Page 153 of Whistle

Win: $100 on Ryan. Sorry, Jamie, but the last time we were out, three girls asked Ryan for his number.

Rory: WHAT?

Wes: You weren’t supposed to mention that…

Rory: RYAN STEPHEN WALSH

Kruger: See, this is what I’m talking about.

Lars: My money is on Jamie.

Landry: $100 on my dad.

Rush: Women do like the grumpy bearded type. $100 on Coach.

Wes: $100 on Coach

Jamie: I’ll forgive this, Wes, because you obviously have a weak spot for grumpy men.

Wes: *smirk emoji*

Rory: I’m still waiting for an explanation.

Ryan: Baby, they asked. I denied. Told them the only number I knew was yours.

Kruger: Smooth, bro.

Madison: The lights are dimming! It’s going to start.

Madison: My money is on Jamie. *wink emoji*

Jamie: You bros keep your cash. I already won the jackpot.

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.

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