Auctioned to Him

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Well, a few years ago, everyone was wearing low-rise jeans and showing their hip bones. And now, it’s all about high rise,” Juliet says.

  “Yeah, that’s the cool thing about fashion. It changes all the time,” Tea adds.

  “That’s also the stressful thing about fashion,” I add. “It changes all the time.”

  I free up one plug for Juliet to plug her curling iron into and go to the living room. I don’t contour my face – just put on some foundation, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow and lipstick. That’s enough for me.

  There’s a knock at the door. When I open it, I see Tanner with a bag of alcohol and a case of beer. Since he’s the only one of us who can legally drink, he was sent out to get everything for the pre-game.

  “Pre-gaming is about to commence!” Dylan announces.

  Pre-gaming is a very important tradition in college. Since most of us aren’t legally able to buy drinks, we use the time before we go out to get a little drunk. Plus, the drinks are way cheaper this way. Dylan asks everyone what they want. I ask for a martini. Forty-five minutes later, just when we’re all ready to leave and I’m finally done with it, I’m already feeling like I had a little bit too much. Unfortunately, I keep drinking.

  12

  I open my eyes. My head is pounding as if someone is smashing on the drums with all their might a millimeter away from my eardrums. A slither of light peeks in through the blackout curtains and my eyes can barely handle it.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. My throat itches. I cough and feel the nightstand for something to drink. My hands lands on a glass. I bring it to my lips. And then take a sniff.

  Please don’t be alcohol, I say to myself. It’s not. Just water. Whew. I drink the whole glass. Finally, I manage to open my eyes a little wider. The room is pretty dark, but the light still pierces my eyes as if it’s a sword. I cover my eyes with my arm and look around.

  Where the hell am I?

  I’m sitting in a tall bed. There are suitcases all around. And French doors across from me. The place does not look familiar, however.

  My eyes dart to one side and I spot the bathroom. Carefully, I get up and walk to the bathroom. I don’t put on the lights, but I do look at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess. And not even a hot mess. My hair is completely out of place. Crumpled and sad. My make up is all smeared and I have ugly raccoon eyes. I wipe my mouth – lipstick residue comes off on the back of my hand.

  “Where is this?” I whisper.

  My eyes adjust to the muted light enough for me to stop protecting them with my hand. I look around the bathroom. It’s familiar and foreign at the same time. I feel like I’ve been here before, but not often. This is not our bathroom back at the dorm. And then I see it. My tiny, bright pink, travel-sized flat iron. And it hits me. I’m at the hotel. We’re in Atlantic City. But for some reason I’m in the room. Weren’t Tea and Tanner supposed to sleep here?

  I come back into the room. What the hell am I doing sleeping here? And everyone else sleeping there? I search my mind for answers. But it all comes up blank. I can’t remember a thing!

  “Oh shit, why is it so bright in here?” I hear someone say.

  The voice startles me. It’s quiet, but it’s definitely not coming from the outside.

  It’s coming from the bed!

  Please don’t be Tanner.

  Please don’t be Tanner.

  Please don’t be Tanner.

  When he moves the cover from his face and sits up in bed, I see that it’s not Tanner.

  It’s Dylan.

  “Dylan? What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Stop yelling! My head is killing me.”

  I give him a moment to collect his thoughts. He gets up and pulls the blackout shades shut. The slither of light is gone. My head feels a little better.

  “What are you wearing?” Dylan asks me.

  I don’t know. I didn’t even think to look. I look down. For some reason, I’m wearing a white bathing suit cover up. It’s light and airy and has tiny little spaghetti straps.

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. What I don’t reveal is that I’m also not wearing underwear.

  Dylan sits up more in bed. He’s not wearing a shirt either.

  “Are you wearing any clothes?” I ask him, cautiously.

  He rubs the back of his head. Then looks down.

  “No.” He shakes his head. He acts like it’s no big deal. Just gives out a little sigh. Clearly, he’s not fully understanding the magnitude of this situation.

