My phone vibrates in my hand.
Shall I go higher?
Yes, one hundred.
Oli shouts, “One hundred dollars!”
The crowd turns to him, probably wondering if he’s now batting for the other side.
My shoulders relax. Surely Finn will give up now. I inhale a deep breath of the salty sea air, feeling a little lighter—one hundred bucks lighter. But less like I did in gym class, even if I was technically bidding on myself. I’m used to it. Back yourself, Mom always says.
I slink sideways, attempting to sneak off stage.
A British voice shouts, “Ten thousand dollars!”
I halt at the steps, pivoting on the toes of my flip-flops as I turn to face Finn with his arm raised.
The crowd gasps. All eyes on him. Cameras snap and phones flash in his direction.
My heart hammers in my throat. My head is light. It’s so hot up here. I fan myself, fearing I may faint at any minute. I question my sanity and if I heard what I heard.
Apparently, so does Harrison, as he holds the mic to his mouth. “Come again?”
“You heard me. Ten thousand dollars.”
My phone pings. With a shaky hand, I peek at the text from Oli.
If you don’t kiss him for ten Gs, then I will.
Harrison glances my way with wide eyes. His voice a little higher pitched than usual. “Any advance on ten thousand dollars?”
Finn glances around, a confident smile on his face.
“Going once. Twice. Sold to the gentleman in the white shirt. Come and claim your prize.”
Finn swaggers towards the makeshift stage on the bandstand. I think my heart’s stopped. Fainting now might not be so bad.
Chapter Six
FINN
The girl I’ve just spent ten grand on for one kiss clings to the railing as she wobbles down the steps. Blood rushes to my head. My conscience screaming at me about what I’ve done or what I’m about to do.
She bites her bottom lip, her chest heaving beneath her blue slogan tee. Blood rushes to my other head, thinking of having my lips on this girl, and not just her mouth.
I clutch the sketchbook under my arm and shove my other hand in my pocket, tenting my shorts before anything else does. “Hey.” For once, I’m speechless.
Before she has time to respond, a reporter shoves a mic in my face. A barrage of questions about Shelly and our relationship all blur into one. Any tent in my shorts collapses at the onslaught of media and I hold my hand up. “This is a good cause, and Miss Myrtle will ensure the money is well-spent. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”
The media circus makes way for Shelly, cameras at theready. She’s still unsteady on her feet, biting her bottom lip. The urge I have to bite it for her overwhelms me. I could take my ten grand kiss right now for the world to see.
That was the plan: make her eat her words, win the bet, restore my ego and my pride. As well as get one up on the lads and Shelly. But face to face with her now, that’s not what I want at all. I want more.
After her speech this morning, I can truly comprehend the incredible woman she is. Proving my worthiness to this woman is all that matters now. Everything else seems irrelevant.
A teammate of hers, with the same branded t-shirt, squeezes through the circle of press surrounding us. “Can I get a name, please, sir?” She taps her pen against her clipboard.
“Finn—” I stop myself, not wanting to give my full name in front of the press. “Just Finn.” I’m sure they’ll know who I am soon enough, but no point handing it to them on a plate. “Can we go somewhere more private?”
