Fresh

by Margot Wood

  And there are a lot of them.

  I might be screwed here. In the fucked kind of way. I recognize the sparkly top of the girl I hooked up with in the bathroom at the first party in Allston back in September. I think her name is Lottie, and I never did get her last name. I see Anders, Yvonne, Tobin, and a few other people I slept with looking particularly salty, and in the third row is Eva, the girl who had her first sapphic experience with me. She won’t even look at me.

  And then I spot him.

  Sitting at a table, alone, in a dark corner in the back is Nico. I can’t see his face clearly, he’s too far away, so I shoot him a please, for the love of god, bid on me look, but he doesn’t make a move. I frantically look around for anyone, anyone who can save me from this humiliation but there’s no one. I am literally living out everyone’s worst nightmare. And then from somewhere in the back of the room, I hear someone call out, “Slut!” and it lands like a bomb.

  Now I am living out my own worst nightmare.

  I run back to the stand and try to put the mic back on and it keeps falling off and I’m trying to fix it but then I hear laughter and fuck this fucking situation. I throw the mic on the ground and just as I’m about to jump off the edge of the stage and sprint out the side emergency exit, someone bids on me.

  “One hundred dollars!”

  I squint and peer across the audience to see who saved me. I look to where Nico is sitting but he’s already gone. No one in the audience is standing or making any kind of motion to identify themselves, in fact they are all looking around too. They’re just as confused as I am. Did I make up someone bidding on me? I am dangerously close to crying in front of everyone. But then I see movement to my left. The curtain is pulled aside and Rose steps out onto the stage holding a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill in her hand for everyone to see.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper to her as she approaches me.

  “I’m bidding on you,” she says while she smiles warmly out to the crowd.

  “You can’t bid in your own auction!”

  “I can and I just did so shut up and let me win a date with you.” Rose’s cohost reappears on the stage and takes her one hundred dollars. Everyone in the crowd claps politely and the DJ starts playing our exit music. And it’s over. My nightmare is over.

  Rose takes my hand and we leave the stage together.

  There’s a date-auction after-party at an apartment in Kenmore Square because of course there is.

  As soon as I arrive, I toss back the last three little bottles of booze from my fanny pack, fast tracking me right to Three-Drink Elliot, the appropriate stage for right now, because I am pissed off and bitter about the fact that no one bid on me tonight and I was slut-shamed in front of an audience. I shouldn’t be here, I don’t feel like partying, but Sasha and Lucy talked me into making an appearance instead of hiding. So I’m here, I’m not hiding, but I have found a quiet corner in the living room where I can settle into the darkness and watch the party without actively participating in it.

  I thought I had reached the bottom at the end of last semester, but apparently my feelings have subterranean levels. What happened with Kenton, Lucy, Micah, my grades—all that was private, but what happened tonight was public. Reader, I think you know by now I’m not shy about telling people embarrassing personal info. But it’s different when it’s not my choice to tell, when everyone’s reveling in my humiliation. To be down here again in this low, miserable place after I was finally turning things around is so defeating. I am in no mood to make small talk tonight and it seems as though most everyone has picked up on that by the way I’m being avoided. But shit, Micah and the guy he bought and paid for are walking toward me. I dig through my fanny pack, hoping to find one last bottle of vodka I may have missed, but I come up empty. Dammit.

  “Elliot, I want you to meet Simon,” Micah says. The cute, blond, white guy holding Micah’s hand comes out from behind him and gives me a smile. I wish I could meet him under different circumstances, but right now I am not in the mood to be charming.

  “You must be the guy Micah won during the auction,” I say as I shake his hand. “Is this part of the date he won or will you be billing him for this evening’s services later?” As soon as it’s out of my mouth I regret it.

  Micah brushes me off and kisses Simon on the cheek. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to the Sour Patch Kid over here, she’s just pissed that our RA had to mercy bid on her at the auction because no one else would.”

  I glare at him. “Thanks for the reminder, dick.”

  “Bitch, what did you expect? You’ve hooked up with half the school!”

  “Bitch, you are one to talk!” I lob back. Simon takes a cautious step away from us.

  “At least my dating pool is wider,” Micah says. “I hook up outside the Emerson hemisphere. Your problem is you’re too lazy to go looking for ass outside the Little Building.”

  Simon pretends someone is calling for him and excuses himself. I don’t blame him. I’d run away from me too. Micah watches him go and I can see it there, written all over his face. He likes Simon.

  “Hey,” I reach out and touch Micah’s arm. “I’m sorry for that. I am, just, I am in a real shit mood right now. Please apologize to Simon for me. He seems cool.”

  “He is cool,” Micah confirms. “And lady, you don’t need to worry about me. I can handle your flavor of salt, especially given the level of humiliation you endured tonight. But I am a little concerned you’re not okay. Do I need to worry about you?”

  “I am not okay—but I will be,” I admit. Micah reaches out and pulls me into a hug. After a minute, he lets me go and I ask, “Do you think the way I ended things with Nico was bad?”

  “Well . . . ,” he starts but when he doesn’t finish, I give him a look. “You didn’t exactly end things with Nico. You ghosted him.”

