“Just leave the bit about me begging strangers for help out of your article, okay?” I asked, eyes pleading.
“That can be arranged,” he said, but only after Jessup raised his eyebrows and gave the reporter an expectant look.
In less than five minutes, Jessup had already come to my rescue twice.
7
My stomach fell when I made my way behind the curtain with the other women. I’d wildly underestimated how big of a deal everyone else was making this out to be. In a sea of stilettos and little black dresses, I stood out like a sore thumb in my flowing hippie attire and ballet flats.
One of the sororities had a professional makeup artist putting the final touches on all their members. The esthetician’s makeup kit was so large that it looked like a suitcase on wheels. I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from her while she coated her clients’ faces with a final application of setting powder and finishing spray. If you’d put them side by side with models getting ready for the catwalk at fashion week, it would have been hard to tell which group was which.
The feeling I had took me back to the talent show in second grade where I’d been terrified to go on stage even though everyone else performing with me had seemed poised and prepared. The last time I’d had stage fright, Andrew kissed me to make it better. This time, the thought of seeing him was the very thing that made me want to cut and run. Without his unexpected presence, the date auction would have merely been awkward instead of anxiety-inducing.
What was worse than the possibility of Andrew bidding on me was having another pretty face with glossy lips like Layla catch his attention and change his plans at the last minute. I might have promised myself that it was time to move on, but I wasn’t ready to see him choose someone else over me again when given the option.
Isabella swooped in and wrapped me up in a hug. While a quick squeeze was her typical greeting, this one was different. Everything about her embrace let me know she’d already seen Andrew and knew just how tightly coiled I was.
“Lookin’ good, mamacita.” She gave me a wink when she pulled away from me.
“Right back at you. You’re going to start a bidding war for sure!”
“I’m just glad I can still fit in my quinceañera dress. You like?” She spun around so that I could take her in from all angles.
She did more than just fit in it. The strapless dress with its mermaid tale looked like it was custom-made to highlight her petite frame and all her best features perfectly. I let out an appreciative whistle to show my approval. When she was done spinning and striking Madonna poses, she rummaged through her purse.
“Wrists out,” she said. I followed her orders so that she could spray them with her spicy signature scent. After, she lifted my hair from my neck and gave me an extra spritz there.
“Tongue out.”
I gave her a strange look before doing as I was told. She took some fresh breath spray from her purse and gave me two sprays so intense they made me sputter and cough.
“When I smell good, I feel more confident. You looked like you needed an extra boost.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand.
The other Vixens made their way to us, each one sleek and styled to the nines.
I pulled Latosha to the side. “Reggie has a stomach bug but told me to let you know he’d be here if he could leave his bathroom.”
“Poor guy,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Just because he couldn’t come to bid on you doesn’t mean you take him a care package, you know. If you dropped off ginger ale and saltines while you’re all dolled up, that might lift his spirits.”
“And his something else, if you know what I mean,” Shania quipped.
A volunteer called us to attention and started lining us up alphabetically by our last names. Given that mine was Daniels, I was the fourth person in line.
At least I’d get it over with quickly.
The event host was our student body president— a young politician-in-training type named Kevin that was easy on the eyes in an aw-shucks kind of way, all cowlicks and dimples. Based off the way Isabella was looking at him, it was clear she was much more interested in the master of ceremonies than she was anyone that might be out in the audience waiting with their wallet.
Kevin disappeared in front of the curtain. While we couldn’t see him, we could still hear his voice and the roar of the crowd. From the sound of it, we had a full house.
“Welcome, ladies and gents, to the fifth annual holiday date auction for charity. Last year, we raised over three thousand dollars. Do you think we can beat that this year?”
The audience whistled, clapped, and stomped their feet in agreement.
“I take that as a yes! Something tells me that when you see these beautiful and spirited ladies that we have waiting for you behind the curtain, the energy and enthusiasm in the room will only increase. Get out your cash, your card, or your checkbook, because the festivities are about to begin!
“The charity organization your money will go to this year provides services to the brave men and women that fight for your freedom when the time comes for them to re-enter civilian life. You can feel good knowing that the money you raise here today is being used for a worthy cause.
“We also want to emphasize that while you are buying a date, you can’t buy a person. While the ladies volunteering their time are also doing so for the cause, know their time is the only thing that is promised and act accordingly. At Coastal College, we hold our students to high standards both on and off campus. No disrespect to these women will be tolerated. We expect that both the auction and the dates that follow will all be in good fun.
“The lowest bid allowed is $25.00. To bid, put your paddle in the air. When I point to you, you can name your price. All money will be collected at the conclusion of the event by the Student Body Treasurer, located at the table in the back of the auditorium.
“May the festivities begin!”
Everything happened in a whirlwind.
The lowest bid for the first woman who walked out was $75.00. The brunette with the coy smile that strutted out in front of me had four different audience members bid for her, the final amount spiking all the way up to $275.00.
