Switch Bidder (Jock Hard 2.50)
Chapter One
Piper
“I don’t know why you’re making me do this. You know I don’t want to be here.”
“Because, Piper, we have to get you out of your comfort zone.”
“This isn’t what I had in mind.” I cross my arms stubbornly. “What if you just take me to ride a Ferris wheel—I hate those. Or, we could go touch snakes at the pet store. That would get me out of my comfort zone.”
“Listen to me.” My best friend grabs me by the shoulders and gives me a little shake, staring me hard in the eyes. Shit, she means business. “You’ve been crushing on Ryder Williams for years now. This is your chance to win him—literally. If you win him in this charity auction, he could be in our house, cleaning your floors. It doesn’t get any easier than that.”
“He’s not even in the fraternity—I don’t understand what he’s doing in this auction.”
“They’re raising money for that state-funded reading program, you big book nerd. It’s their philanthropy and I heard they called in favors so they could raise more, all hands on deck and all that.”
My heart melts a little; it’s so nice of him to participate when he’s not even part of the organization having the fundraiser.
Still.
“I can’t afford to bid on Ryder anyway. Do you know how many girls are going to be fighting for him? All of them. It’s going to be a catfight and there’s no way I’d be able to pay what someone like Bethany Wilder could pay.”
“Oh puh-lease.” Mal rolls her eyes. “Let’s not overexaggerate. He’s cute, but he’s not that cute. He’s not going for a thousand dollars—maybe a few hundred, tops.”
She says it so casually—like a few hundred dollars is nothing—that my face actually gets hot.
“It would still cost me more money than I have,” I grumble. Not that I’m going to bid on him.
“That’s why you have me—I have plenty of cash.”
“Don’t you dare—I mean it, Mallory. I’ll kill you if you do anything stupid.” Seriously. I will kill her.
She would do it, too. The girl has the biggest heart, and the biggest checking account to go along with it.
She feigns a yawn, tapping on her mouth with the palm of her dainty hand. “Ye of little faith.”
“You’re right, I have no faith in you. Remember how you promised not to sign me up for the dorm’s white water rafting trip? Then you paid for me to go without telling me? Remember that?”
“You had fun!”
“So? I said I didn’t want you to sign me up!”
“Sometimes your friends know what’s best for you.”
“I was terrified, Mallory. I literally thought I was going to drown. Then there was that time you created a dating profile for me and set me up on a date with that guy Kyle.” I shudder at how horrible the description of me was, and at how many guys swiped right because of it.
“Poor Kyle. He really liked you.”
He didn’t even know me, and he was lucky I showed up for coffee that day because Mallory had to drag me kicking and screaming after I’d found out about the online dating profile.
“My point is,” I lecture my friend, “you have to stop making promises you’re not going to keep.”
She pats me on the arm, which does nothing to soothe my nerves. “Oh relax, would you? This is supposed to be fun! F-U-N. Do you even know what that is anymore?”
Not really. I’ve been so stressed out this semester, I haven’t had time to think about having fun. I’ve studied every available second just to keep my grades up and stay eligible for my scholarships. I never claimed to be a brainiac, but I honestly didn’t think senior year would kick my ass so hard.
“I like to know the fun is coming, not get ambushed with it.”
“Well chill out—I’m here to bid on Jackson Powers, not bamboozle you into bidding on Ryder Williams.” She gestures toward the stage. “Look at him up there, that beautiful, cocky bastard.”
I do look at him. I look at them all.
Lined up on the stage are at least thirty guys, and every single one of them is cocky—and beautiful, if I’m being honest. Some of them are so painfully good-looking I have to avert my eyes.
I go down the line, one at a time, searching for Ryder Williams, the guy I’ve had a painful crush on since freshman year.
Four awkward years.
Unrequited.
Obviously, because we have never even spoken. Why would we when we have nothing in common? Plus, we don’t exactly circulate in the same crowds. I mean, we’ve been at the same parties, but it’s not like our eyes have ever met across the room. It’s not like he’d ever take one look at me and be overcome with desire.
Ryder is an athlete, big and powerful and strong. He’s an outfielder on the baseball team, and I’ve seen him smash into the outfield wall more times than I can count. He tends to limp away, almost always with the ball in his glove.