  “Is there a difference?” I ask.

  “Yes! Ghosting is so much worse!”

  “Oh,” I say.

  Oh my god.

  Oh shit.

  Nico isn’t the only one I ghosted. I ghosted all of them. I can’t even recall the names of half the people I’ve hooked up with this year. It all makes sense now. No wonder they all looked pissed. I wouldn’t have bid on me either.

  “You guys dated for what, a few weeks?” Micah asks. “And then after ghosting him, the first time he sees you is up there auctioning yourself off for a date? Lady, I love you and you know I’m all for free love, but the way you handled things with Nico was—

  “Shitty,” I say. “You’re right. I was being shitty. Thanks for being real with me.”

  “Anytime, but you shouldn’t be talking to me about it. You should talk to him.” Micah steps aside and nods toward the door where I see Nico step outside the apartment. And just then, the memory flashes before me. The look on Nico’s face when he saw me standing up there . . . I can’t get the image out of my head. It makes me want to curl up and die a little. He looked hurt, really fucking hurt. And I’m the one who hurt him. To me, what we had was never truly serious, but by the way Nico looked at me up on that stage tonight, it’s clear it meant much more to him. Micah’s right. I shouldn’t be having this conversation with him.

  “Thanks, Micah,” I say as I take off after Nico.

  I find him sitting on the stoop outside the apartment building, smoking a cigarette. A real one, an old-school hand-rolled one. He hears me approach and spins around. I try to read his face, but he is stone cold. I expect him to tell me to go away or flee at the sight of me, but he just sits there on the stoop blowing smoke rings.

  “Since when do you smoke cigarettes?” I ask as I take a seat next to him.

  He takes another drag. “Since you stopped texting me back.” Ouch.

  “I’m sorry about that.” I pull my legs up and rest my head on my knees, looking down at the cracked sidewalk below me. “I’m learning this year that I can be a real asshole.”

  “Yeah, you are,” Nico says and I wince. He flicks
the cigarette butt onto the wet grass and we remain in silence. I can hear muffled voices and thumping bass from the party above us, and it makes me wonder if Boston has actual, real residents or if the entire population is made up of drunk college students. He pulls out another cigarette and offers it to me but I decline. He lights up and inhales as he leans back on his elbows. After a minute, he starts talking to me again.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I already know what he’s going to ask. “Why did I ghost you?”

  He nods. “Yeah . . .”

  “Ohhhhh, who the hell knows,” I start to make a joke but stop myself. I dicked Nico over. I owe him a real answer, real closure. “This doesn’t excuse the way I treated you, but I think I wasn’t ready for you. I wanted it to work out with you, truly, I did, but the idea of a real relationship and commitment scared me and I bolted. I’ve got a lot of weird issues.” I lean back too and bump my knees against his. “Or it could have been the fact that you suck at giving head,” I tease.

  Nico chokes on the cigarette. “WHAT?!?! No! You totally came that night!”

  “I’m sorry to inform you, but that’s not true.”

  He waves his hands dramatically. “No, no way. I’m not buying it. I have a perfect record with the ladies, including you.”

  “Are you familiar with the diner scene in the movie When Harry Met Sally?”

  “No,” he says.

  “Well, let’s just say if I wanted to, I could finally declare a major . . . in acting.”

  He stares at me, shock written all over his handsome face. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “Afraid not.” He stares out into the darkness for a moment, no doubt replaying every sexual experience he’s ever had to figure out if the ladies were faking it or not. He brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a very lonnnnngggg breath.

  “Shit, Elliot,” he says. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have tried to do it better, you know.”

  “I know, I know. That’s on me, not you. I built up so much pressure in my head that it became impossible to relax and I could never get past that. I could never be myself around you and I never knew how to tell you.” I nudge him again. I want to look him in the eyes as I apologize. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You deserve better than that. You are a solid dude and any girl would be lucky to have you.”

  “I know,” he says but it doesn’t come out cocky. “You missed out on all this,” he says, showing off his whole body and I laugh because it’s true. I am missing out on all that. He finishes his cigarette and stands, brushing the ashes off his pants. “You coming back in?” he asks but I shake my head.

  “Nah, I think I’m gonna hang out for a little while longer, but you go on ahead.”

  “See you around, Elliot,” he says and he gives me a small, bittersweet smile as he heads back inside.

  Maybe Three-Drink Elliot has burned off a little alcohol and I’m back down to One- or Two-Drink Elliot because I actually feel, like, 5 percent better. Don’t get me wrong, it’s only 5 percent; I’m still way deep down in the muck of my own making, but it’s something.

  * * *

  1 FOR CHARITY.

  2 Yes, I have a plan. Of course I have a plan! You think I’d let my emotionally fragile best friend get up onstage without so much as a guarantee of a bidder? Reader, please. I took every last cent from my bank account, the $300 I promised Lucy I would use to bid on her, and gave it to this cute guy named Jesse I met in one of my classes. He’s been instructed to bid on her if and only if no one else does. My plan is foolproof.

