Page 13 of The Summer We Lie

The email sits on my phone screen, the words blurring then sharpening as I blink in disbelief.

FROM: Obsidian Elite Services [[email protected]]

TO: Cherry Red [[email protected]]

SUBJECT: Auction Results- Exclusive Arrangement

Dear Cherry Red, We are pleased to inform you that your auction has concluded successfully with a winning bid of $1,200,000.00 USD. The winning bidder, ArchitectOfControl, has requested an initial meeting on Friday, May 16th at 8:00 PM at a location to be disclosed 24 hours prior. As per our protocol, please respond within 48 hours confirming your acceptance of this arrangement. Should you decline, your listing will be removed with no penalty. All safety protocols and verification procedures remain in effect. Our concierge team will handle all arrangements and financial transactions upon completion.

With appreciation for your discernment,

The Obsidian Management

This communication is encrypted and intended solely for the addressed recipient. Any unauthorized access is tracked and legally actionable under our membership agreement.

I stare at the email, not believing someone is paying over one million dollars for my virginity. One point two million dollars. For me. For one night with me. The numbers swim in front of my eyes, transforming into all the things they represent—Justin's college fund, Mom's bills, our mortgage payments, my student loans vanishing into thin air. It's like watching all our financial problems dissolve one by one, replaced by possibilities I've never allowed myself to imagine.

"Ms. Caldwell?"

"Uh huh," I say when her voice finally registers. The classroom has emptied around me, chairs vacant, backpacks gone, leaving just me staring at my phone like I've seen a ghost.

"I said class is over. Is everything okay?" Professor Wilson asks, her brow furrowed as she gathers her lecture notes. She tucks a strand of gray hair behind her ear, peering at me with genuine concern.

"Oh. Yes. Everything is great, sorry. I just spaced out a second there," I say, quickly locking my phone screen, heart hammering against my ribs. God, imagine if she'd seen what I was looking at. Professor Wilson, who thinks I'm this dedicated graphic design student with a promising future, not someone who just auctioned off her virginity to a stranger.

She laughs, sliding her laptop into her bag. "Happens to the best of us."

I stand up and do the same, feeling like I'm in a daze still. The floor beneath me doesn't quite feel solid, like I'm walking on a cloud or maybe quicksand. I need to tell Harper. I hope she's home. She's the only one who would understand, who wouldn't judge me for what I'm about to do.

I walk out of the class and send her a quick text, fingers trembling slightly as I type.

Me: Big news, meet me at home!

Her response comes almost immediately, making my phone buzz against my palm.

Harper: Way ahead of you babe!

She sends me a picture of her legs in a bubble bath, toenails freshly painted crimson against the white foam. The color reminds me of the wig I wear in all of my videos—Cherry Red. The name I chose because I still have my cherry.

I practically sprint to my car and jump in, fumbling with my keys. I make it home in record time, even though our apartment is only like 10 minutes away from campus. My hands shake slightly on the steering wheel as my mind races, imagining a thousand different scenarios about who this ArchitectOfControl might be and what he expects.

I can't believe I'm even doing this and now someone has won. All of this blows my mind, and all of it is happening so fast. Of course I had to go through like a week of vetting to be approved, but once approval happened, it was the following weekend the auction went up. The auction stayed up for three days—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Apparently I was notified Sunday after the winning bidder confirmed, but I didn't see it until I was sitting in class playing on my phone after the final. And now it's real. This is actually happening.

I get out of my car, grabbing my stuff in a hurry and making my way to our apartment. The spring air feels electric against my skin, or maybe that's just the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Harper!" I call, pushing through our front door. "You are never going to guess what happened." I set my stuff down on a dining room chair, making my way to her room. Our apartment is small but cozy, filled with Harper's tasteful decor and my scattered art supplies. "Harp?" I say and knock on her door, my knuckles rapping against the wood a little too frantically.

"Come in," she calls, and she's standing in front of her bathroom mirror in a towel, rubbing moisturizer on her face. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a few damp strands framing her face. She looks effortlessly beautiful, like always.

"Holy shit," I blurt out, leaning against her doorframe for support. "Someone just paid one point two million dollars to have sex with me."

Harper freezes, the moisturizer bottle suspended in midair. Her green eyes widen until I can see the gold flecks in them catching the afternoon light, like little sparks igniting with the news.

"What!" she shrieks, nearly dropping the bottle. "Did the auction end? Who is he?" The questions tumble out of her mouth in a breathless rush, her freckles standing out against her suddenly flushed skin.

"Yes, one point two million, and I don't know yet," I say, pulling my phone from my pocket with trembling fingers and showing her the email. "They just gave me his username and said he wants to meet me this Friday." The screen glows between us, making the whole situation feel somehow more real and surreal at the same time.

She grabs the phone from my hand, eyes darting back and forth as she reads. "ArchitectOfControl," she says, a smile spreading across her face. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rise with intrigue. "Sounds hot already. Like someone who knows exactly what he wants."