That’s why it felt like such a slap in the face when Andrew started his bidding a $25.00. No one else in the audience started off with the minimum possible bid for the participants that had gone before me.
It took a lot to keep my face from falling. I knew Andrew was broke and cheap, but not everyone else did. They probably assumed the low bid was a statement about me and my worth.
Almost instantly, I transitioned from disappointment to shock as multiple paddles flew into the air.
“75.00,” came from a prep in the back with a popped pink collar.
“100.00,” came from a guy I recognized from school gym. He was the one that swiped my ID at the front desk every morning when I went to use the ellipticals and the weight machines. It was flattering to think that someone that saw me when I was sleepwalking in sweatpants would think I was date material.
“300.00,” came from Jessup who stood when he announced his bid, sending a glance around the room that dared anyone to challenge him. When his eyes stopped, they were on Andrew, piercing him with a cold look of determination.
Watching their stare down made my stomach do a strange somersault.
“300.00 it is, friends,” Kevin said, shaking my hand before I made my way back behind the curtain so that the next woman could rotate into the spotlight. As each participant made her way to the stage, Kevin rattled out her name, her major, and a short bullet list of fun facts curated specifically to make her seem like any audience member’s dream girl in sixty seconds or less. Now that I’d survived my turn, I could listen to what was happening and pay attention without wanting to vomit.
I’d have given anything to see the men that were bidding on the other Vixens, but we’d been specifically instructed to stay back stage. At the end, they wanted u
s to go out and curtsy together like it was some kind of theatrical performance. In some ways, I suppose it was.
One by one, the other Vixens found their way to me after they’d each had their moment of fame.
“Tell me about your Prince Charming,” I teased Shania when she plopped down beside me.
“He looks nice enough.”
“Not your type, then?”
Shania smiled and rolled her eyes. “Probably not.”
By the end of the auction, I had both the highest winning bid and the lowest attempted bid. That wasn’t important, though.
What was?
I proved myself wrong. I didn’t need to bribe someone else into outbidding Andrew. While I knew my worth wasn’t tied up in what the strange men in the crowd thought about me, it was comforting to know that my ex wasn’t the only man alive that saw me as an eligible bachelorette.
Better than that, it felt pretty damn good to know we’d helped to raise nearly six thousand bucks.
* * *
After they were finished parading us around like fresh meat, I carved my way through the sea of people milling around in the auditorium until I found Jessup. That wasn’t exactly a difficult feat, given that he was about a head taller than almost all the other men.
He was the exact embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome.
“Thanks for coming to the rescue,” I told him, starting to reach into my purse to retrieve the money I owed him.
He put his hand on mine to stop me. “Clearly, you’d have been fine without me. I’d much rather go on a date with you than take your money,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
“On one condition.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Since you’re fresh out of a sizeable chunk of money, my condition is that you let me pay.”
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “Text me your address and I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow morning for brunch. How’s nine o’clock?”
“Early for a Saturday.”
“Then I guess you better not party too hard tonight so you can get to bed.” He winked at me before sauntering off toward the table were the student body treasurer was swamped with men trying to make their payments.
“Holy shit,” Isabella breathed behind me. “That’s your date?”
“Mhmmm,” I said, distracted by the view of Jessup from behind as he walked away. I wasn’t typically the type to ogle the opposite sex like a hormone-addled teenager, but the sight of his broad shoulders and perfect ass brought back a thirst I’d forgotten I had. It felt like my pulse and my sexual appetite were both back after almost a year of being dormant.
“Which one is your date?”
She pointed at my highly sketch teaching assistant from Principles of Agroecology. “Sawyer. Cute, right?”
“If you like the type of graduate student that suggests you bend over and hold your ankles if you want extra credit,” I muttered, unable to hide my distaste.
“Is that just a rumor or do you know it’s the case?”
The thing I loved about Isabella was her ability to see the best in people regardless of what everyone else said.
“Maybe just a rumor,” I allowed. “When you set up your date with Sawyer, promise to tell me where and when?”
“Depends. Are you going to be there hiding in the bushes?”
“You bet your sweet ass I am.”
She grinned and leaned into me. “You’re a good friend. So good I hope you don’t mind helping me get out of this dress. The damn thing is so tight that there’s no way I can wear it to dinner. One bite and the zipper would explode right off me.”
8
The Vixens and I had a tradition. At the end of each semester, we went to the local taquería and broke our diets in a serious way, splurging on all of the food and drink our hearts desired. Shania fixed up the underaged folks like me with fake IDs for the occasion but insisted we not get into the habit of using them so frequently that we’d slip up and get caught.