  “Oh shit,” I say. “Do you think we…?”

  I can’t finish the sentence. No, we couldn’t have. Right? I try to remember something, anything, from last night. Why did I have to drink so much? The last thing I remember is staggering up some stairs at a casino (which one?) with Juliet. My phone said it was 1:30 am. Or maybe 3:30? I have no idea.

  “Do you think we what?” Dylan asks.

  His mind isn’t working well. Either that, or he’s particularly dense.

  “I’m not wearing underwear,” I decide to inform him. “And you’re naked.”

  “Oh shit,” he whispers. The expression on his face says it all. Peyton. They just got back together. This is Valentine’s Day, for crying out loud.

  “I can’t remember anything,” he says.

  “Me neither.” I shake my head.

  “You can’t tell Peyton about this. Promise me that you won’t. She’ll never forgive me.”

  I nod.

  “No, you have to promise,” he says. He’s speaking really fast. It sounds like he’s about to hyperventilate.

  “I promise. I don’t want Tristan to know either,” I say.

  Oh my God, Tristan! This is the first time he had popped into my head this whole morning.

  “Oh wow, Tristan,” Dylan mumbles. They are roommates. And really good friends. This doesn’t look right, not at all. “But maybe nothing happened,” Dylan says. “I mean, we don’t remember a thing. So maybe we were too drunk.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I mumble. “I hope you’re right.”

  I find my underwear under the bed and put it on. I turn around as Dylan puts on his clothes. I don’t want to tell him this, but this is going to be a hard one to hide. Juliet is outside and she’s our roommate. And not just our roommate, Tristan’s roommate. And if we did sleep together, the news is just too juicy for her to keep quiet. And if Tristan finds out, I’m sure that Peyton will too. He won’t be in a very forgiving mood. Besides, I’m not even sure if I want to keep it from Tristan. We’re not really together anymore.

  Dylan and I walk out of the room with hung heads. I’m actually tiptoeing. I hope that everyone is still asleep. Unfortunately, they’re not. There’s a room service cart in the middle of the room and everyone’s having breakfast.

  “Wow, look who’s up!” Juliet announces to the whole room. Tanner stops pouring his cup of coffee. Tea looks up from her magazine.

  “Hey.” I smile and wave. “Morning.”

  Without saying a word, I walk over to the opened box of donuts and grab one with cherry filling spilling out of its side. Sugar isn’t the best way to start the day, but I need a pick-me-up. A big one.

  “So…how does it feel?” Tea asks.

  Dylan and I look at each other. He has a confused look on his face. I’m equally perplexed.

  “What?” he asks.

  Okay, so maybe we had slept together, even though neither of us remembers. But how is this their business exactly? It’s not, but it doesn’t stop them from gossiping. I hate to admit it, but if Dylan and Tea slept together, I’d be all over it as well.

  “I can’t believe you two did that last night.” Tea shakes her head. She has a mischievous smile on her face.

  “We don’t remember a thing,” I finally admit. “Why were we sleeping in that room anyway? Wasn’t that supposed to be your room?”

  “Yes, but after what happened…we just thought it would be more appropriate,” Tea says with a shrug.

&n
bsp; Why is she being so mysterious?

  “What happened?” I ask. I search all of my memories from last night in an effort to find one that would explain that. But nothing comes to mind.

  “Wait, a second!” Juliet says, getting excited. Her eyes light up and she gets a big grin on her face. “Wait a second!”

  I hate how dramatic she can be sometimes. How animated.

  “Are you two really, and I mean, really, telling us that you don’t remember what happened last night?”

  Dylan and I exchange looks. We both shrug and shake our heads.

  “No,” I mumble. “Not really.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Juliet asks.

  “Um,” I say. “Walking around the casino, going up some stairs somewhere, drinking. A lot.”

  “And you?” Juliet turns to Dylan.

