Elite clapped and cheered.

Ryan swaggered down the catwalk, right to the end, and reached for the buttons on his jacket, which raised the already disorderly noise to downright wild.

“Take it off!” someone howled, and Ryan laughed, nimbly undoing the fabric.

Once the buttons were unfastened, he tugged the garment off his shoulders and shook them a little. Gone was the dress shirt he’d been wearing beneath it, which also explained the absence of his tie. In its place was a white T-shirt, the kind with the arms cut off. That flash of skin had people going feral.

Do you see what I mean now about money not buying class?

Ryan spun, putting his back to the crowd, and slid the jacket down, revealing his cut arms. Shrieks echoed to the ceilings, and he tossed the jacket onto the stage to lift his arms and—you guessed it—flex.

“Fucking Walsh,” Rush mused from beside me, but it was a wonder I even heard him over all the noise.

Across the back of the tank Ryan wore was the word ELITE in bold.

The music faded, but the crowd continued to howl as Ryan bent down to scoop up his jacket and fling it one handed behind his shoulder. When he faced the group again, his dark hair was slightly disheveled and he was smiling.

“Well, that was quite the entrance,” the dean said, carrying the microphone toward Ryan. “So listen, since you are a last-minute addition to the auction?—”

“Amen!” someone screamed, and laughter followed.

“This is not church, ma’am,” the dean joked, causing more laughter.

“But Ryan is a swim god!” someone else roared.

Applause erupted.

Ryan grinned.

“Anyway,” the dean said, attempting to get back on track. “I figured I would give you a little pop quiz so our fine bidders could get to know you a bit better.”

Ryan leaned into the mic. “Bring it on.”

“First question,” the dean replied. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite thing to do besides swim?”

“Drive my Jeep.”

“Favorite food?”

Ryan smiled. “Carrots.”

“Carrots?” the dean repeated. “I was not expecting that.”

Everyone in our row cackled, and Rory groaned.

“He’s a healthy boy!” Win hollered.

“I’ll open the bidding at two thousand dollars,” Dean Cardinal announced.

“Five thousand!” someone called.

“Ten!” someone else countered.

Pink dress girl popped up from her hole and raised her paddle. “Twelve thousand!”

Rory shot to her feet, legs tangling in her blue gown. She probably would have fallen if Wes hadn’t reached over to steady her.

Before she was even completely stable, she glared in the direction of what she considered a barnacle. “Don’t even think about it, you tampon tunnel!”

A heartbeat of stunned silence followed that little gem and was immediately chased by low laughter and gasps.

Pink dress girl, aka tampon tunnel, gasped and pointed her paddle in the direction of Ryan’s girlfriend. “She should be disqualified for that!”

Dean Cardinal cleared his throat. “Ladies, let us refrain from insults. This is all in good fun.”

“It’s only an insult if it’s not true,” Rory stated.

“Oh, please,” pink dress snarked and started charging down her row. “As if you’re some prize. I’ve seen salads that dress better than you!” The second she stumbled into the aisle, she yanked her high heels off, slapping them onto the ground, and barreled in Rory’s direction.

Our entire row stood, but Rory’s attacker didn’t make it that far because Ryan leaped off the stage and caught her around the waist, towing her off the seat she was attempting to climb over.

She kicked and fought. “Let me go!” she demanded.

“Not gonna happen,” Ryan rumbled, and the girl went still, looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, Ryan.” Her entire demeanor changed, and I felt like I was looking at the girl version of Jekyll and Hyde. “You look great up on stage.”

“You look great too,” he said. She preened, trying to turn and gloat to Rory. “Especially being hauled away by security,” he deadpanned and handed her off to a man in a security guard uniform at the side door.

“What? Wait! If I have to leave, then so does she!” the girl yelled as she was being escorted away. “I bid on you!”

The door slammed behind her, and Ryan hopped back on the stage, grabbing the mic from the dean.

“Her bid is void,” he told the audience. “You don’t dis the missus.”

“You aren’t married!” Kruger yelled.

Everyone ignored him.

“That’s my girl,” Ryan said, pointing to Rory. “And I’d just like to make it clear that you can bid on an hour or two of my time, but my heart isn’t up for sale ‘cause she already owns it.”

A few sighs went around the room.

“You can sit down now, carrot,” Ryan told her. Then he smiled. “And behave.”

“You call your girlfriend carrot?” the dean asked.

Ryan nodded.

“Well,” he quipped. “I suppose that’s one way to get your vegetables.”

The crowd laughed.

“Shall we get back to bidding?” Dean Cardinal asked.

“Thirteen thousand!” someone called.

“Sixteen thousand!”

“Twenty!”

Numbers kept flying, and then a man stood and lifted his paddle. “Fifty thousand.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up.

“Sold!” Dean Cardinal declared, banging the gavel before anyone could bid more. “Thank you, sir. Your donation is appreciated.”

