Highest Bidder

“What happened to your hair?” I asked as I walked up to him. “It was neon pink.”

“Yeah, changed it three weeks ago,” he said, his smile awkward. “Why are you talking to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve passed by each other multiple times and you’ve looked right through me.”

I shook my head. “Oh, I definitely did not see you. I would have said hello, otherwise.”

“We’ve literally been in the others line of vision and you just walked past.”

“I’m really sorry I did that,” I apologized. “For the past year, I’ve been working two jobs plus classes, so I was more like a zombie than a human being.”

For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to prolong the beef, but then he shrugged and called a truce with his boyish grin. “We’re heading out to Blue boat for a pint and maybe to discuss the project. Come along.”

“Where’s Blue boat?”

“It’s the Pendle residence pub close to the library. You don’t know it?”

My smile was apologetic. “Maybe it’s because I live off campus.”

“You’ve been here almost two years now.”

I smiled. “Stop making me feel like I’ve missed out on everything.”

“You probably have,” he said. “But not tonight. Wanna go?”

There were three other girls on our team, all of whom Abel was acquainted with, so I was introduced, and we were all on our way. It was only a fifteen-minute walk then I was seated with a glass of wine before me. The others teased me about being fancy, but I couldn’t stomach beer. Since I could afford wine now, all was well.

“I heard you're bloody rich,” a man’s voice bellowed.

My heart seized, and I turned around to see one of the boys from another team had come over. I could also see that he was just a bit tipsy as he tried to pull out a chair several times, but missed the handle. I didn’t want him to sit down, but fear fluttered in my chest at the possibility that someone had spotted me that night at the club and knew what I had received.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

“Your father,” he said with a wet mouth.

Relief surged through my body as I rose to my feet and took my drink along with me. Unfortunately, in my rush to put distance between the idiot and myself I bumped into another student and spilled my blood red wine on the front of his rusty corduroy jacket. My eyes were agape with horror as l watched the liquid soak into his outfit.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, horrified. “Can I get some napkins please?” I called out to the bartender, but he was too busy. I found some serviettes on a table and brought it to him. He took the serviettes from me and smiled. “It’s alright,” he said, taking his jacket off. “Now I have a reason to force you to have a drink with me.”

I hesitated.

“I may or may not have allowed that to purposely happen.”

I laughed. “You do know you’re not helping your case at all.”

He laughed too. “What can I say? I’m a moron.”

“Nah,” I refuted and took a seat. He was a nice guy giving out good vibes and I felt comfortable with him. If Brent was straight whiskey, this guy was a glass of fresh wholesome milk.

We got to talking about how I chucked all the fun by living off campus and missed out on probably the most exciting time of my life. There was time to make up for it now that I’d met him, he told me with a grin. To avoid his eyes, I looked up to the bar’s muted television and Brent Lucan being reported on television.

Time stopped.

I couldn’t hear what the caster was saying, but I didn't need to. It looked like he had once again been spotted with Judi Mirren at some posh restaurant in Pimlico. It was nothing new as their relationship had constantly been the talk of the town over the last two years, and made to continuously blaze since neither of them had ever denied or confirmed any of the relationship rumors that constantly besieged them.

I’d always been able to ignore it, as it had nothing to do with me, but not now. Technically, it still had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I couldn’t look away. I watched, the taste in my mouth going completely sour as he and the actress exited the restaurant together. He pulled open the door to a black SUV for her and then went over to the driver’s seat to buckle himself in. They zoomed off, but not before the cameras caught Brent’s irritated expression through the windscreen.

I quickly took my hand away from my glass of wine before I cracked the stem in two. The hurt that twisted my insides numbed me to all else, especially the boy by my side who was carrying on with his monologue without noticing how utterly devastated I felt. Suddenly, the lively chatter of the bar and the excitement of my teammates a short distance away made me feel like I was an outsider who didn’t belong. I drained the glass, excused myself from the boy’s presence and went up to the bar for a refill.

The joy was completely gone from me as I fought the tears that wanted to well up in my eyes when I faced the truth: I could never have him. Two more glasses later, I headed over to the bathroom. I had no need for the visit except to hover over the delete button against Brent’s number. I wanted to press it. I swear, I did. I tried to rouse all kinds of fury at him. He was rude, arrogant, brutish and cold and … I glared at the number.