CHAPTER 1
PEYTON BRADY
The tent is crowded, especially on the auction floor. I’m slightly baffled by it. There are so many faces I can’t determine who goes to school here, who works here, and who’s from town.
“Good turnout,” Eli says as he stands beside me.
We’re ‘backstage,’ though it’s not much of a backstage. This is one of those enormous party tents. One end is set up with a platform stage, half of which is walled off by a tall, rainbow curtain. We’re standing to the side in the wings, where more rainbow curtains are bunched up in a way you’d see them hanging at the sides of windows.
I don’t know the girl currently on stage. The big screen that alternates between showing the front of her card with her picture and personal information on it and the reverse, which has the date, is at the other end of the stage from where we’re standing to watch. Her name is Samantha. It looks like she plays soccer.
There’s a bar above the card with the current bid. She’s up to $342.
“Do you think we’re allowed to bid on the date?” Winston asks as he comes up beside us.
“I think the point is to raise money, so I don’t think they care who bids,” Eli says. “You want this Samantha girl?”
Winston looks at her. “Dude, that’s my sister.”
We both look at him, and Eli’s eyes are wide. For a solid thirty seconds, Winston looks disgusted before he bursts into laughter. Eli shoves him.
“Fucker.”
I roll my eyes and turn back as the auction is rounding up just shy of $400.
“Nah,” Winston says. “Sammi’s cool. I was thinking of someone else on her team, though.”
“I don’t think it’s against the rules as long as you pay what you bid,” I say.
“Though you’re literally putting money into the soccer team’s pockets. Put it into ours!” Eli argues.
“No offense, but I don’t want to date any of you bitches. I see enough of you.”
They shove at each other a few times. Samantha walks towards us, a smile on her face. “Hey, dudebros,” she greets, patting Winston’s chest on the way by. “Good luck on your auctions.”
“Dudebros?” I ask.
Winston shrugs, laughing. “The soccer team calls our team dudebros. The kind that burps loudly and laughs about it.”
I scrunch my face. “How nice.”
He laughs as he’s called onto the stage and takes his position. He spends the entire time he’s on stage posing. Showing off his biceps. Hiking the leg of his shorts up to show off his thighs. He turns and clenches his ass cheeks.
The cheering and whistling are so loud that they’re having a hard time seeing the bid paddles and hearing the bids called.
“Wow,” Eli says. “I think everyone else is doing it wrong. He’s already up to $600.”
“What a bitch,” I say, laughing. My eyes scan the audience again, looking for one person in particular. If he’s here, I can’t see him. I know he’s short, so he could very well be here, and I’d not see him mixed into the masses. But he also always wears bright colors. He sparkles like the angel he is.
“Beat that,” Winston says, slapping us both as he joins us again. When the bidding stopped, he’d raised nearly $900.
“Did they actually pay or continue to bid because they got lost in the starry shine of your muscles?” Eli asks.
He shrugs. “Not my problem. I still banked. Coach will be proud.”
My stomach flips when he mentions Coach. My heart lodges in my throat as Coach walks in the door just as I glance that way. Right before it’s my turn.
With a grin, I take my spot on the stage and stare directly at Coach Lemon. He shakes his head, but I nod. Encouraging him to bid. He holds my stare, and I continue nodding at him. He doesn’t have a bidding paddle and stuffs his hands in his pockets, but I don’t give up hope.