The next Elite swimmer went for twenty thousand and without any bidding wars or insults. Truthfully, I didn’t pay much attention because the more minutes that passed, the closer we got to Emmett’s turn on stage. To the plan Elite concocted to get Emmett laid.

“If you checked the program, then you probably know the final member of Elite donating his time tonight is not a current swimmer,” Dean Cardinal announced.

My stomach clenched. Here we go.

“Emmett Resch is actually an alumnus of Westbrook University and a former Elite swimmer. He’s been coaching here for over fifteen years and has brought us many titles, shaped several Olympic medalists, and is the reason Elite is the most prestigious D-1 swim program on this side of the country.”

Clapping and cheers erupted, some of Elite yelling, “Yeah, Coach!”

“Emmett has also been a friend of mine for many years.”

Those words lodged in my throat as a fresh wave of nausea rolled over me. Emmett was friends with the dean? No wonder he was so skittish about us.

He smiled. “And I’d also like to make note that he is currently single.”

More of that bad porn music played through the speakers, but this time, the dean didn’t remind everyone this was supposed to be PG.

Was he trying to get Emmett laid too? This officially sucked.

“So without further ado…”

Who the fuck says the word ado? Rich dick.

“Let me introduce Elite Coach Emmett Resch!”

Music played, but all I could hear was the sound of my heart thundering between my ears. Neon-yellow light bathed him as he stepped out on the stage. His tie was slightly askew as though he’d been tugging on it in the back, and for some reason, that little detail made the jealousy I’d been holding back vault over all my efforts and consume me.

Smiling, he walked out—no twerking or stripping for him—and my hands fisted in my lap. The tops of his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his shoulders were stiff.

On the other side of Rush, Landry cheered and clapped. Rush threw out a few whoops and the rest of Elite chanted, “ Coach, Coach, Coach .”

I just wanted this to be over. I wanted him to be mine. Only mine.

“Because this is such a high-quality man,” the dean began, “let’s start the bid at three thousand.”

And people started to bid on the man whose whistle was in my pocket. The man who’s cum currently was smeared between my thighs.

I tucked my hands beneath my knees, listening to people toss out a price, slapping a monetary value on something I considered priceless.

But maybe he wasn’t priceless after all because this moment sure was costing me.

“Eight thousand!” someone bid.

“Turn around a little, Emmett. Show off the merchandise.” Dean Cardinal laughed.

Emmett’s jaw flexed, but he turned in a slow circle.

“I think that’s what the kids would call aging like fine wine,” the dean mused.

Did I mention I hated the dean? I did. Probably more than Lars.

Oh, what’s that? You don’t care if I hate the dean, but my intense dislike for that blond-haired Swede offends you?

Maybe I’ll turn on some Celine Dion and feel all emo about it.

But likely not.

“Oh, that’s my nurse from when I was in the hospital.” Landry seemed excited, patting on Rush’s leg. “Do you remember her?”

“How could I forget?” Rush mused. “Coach pulled out his whistle, and she gave him the evil eye.”

Landry giggled. “I might have told her he would be here tonight.”

A sour taste coated my tongue, and I pulled my hands from under my legs to chip away at the fresh black polish on my nails.

“Ten thousand!”

“Eleven!”

“I’m worried she’s going to be outbid.” Landry fretted. “She’s a nurse, not an heiress.”

“Fifteen!”

“Looks to me like she’s determined,” Rush mused. “Maybe she’s a nurse and an heiress.”

I craned my head, staring through the faces to pick out the woman Landry had invited for her dad. I spotted her easily because she still had her paddle in the air. She was probably around Emmett’s age, maybe a little younger, with straight, long dark hair that fell over her shoulders, and from what I could see, her dress was white. Beside her, a woman leaned in and spoke, and she smiled, eyes still on Em.

“Fifteen thousand, going once…”

“Oooh, hurry up,” Landry chanted. “I hope she wins.”

The urge to throw out an obscene amount of money and ruin their entire plan was so strong I actually started to speak.

“What’s that, bro?” Rush asked, nudging my shoulder.

“I gotta piss,” I said, standing.

The movement caught Emmett’s eye, and for a brief moment, our stares collided. Why can’t things be different?

“Going twice…”

Ripping my gaze away, I turned toward the exit, the sudden feeling of the sky falling making me practically run.

“Sold! To the lovely lady in the white dress!”

I let the door slam behind me, knowing the applause would cover most of the noise. Slumping back against the door, I heaved in a shuddering breath.

The ache in my lower body and even the whistle I desperately curled my hand around suddenly weren’t good enough. In this moment, they seemed like poor substitutions for the real thing. Memories of what was already over and might not come again.

I couldn’t convince myself those were just self-sabotaging thoughts, not when Emmett’s date had a face now. And an endorsement from his beloved daughter.

Yeah, paltry leftovers from a quickie bathroom hookup just weren’t enough, and I was done convincing myself otherwise.

Fuck this.

Fuck him.

What do you get when the man you love tells you he wants you, asks for time, and then does a dating auction even after you ask him not to?

Payback.