Page 93 of Sugar Rush
“I know, I know,” she said, still chuckling a little as she shook her head. “He’s going to be out there without you, and everyone’s going to be looking at him and cooing over him, and you don’t want them to be.”
It was too close to the truth for me to disagree with, but also I didn’t want to validate her by saying she was right, so I just kept glaring and scowling.
“That’sexactly the kind of thing that will get better when you just stop being stubborn and-”
“I get it,” I cut her off, feeling that terrible heat rising up to my skin again. If she said the wordbiteagain, I was pretty sure I’d spontaneously combust.
“Well, when is this date happening anyway?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “The stupid fucking auction is happening right now.”
“Nownow?” She asked to clarify and I nodded slowly and miserably, shifting my glare down to the desk and my blank tablet.
“He got all dressed up in his little suit jacket and everything,” I added bitterly, only because I’d been so irked to see how adorable he’d looked. But he looked good in everything, whether it was fitted dress clothes or a ratty t-shirt he’d stolen from me to lounge around at home in.
“Did he look cute?” She asked mockingly, forcing me to slowly turn toward her with the flattest, most deadpan expression I could possibly muster.
“No,” I lied.
Sighing, though still looking completely and mortifyingly amused at me, she waved a hand toward the door out into the hallway.
“You know what, why don’t you just go?”
“Seriously?” I asked, but my muscles had already tensed like they wanted me to spring out of the chair like a striking cobra.
“Yeah, we’re dead anyway. Go make sure your precious little pop-tart isn’t being devoured by all the other evil alphas in the world,” she said, watching me jump up out of my seat. “But you’re coming in early on Sunday to do those drawings.”
“I’ll do them at home and send them to you before that,” I promised quickly. “Can I go?”
“You can go,” she conceded, jerking her chin toward the doorway again. “But for god’s sake, at least consider what I said. If not for my sanity, then for your own.”
“Fine, yeah. I’ll think about it,” I said, dashing out of the room, down the hall, and out to the parking lot into my truck. Would I think about it? Not if I could help it.
I sped down the road, wanting to floor it but also knowing that if I went too wild, my eternally bad luck would lead to me getting pulled over for the first time in my life. So I whipped toward the center as fast as I could justify, my heart banging like a drum in my chest.
When I got there, the parking lot was fuller than I’d ever seen it. I’d only been here a few times, picking Jordy up or dropping him off. I’d never been inside, but as soon as I burst through the double doors at the entrance, I could hear the raucous sounds of the auction from a few rooms over, and headed that way.
In a large event room, my eyes were immediately drawn to the stage, where bright lights were beaming down onto the three people on it. Jordy, and a middle-aged man and woman. I barely had time to take in his appearance and body language, nervous and defensive, before the woman next to him barked out a dollar amount and pointed toward someone off to the side of me in the crowd.
Some of the people who had noticed me rush in started murmuring about me, looking shocked and bewildered and judgmental. I noticed most everyone was dressed up, and the room was sparkling with fancy jewelry. My ripped jeans and black t-shirt, printed with the logo of one of my favorite metal bands, an aggressively spiky font stylized with skulls and medieval swords, were incredibly out of place. As usual, being noticed in public wasn’t doing me any favors.
When the lady on the stage asked if anyone was willing to bid just a bit higher, in that annoying too-fast auctioneer way, I shot my hand up.
She started to verbally acknowledge my raised hand, and then stopped, squinting a bit as she took in my appearance.
“Uh, sir,” she started. “This isn’t a public auction. You have to be registered to bid.”
I watched as Jordy’s eyes locked onto me, wide with shock. He cleared his throat, which I could barely hear because he was a few steps back from the mic, and tugged at her sleeve like a nervous toddler trying to get their mom’s attention.
“Um, a-actually, as long as it’s okay with you, then… It’s okay with me,” he stammered out. “I, um… I know him.”
The woman glanced at him, then back to me, then over to the other guy on the stage who was holding a clipboard. He shrugged, raising his palms up to demonstrate he didn’t have a problem with it.
“Well, alright,” she conceded, though she sounded apprehensive. “Since the participant consents, then I’ll allow it. For this auction only,” she added, to which I had to suppress a scoff. Like I’d have any interest in bidding on anyone else. But I guess they wouldn’t know that about me.
She started the process back up from the interruption, this time giving a quick head nod to my bid.
When someone off to the side outbid me again, I automatically raised my hand on the next call as I nudged through the crowd, most of whom were still muttering about me, to get a look at who I was in a bidding war with. The second I did, I immediately regretted it, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up and a wave of anger crashing into my bloodstream.
