“I wanted to see about changing some classes, but I’ll come back tomorrow," he rushes out, turning and scurrying down the hallway.
* * *
“The rules are simple.You must take each girl on at least one date starting with the one you chose on Selection Night,” Mr. Edgewood explains, and everyone groans except Wyatt, who looks like a twisted version of a clown with how big his smile is.
He’s the only one with someone of substance. The rest of these girls are vapid leeches. The idea of spending any amount of time with them makes my head pound.
“When you say date, what exactly does that entail?” Owen inquires, and I can see him trying to take his date to the butcher shop to gut pigs.
Wes’s dad steps from around the table before he replies, “I mean dinner, conversation, dancing, movies, things to get to know them. You’ll have to pick one of them. Eventually. It would behoove you not to be saddled with someone you despise.”
“We’re choosing Riri. This is all just a formality,” Wyatt states with a surety that dares someone to challenge his decree. He won’t get one from me. Of all the girls, Ariah is the only one I could say I wouldn’t mind having to marry. I still won’t love her, but it would be great to be with someone I could respect.
Mr. Edgewood sighs, “Be that as it may, you still need to hold up your end of this arrangement. Date them, fuck them, just don’t impregnate any of them. As a matter of fact, we’ve called in Dr. Lambert to place birth control implants in each girl’s arm. Save the babies until after college.”
The word baby makes Wes’s face turn four shades of green and Lev stiffen while Owen and Wyatt look crestfallen. Those idiots couldn’t possibly want to get a girl pregnant in high school.
“He didn’t say you couldn’t practice the act of making babies all you want. Fix your faces, you idiots,” I snipe.
Looking at Mr. Edgewood, I nod, acknowledging his wise decision. Those two would try to fill Ariah with so much of their cum she’d be pregnant in a day. I wonder again if she knows exactly what she’s signed up for.
She’s got two wildly possessive and obsessed men at her beck and call, with the third and fourth closer to being team her than she might realize. Lucky for her, it will stop at four. While I may enjoy her surrender, I don’t plan on surrendering in return.
“I expect the dates to begin as soon as tomorrow. You have until the end of the school year and five young women to court,” Mr. Edgewood instructs, staring each of us down with his cold brown eyes. He stops before us, ensuring we understand his last point. “Boys, don’t fuck this up.”
21
ARIAH
After a long day at school, the last thing I want to do is to meet and discuss this Selection shit, but at least I’ll be able to see Dad. I can’t wait for him to be home so we can talk without watchful eyes on us.
I’m still shocked by his appearance when I open the door to my dad’s room. His face is now cleanly shaved, but he still looks somewhat emaciated. Dark puffy bags sit under his gaunt gray eyes that appear paler than their usual smokey gray.
“Ry.” My dad smiles wryly, his face lighting up. “What are you doing here?” he asks, pushing the button to elevate himself into a sitting position.
I step further into the room before answering, “I have some stupid meeting about what this whole Selection process entails, so I thought I’d stop by before going to the stuffy meeting.” I sit at his bedside before continuing. “What madness should I expect when I get up there, Dad?”
I’ve wanted to push for more answers, but I didn’t want to interfere with his recovery. The doctors have already made it clear that we need to keep his stress levels down, ensuring that nothing impedes his recovery.
So, I’ve bitten my tongue. I’m hoping this line of questioning isn’t too heart rate spiking. There are too many unknowns. For every question answered, ten more arise.
Clearing his throat, he responds, “Well, I’d say it was simple, but the rules outlined for this Selection are vastly different than when I was going through it.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. I thought he didn’t grow up here.
“Wait, I thought you never lived in Edgewood? How were you part of the process?”
Dad smirks, nodding before he replies, “Always keen on the details. No, I didn’t, but I still had to participate in the tradition. I can’t get into the whys or hows just yet.”
My cheeks puff as I huff out in exasperation—more answers, but always even more questions.
Leveling him with a glare, I try a different approach. “So, you’re telling me you had to do this too, and with Elise?”
“It was a bit different. We didn’t have to choose one wife to share between us. We each were able to make our choice. It wasn’t anything like what you’re going through now.”
I observe him, trying to gauge how my next question will be received.
“I know you’ve told me some of how you andthatwoman met.” My stomach still roils whenever I think of my mom and how she was never who I thought she was. “But tell me again,” I implore.