By the time the cab had dropped me home, I was full to the brim with flash-fried tortilla chips, queso greasy with chorizo, fresh guacamole made for us right at the table, and tacos. So many tacos. We’d ordered two of every kind and alternated bites until everyone had a chance to try a little bit of everything. The halibut tacos covered in the serrano chili crema and cilantro were my favorite, but I tried my best not to be greedy with them.
I’d behaved a bit more in the beverage department. As the designated driver for the night, I’d skipped the drinks made with Mezcal and settled for a Mexican Coke.
The others hadn’t followed suit. After a few too many margaritas, almost everyone but me was in tears at the prospect of Iman and Latosha going away. I wasn’t as close to them as I was the other girls, but it still put a lump in my throat to think that come January they’d be off in the real world as fully functioning adults, working nine-to-five jobs while the rest of us were still running around campus like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to live a little and still manage decent GPAs.
After we feasted, we burned off most of our dinner on the dance floor. Isabella had taught us all to salsa the year before, but I was still hopeless, messing up the steps while the others executed them with style and sass. I was born without rhythm but still managed to have a good time. I’d much rather look like a fool than sit on the sidelines while my friends brought down the house. As I moved my body to the beat, I imagined Jessup leaned up against the wall, watching my every move.
After dropping the Vixens off at their dorms, all of us sweaty and exhausted, I headed back to my apartment so I could call it a night.
When I made it up to the third floor and saw Andrew slouched in my doorway, the high I’d been riding since the date auction faded away. Dread took its place.
“Can I come in?” Andrew asked, his signature puppy dog eyes searching my face for some sign of weakness he could exploit.
“No. If you have something to say, you can say it out here.”
“I’m sorry about the auction. By the time I spent money on gas to get from home to campus, I only had thirty dollars left to my name. I should have borrowed money—”
I sank down beside him on the ground and leaned back against the door. “I don’t want to be hurtful, but I want to make something very clear. It wouldn’t have mattered if you put up $25.00 or $250.00. It wouldn’t have mattered if you showed up with roses riding a white horse. There’s nothing you can do to win me back.”
“What if I keep trying?”
“If you want there to be any possibility of being in my life at all, of being my friend, you have to acknowledge that you’re my ex. We’ll never be a couple again.”
“So I should just kiss the white picket fence with the dog and the kid we dreamed about goodbye?”
“You kissed them goodbye when you kissed Layla. You did this,” I reminded him.
“But we could fix it.”
“Maybe. But I’m not going to. I’m grateful for the good memories, but I’m also grateful for the time I’ve spent while you were gone getting to know myself better. I’m not the same woman you left behind when you boarded that plane. You wanted to expand your horizons. Now I do, too.”
Andrew picked at the hole in his distressed jeans and stared off into the distance, not wanting to look at me after I’d laid everything out on the table.
“Can I at least stay here tonight? Just on your couch? It’s a little late to drive all the way home.”
I was almost too tired to refuse him, but then I remembered my early wake up call for Jessup. I didn’t think it would be in good form to have Andrew answer the front door when he came knocking bright and early.
“Reggie has a couch,” I pointed out.
“And either a stomach bug or the flu.”
“Which means you could make yourself useful and help take care of him.”
Andrew grumbled and pushed himself up off the floor. “Thanks for nothing,�
�� he said.
“Drive safe.”
I was glad I’d had the conviction to stick up for myself but hated that guarding my own heart meant hurting his.
He could be an ass, but somewhere deep down, he was still the goofy kid I’d fallen for when we were children.
9
The short turnaround time between being asked on a date and the date itself meant I didn’t have a lot of time to overthink things or worry myself over what to wear. I combed through my closet until I found dark wash skinny jeans, a flowing black tunic with simple embroidery, and a chunky pastel necklace that I was long overdue in returning to Shania. I wanted to look nice but not fussy.
Instead of blow drying my hair, I lightly coated it with gel that smelled so good I wouldn’t need perfume and scrunched it into gentle waves. I’d planned to lightly apply some mascara and a hint of eyeshadow, but my doorbell rang a whole five minutes early, cutting into my primping time.
I flung my boho-style bag over my shoulder and turned off the lights on the way to the door to meet Jessup.
“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he teased as I locked the door behind me.
“That obvious I’m not a morning person, huh?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Anyone can be a morning person after a decent meal, which is what I intend to deliver. Have you ever been to the Glenwood Diner?”
I shook my head no.
“In that case, it’s definitely a good thing you met me. I’m here to deliver you from boring breakfasts.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said, trying to contain my surprise as he opened my truck door for me and patiently waited for me to get myself situated before closing it behind me. His Ford was huge and ancient, the truck bed equipped with a toolbox and tarps. If I hadn’t met him at school, I’d have assumed he was a construction worker instead of a college student based off his supplies.
I reached over and pushed his door open for him from the inside.
“Somebody’s mama taught her right.”
“I’ll tell her you approve.”
Carolina Christmas Kiss: A Vixens In Love Novella Page 4