  “Not much else,” he says. “I don’t even remember going up any stairs.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Juliet shrieks and jumps up and down. “Oh. My. God!”

  “What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  Tea joins in Juliet’s excitement. But Tanner just stands back a little. He doesn’t shriek or jump, but he does flash me a smile. Clearly, our lack of memory is bringing everyone a great deal of joy.

  “Oh c’mon, just tell us. What happened?” Dylan says, grabbing a bagel. He starts lathering it with a generous amount of cream cheese. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Okay, okay,” Juliet says, taking a big sigh. She’s trying to calm herself down. We wait. “Okay. I can do this,” she says and then bursts out laughing.

  “C’mon!” I say. I’m losing my patience. And I’m not really in the mood anyway. It’s way too bright in this room. My head is pounding. My mouth is dry. And I’m already regretting eating half the donut, even though I continue to take additional bites.

  “Okay,” Juliet says. “You know what you did last night?”

  “No!” Dylan and I say in unison. We’re both growing more and more impatient with every second.

  “Well, let me tell you,” she says, clearly milking the moment. She should be an actress, I decide. She has epic timing. “What you two did last night was…get married!”

  Dylan drops his bagel to the floor. It falls with the cream cheese side down. I start to choke and cough. Tea hands me a cup of water. I manage to get a few sips in.

  “What?” I ask when I finally get some air. “What?”

  “You got married,” Juliet says again. Quietly this time. The tone of her voice is serious. But it feels like a joke.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “No, that can’t be. We didn’t actually get married. It was just a joke. Please, tell me it’s a joke.”

  While I have the tendency to talk and say everything that comes to mind in times of stress, Dylan, apparently, has a completely different tendency. I turn to him for some support in this. But he just stares at the wall. As if he’s frozen. Like a statue.

  “Dylan.” I pull on his shirt. “We didn’t get married. Right?”

  A moment later, he comes back to reality.

  “No, we couldn’t have,” he whispers.

  “Well, you did,” Juliet says. Her certainty frightens me.

  Tea comes over to me. She puts her arm around my shoulder.

  “You did, honey,” she says sympathetically.

  “No, no, no.” I shake my head.

  “The reason you’re wearing that dress,” Tea says, “is that you wanted to get married in white. So when Dylan asked you to marry him, and you said yes, we all went to the only place that was open in the casino and bought it.”

  “But this is a bathing suit cover-up!”

  “I know. It was a resort wear store. That was all they had,” Tea says.

  “Look at your left hand,” Juliet says.

  When I look down, I see a large diamond ring. It’s gorgeous.

  “What is that?” Dylan comes over and takes my hand.

  “You got it for her,” Juliet says. “Alice thought it would be funny to get one of those lollypop rings and let have that be her engagement ring. But you said that no wife of yours is going to have a lollypop ring. So you marched into Tiffany’s and got her that 1 and half carat diamond.”

  “Shit.” Dylan shakes his head.

  “How did this happen?” I whisper. He shrugs. “I mean, how did we even get engaged let alone get married? Why didn’t you stop us?”

  All three of them look down at the floor.

  “We were all drinking a lot,” Tea says. “And I guess it sounded like fun.”

  “Fun?” I ask.

  “It just felt like we were in a movie or something. I mean, that’s what people do in movies, not in real life,” Juliet says.

  “So, what happened? How did this happen exactly?” Dylan asks.

  “We were all drinking a lot,” Juliet says. “And suddenly you started to complain about Peyton. Or was it Alice who was complaining about Tristan?”

  “I think Alice started first and then Dylan joined in,” Tea says. Clearly, their memory isn’t that great on all this either.

  “Either way, you two were moaning about your significant others. And then Tanner said that you two would make a good couple.”

  “Tanner?” I ask.

  “Well, I don’t know you two well. And I was drinking a lot.”

  “It was just a joke,” Tea says. “But Dylan thought it was a really good idea. He started going on and on about how you two are friends and friends make the best couples. At first, you thought it was pretty funny. I went to the bathroom and came back and you two were engaged.”