  CHAPTER 20

  “So when are you going on your date with Rose?” Lucy asks as we cross over the Boston Public Garden bridge. It’s been a week since the auction, seven days since I was slut-shamed and publicly humiliated and Lucy’s solution to help me process this emotional blow is to run through the Boston Common. Run. As in, move at a speed faster than a walk. Why the hell did I agree to this? This is worse than the auction—wait, that’s a lie—no, I was correct the first time—this is worse than the auction. My face is so cold, my butt is sweaty, and my teeth, knees, back, and brain hurt so bad and oooooohmygod, I want to die.

  “She has a girlfriend, remember?!” I wheeze in between each word as I struggle to keep up with Lucy.

  “Well, if that’s still true, then what the heck was she doing by bidding on you at the auction?”

  “It was just a mercy bid! It meant nothing! I think she felt obligated to because the only other option was to push me out to sea on a tiny wood boat and shoot a flaming arrow at my head.” I barely get the joke out due to all the panting. I stop trying to keep up with Lucy and fall onto a bench in the middle of the park. It takes Lucy several yards to realize I abandoned her, and she doubles back and starts doing that thing runners do where they jog in place and check their heart rate.

  “What are you gonna do?” Lucy asks without wheezing once.

  “I just need to get through the last two months of school and then I can forget all about Rose, but let’s not talk about me anymore. New subject please!”

  Lucy gives me a pitying look but obliges. “I went to Pho Pasteur for lunch today with Micah and Simon,” she says as she swings her right leg up on the bench and starts stretching. “I sat across from those two lovebirds for two hours and listened as they finished each other’s sentences. It was so cute.”

  “I can’t believe they already declared their relationship on Instagram. I mean, the auction was only a week ago,” I say but catch myself. “Sorry, I’m trying to be less cynical these days. I guess when you know, you know. You know? I mean, how long did it take for you and Kenton to call each other boyfriend and—” I stop myself as soon as I realize my error. “Shit. Sorry Luce, I didn’t mean to bring him up.” I wait for her to react, to swell up and cry and go numb like she has done so many other times this semester, but she doesn’t. She keeps on stretching. This girl is strong as hell.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says like it’s no big deal. “And speaking of the auction, I’ve been meaning to thank you.” She stops stretching and joins me on the bench.

  “For what?”

  “I know what you did.” She nudges me with her elbow. “I know you gave Jesse the $300 to bid on me.”

  I don’t even bother to pretend I’m innocent. “What?! No! How the hell did you find out?!”

  “Well, for starters, he told me, like, the second we got backstage.” Fucking Jesse. “And then there’s the fact that you made us all stop at the lobby ATM before heading down to the theater.” She gives me a look. “I saw you take the exact same amount out.”

  “So much for my foolproof plan,” I lament. “I’m sorry if you’re insulted or anything; I didn’t want you to live out the horror of not being bid on—which of course, as you may have heard, I now have firsthand experience with. You only did the auction because of me and I wanted to make sure you felt good about yourself.”

  “And I appreciate that!” Lucy dips her head and rests it on my shoulder. I lean my head on hers. “But my decision to do the auction had nothing to do with you. Sure, you were the one to tell me about it, but I chose to do it because I was ready to put myself back out there again.”

  “I’m glad because for a while there I was worried you’d never be ready. I was this close to calling your mom.” She pulls away and looks at me in horror.

  “You almost called Carol?”

  “My god, Lucy, you skipped some classes! YOU! SKIPPED CLASSES!”

  “What are you talking about? I never skipped any classes.” Lucy looks at me confused. And I look at her confused and then we look at each other confused.

  “Your Tuesday and Thursday schedules are doubled because of your marketing classes. But you were always back in the room when you should have been in class!” I tell her, and then her face floods with relief and understanding.

  “Ohmygod! Elliot, I didn’t skip classes. At the start of this semester I dropped my second major down
to a minor.”

  “But on the stage at the auction, I could have sworn I heard you say you were still double majoring.”

  “The first rule of marketing is to know your audience and the second rule is to make your product or service sound better than it actually is.”

  Now it’s my turn to give her a look. “Is that really a rule?”

  “No, but it should be. It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah it did, the dudes were all over your junk that night! Did you hear how much Brad bid on you?! I had no idea he was even into you like that.”

  “I didn’t either,” she says and then a coy smile appears. “But I’m glad he did.”

  I slam my fist down on the bench. “TELL ME EVERYTHING.”

  OH.

  MY.

  GOD.

  Lucy has had tender chicken for Brad since chapter 4 and I completely forgot about it until a sentence ago. Here’s how this crush has developed off-page: Lucy may have put her Brad Feels on the back burner when she was with [insert your favorite insult here], but ever since Brad and I started hanging out after our screenwriting class this semester, he’s been much more present in our lives, and slowly but surely, he made his way to Lucy’s front burner.1 And since Brad was willing to drop major dough on our dear Lucy at the auction, I am willing to bet he has tender chicken for her too. However! It appears as though neither of our lovebirds has admitted this to the other yet, so . . .

  I think you know what’s about to happen.

  I cashed in every favor, used every connection, begged, pleaded, and bribed my way into convincing Micah to throw a party. This is how it went down: