Page 140 of Whistle

It was suspicious. Yet here I was, looking around for their familiar faces as I walked into the Westbrook theater building, which lowkey looked like an old stone castle. The lobby was impressively large with polished glacier-like marble floors, massive glass doors, and a ceiling that was likely three stories high. The rich mingled, all of them dressed to the nines and holding sparkling champagne flutes. A small string quartette played on the far side of the room, and servers wound through the groups of attendees, offering fresh drinks and canapes on golden trays.

It was just like my old college, Pembrook. So much so that it gave me the ick. The overwhelming urge to not be here had me seeking out the exit and pondering escape. Elite was a sponsor of this event, and technically, I was Elite, but no one would even notice if I left.

All eyes would be on the five swimmers being sold—excuse me—volunteering to raise money for charity. A few fraternities were doing the same. I wasn’t even sure what else was going on here tonight because I didn’t care.

Decision made, I turned to go.

“There he is,” a familiar voice called, and I winced. I glanced a few feet away to Jamie, the loudmouth who ruined my escape.

“We were wondering when you were gonna get here.” Rush appeared, draping an arm across my shoulders.

I glanced at him. “I was just leaving.”

He laughed under his breath and steered me toward the group. “Not anymore.”

“Malibu Barbie by day, Ken by night.” Kruger cackled when we approached. He was also like a broken sprinkler, but like me, no one called him charming. He was more like the resident moron.

“Hey, Bodhi.” Ryan’s girlfriend, Rory, waved from beside him. She was so small that she made me look big. Her deep-blue dress skimmed the floor, giving the impression she was floating, and her red hair was pulled up at her crown.

“Hey,” I said, feeling all their eyes on me.

“You look good, bro,” Rush said, dropping his arm from my shoulders to pull Landry into his side.

The compliment was basic, just like my attire, but since Rush was the one speaking, it felt a lot less polite and a little more flattering. Up until a couple weeks ago, we couldn’t even have a conversation without arguing. But slowly, we’d been doing better, even had coffee a few times after second swim. It wasn’t at all what we used to be like, but it was something.

Settling for something. Again.

Something is better than nothing.

“Thanks,” I said, ignoring my inner spat, and glanced down at the black slim-fit trousers, white dress shirt, and black jacket. It was the best I could do on such short notice. In an attempt to look a little less parking attendant, I managed to find a wide silk tie with horizontal black and white stripes. Instead of dress shoes, I wore a pair of pristine white Air Force Ones.

“Hey.” The girl at Kruger’s side greeted me, stepping forward a little to offer her hand. “I’m Jess. We haven’t met yet.” She was tall and pretty with long dark hair curled into waves and a black floor-length dress.

“Hey,” I said, shaking her hand briefly. “Kruger’s fiancée, right?”

“Wife.” Kruger corrected me.

Everyone groaned.

“Fiancée.” She agreed. “Ben and I aren’t married yet.”

“Ben,” I murmured, looking back at Kruger.

“Bro, the fact he has two names surprised us too,” Jamie put in.

My eyes wandered over to Prism who had AirPods stuck in his ears and was dressed in black and white like me, except instead of a suit jacket, he wore a velvet blazer and no tie. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and there was a pink pocket square on his left breast. I gave him a what-up gesture with my chin, which he returned, then glanced at his boyfriend, Arsen.

If my eyes lingered on him a little longer than the rest, it was because I liked his style. Instead of your typical formal suit, he was dressed in black-and-white plaid trousers, black designer sneakers, and a V-neck polo with white trim beneath an all-black jacket. Piercings lined his ear, and two rings glinted in his lip. His hair was just as inky as his outfit, and the monochromatic look worked well for him.

I must have stared a little too long because Prism’s hand curled around his bicep in a possessive gesture.

“I like your pants,” I said stupidly as if it were an excuse to stare.

“Thanks—” Arsen started but was interrupted by Prism’s quiet voice. “He’s mine.”

A heavy beat of silence followed his soft declaration. Stunned, all eyes went to the quiet swimmer.

Clearly surprised, Arsen glanced at his boyfriend. “Princess, are you jealous?” he mused, a slight smirk tugging on the rings in his lip.

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