Ava

I had almost convinced myself it wasn't weird.

Almost.

Maybe Hudson Blake knew everyone's name.

Maybe teachers used it around him.

Maybe he'd seen it on attendance sheets.

Maybe there was a perfectly normal explanation for why the most popular guy at Westbridge High knew the name of the girl who spent lunch hiding behind bookshelves.

Maybe.

The problem was that I didn't actually believe any of those things.

Because Hudson Blake wasn't the type of person who noticed girls like me.

People like Hudson noticed cheerleaders.

Homecoming queens.

Girls with perfect hair and perfect smiles.

Not the girl who accidentally walked into doors because she was reading while walking.

Twice.

In the same week.

I dropped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.

The glow-in-the-dark stars I'd stuck up there when I was twelve were still hanging on.

Some of them were peeling.

One had been dangling by a corner for at least six months.

I should probably take them down.

I never did.

My room was my favorite place in the world.

Bookshelves lined almost every wall.

Fantasy novels.

Mystery novels.

Romance novels I absolutely denied reading.

A desk covered in notebooks.

A reading nook by the window.

Soft blankets.

String lights.

A place where nobody expected me to be anything except myself.

My phone buzzed beside me.

A text from Riley.

RILEY: Emergency.

I immediately sat up.

AVA: Define emergency.

RILEY: Check your email.

AVA: Why?

RILEY: DO IT.

That was concerning.

Riley only used all caps when something catastrophic happened.

Or when Starbucks forgot her caramel drizzle.

Either way, it was never good.

I opened my email.

At first, I didn't see anything unusual.

College newsletters.

Spam.

Three reminders from teachers.

Then one subject line caught my eye.

SENIOR CHARITY DATE AUCTION PARTICIPANT CONFIRMATION

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No.

No no no.

Absolutely not.

My stomach dropped so fast it practically hit the floor.

Slowly, with the dread of someone opening their own execution notice, I clicked it.

Dear Ava Martinez,

Thank you for volunteering to participate in this year's Senior Charity Date Auction. We are excited to announce your participation alongside several other members of the senior class. The event will take place next Friday evening in the auditorium...

I didn't finish reading.

I screamed.

A tiny scream.

A quiet scream.

A horrified, dying-inside scream.

But definitely a scream.

My bedroom door immediately swung open.

My mother appeared holding a laundry basket.

"Ava?"

I looked up.

"I'm fine."

She narrowed her eyes.

"That didn't sound fine."

"I'm having a crisis."

"Homework?"

"Worse."

Her expression instantly became concerned.

"Oh."

Exactly.

Oh.

She slowly backed out of the room.

"Good luck."

Then she closed the door.

Traitor.

I stared at the email again.

The words hadn't magically disappeared.

Unfortunately.

The date auction was one of Westbridge's biggest senior events every year.

Students volunteered.

People bid money.

The proceeds went to local charities.

Everyone applauded themselves for being generous.

And then spent the next month gossiping about who got paired together.

It was social torture disguised as philanthropy.

And somehow—

Somehow—

I was in it.

I already knew exactly who was responsible.

I opened my messages.

AVA: You did this.

RILEY: Maybe.

AVA: RILEY.

RILEY: In my defense it was hilarious.

AVA: I AM GOING TO DIE.

RILEY: Dramatic.

AVA: THEY ARE AUCTIONING ME.

RILEY: For charity.

AVA: THAT DOESN'T HELP.

RILEY: I signed up too.

AVA: THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER.

RILEY: It kinda does.

AVA: NO.

Three dots appeared.

Then vanished.

Then appeared again.

RILEY: Maybe some cute guy will bid on you.

AVA: I hate you.

RILEY: Love you too.

AVA: I'm blocking your number.

RILEY: You'll miss me.

AVA: Worth it.

RILEY: You cried during Toy Story 3.

AVA: LOW BLOW.

RILEY: Remember who has embarrassing photos.

AVA: I hope your pillow is warm tonight.

RILEY: Monster.

I tossed my phone onto the bed.

Then immediately grabbed it again.

Because despite everything, Riley was my best friend.

And unfortunately, she knew it.

I flopped backward.

Maybe I could fake being sick.

Maybe I could move.

Maybe witness protection accepted high school seniors.

All reasonable possibilities.

My phone buzzed again.

Another text.

Unknown Number.

My stomach twisted.

UNKNOWN: Heard you're in the auction.

I frowned.

UNKNOWN: Good luck.

UNKNOWN: You're gonna need it.

My eyes widened.

UNKNOWN: The seniors are already making bets.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

I blocked the number instantly.

Then stared at the ceiling.

Were the seniors making bets?

Of course they were.

Because high school wasn't humiliating enough already.

The next morning was somehow worse.

The second I stepped onto campus, I knew something was wrong.

People were looking at me.

Not staring.

But glancing.

Whispering.

Then glancing again.

I hated it immediately.

By the time I reached my locker, my anxiety was preparing for battle.

"Good morning, Auction Girl."

I froze.

Riley appeared beside me.

I glared.

"Don't call me that."

"Fine."

She grinned.

"Date Auction Princess."

"Worse."

"Your Highness?"

I slammed my locker shut.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"A little."

I groaned.

Then something caught my attention.

A flyer was taped to the hallway wall.

SENIOR CHARITY DATE AUCTION

FEATURED PARTICIPANTS

My stomach sank.

There were pictures.

Student photos.

Names.

A list.

And there I was.

Ava Martinez.

Publicly displayed for the entire school.

I wanted to evaporate.

Immediately.

"Oh my God."

"I know."

"I'm on a poster."

"I know."

"People can see it."

"That is generally how posters work."

I hated her.

Lovingly.

But still.

Then the hallway suddenly got louder.

The crowd shifted.

Students moved aside.

And every instinct I possessed told me exactly who was coming.

Football players.

A whole pack of them.

Wonderful.

Right in the center—

Hudson Blake.

Laughing at something his friends were saying.

His backpack was slung over one shoulder.

Looking annoyingly attractive for eight in the morning.

Then something impossible happened.

His eyes found mine.

Directly.

Across the hallway.

My heart immediately forgot how to function.

For one second, he looked surprised.

Then amused.

Then—

He smiled.

Actually smiled.

At me.

Not past me.

Not at someone behind me.

At me.

I quickly looked away.

Because absolutely not.

When I glanced back, he was still looking.

Then one of his teammates said something.

Hudson laughed.

The moment ended.

But my pulse didn't get the memo.

"Interesting," Riley said.

"No."

"That looked like something."

"It wasn't."

"It definitely was."

"It definitely wasn't."

She grinned.

I hated that grin.

Because it was the grin she got right before chaos happened.

And unfortunately for me—

Riley Bennett loved chaos.

What I didn't know was that by lunchtime, a prank that started as a joke was already spreading through the senior class.

And somehow, for reasons nobody bothered explaining to me, Hudson Blake's name was becoming attached to mine.

Which was ridiculous.

Impossible.

And potentially disastrous.

Because if there was one thing worse than participating in a date auction—

It was becoming the punchline of the entire school's favorite prank.