  “Holy shit,” I whisper.

  13

  And then suddenly, it all starts to come back to me. Not everything, but big chunks of it. I remember sitting next to Dylan, eating sushi. I got some extra soy sauce around my mouth and he wiped it away with his finger. The moment lasted a little bit too long. I didn’t want it to stop. He leaned closer and kissed me. I kissed him back.

  “You’re such a good kisser,” I said.

  “So are you,” he said.

  “I sort of wish we could kiss longer,” I joked. And then he kissed me again. This time it was longer than a kiss. It was more like a make out session.

  I don’t know how much time passed, but when we stopped, he said, “I wish I could kiss you forever.”

  “Me too,” I mumbled.

  He looked over my shoulder and smiled.

  “There’s a wedding chapel over there,” Dylan said. “Do you think that’s a sign?”

  I shrugged. “Probably not.”

  “Well, let’s make it one,” he said. “Alice Summers, will you marry me?”

  “Are you insane?” I asked, laughing. “Don’t joke about that.”

  “I’m not joking. I like you. You like me. We’re really good at kissing. We’ll probably be even better at the other stuff.”

  “That’s one reason to get married!” I said.

  “Of course it is! We’re really good friends. And relationships are complicated. So why don’t we just marry each other?”

  “Because we’re still in college!”

  “So? Wouldn’t it be romantic?”

  And insane. And crazy. But romantic? Yes, I guessed so.

  “Besides, Tristan would hate it,” Dylan added.

  Well, if he would hate it then…I started to waver.

  “C’mon, say yes. Please say yes,” he said and kissed me again. When we pulled away this time, we were engaged.

  “This can’t be happening,” I say. Everyone’s staring at us.

  “You’re remembering it, right? I can see that,” Juliet says. I nod and drop my shoulders. “Dylan? How about you?” Juliet asks.

  “Bits and pieces,” he whispers.

  “Well, here’s your signed marriage certificate in case you forget again,” Juliet says, handing us the paper. “The minister said that you should expect to get something in the mail about it as well.”

  I have to sit down.
My head hasn’t stopped throbbing and the locomotive whistling and banging around up there now seemed to have picked up speed. I have no idea what to do about this. All I know is that I don’t want anyone to find out about it. This is so embarrassing. So humiliating. So not like me. I don’t get drunk and do crazy things like this. I’m just a regular person.

  This is all Tristan’s fault. If he hadn’t wanted us to take a break, I would never be here alone complaining to Dylan about this. I wouldn’t have ever even kissed him, let alone married him!

  Oh my God! My breaths get shallow. My heart starts to beat faster. What if Tristan finds out? He can’t find out. Ever. If he does, it will crush him. This will definitely change our status from a break to a breakup. And I don’t want to break up.

  My mind’s racing. I don’t know how to stop it. I need to lie down.

  Dylan and I ride the train back to school in silence. Neither of us is in the mood to talk. The train’s not too crowded and there’s enough room for both of us to take up entire seats. I sit across from him, in the window seat. Juliet, Tea, and Tanner are planning on taking a later train, but also come back today. No one’s really in the mood to stay too long in Atlantic City after the night we’ve all head.

  Around Elizabeth, New Jersey, my headache finally starts to fade and I can think clearer. When I look across the aisle, I see that Dylan also stopped staring out of the window like he’s unconscious.

  “How could we let this happen?” I ask, sitting down in the seat next to him. He shrugs, hangs he head. “What are you going to do?” I ask. “Are you going to tell Peyton?”

  “I have no idea,” he whispers. “We were just getting back into this really good spot. Not fighting so much. I thought we were finally over all that bullshit from last semester. And now this…it’s going to crush her.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what to do either,” I say.

  Suddenly, a look of shock and horror appears on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “You’re not actually thinking of telling Tristan, are you?” he asks.

  I shrug.

  “Alice, you can’t!” His voice aches from desperation.