Page 29

Epilogue p1

King of the Block

Oz fidgeted on the little stage that'd been set up in the chapter room, clearly uncomfortable. No matter how sexy Logan tried to reassure his boyfriend the rented tux looked on him, Oz stood like he was awaiting his execution, rather than the auction block for their fraternity's big charity fundraiser.

At least Logan managed to convince Oz to wear a pair of his kicks, instead of the battered and scuffed dress shoes that the rental place had offered alongside the suit. Not the brand new Series Elevens Arthur had brought by — Oz had threatened to shuffle around in his own beat-up sneakers before wearing those. But he'd given in when Logan had dug out the Break Low's in Charged Neon from the bottom of his closet, promising they'd only cost Logan fifty bucks when he'd picked them up in the store. And sure, maybe he'd left out that they'd easily go for ten times that price now after the manufacturer's factory had caught on fire, but…

What Oz doesn't know won't hurt him, Logan thought as, shifting, he adjusted himself surreptitiously, eyes never leaving the sight of Oz wearing his sneakers. A thoroughly pleased smile curved his lips, a squad of little voices chanting in the back of his head; M-I-N-E! Mine! Mine! Mine!

J ust have to find some way to make it up to him, if Oz ever finds out

"Dude," Ashton said from Logan's other side. "When did Oz get nice sneakers?"

"Aren't those your kicks?" Noah asked Logan, wandering over from where he'd been chatting with his parents and some other alumni.

Careful to appear neutral, Logan nodded. "Mix up at the rental place. He needed something in a hurry."

"Hope he offered to do your laundry for the rest of the year or something to repay you," Ashton murmured, the corners of his mouth tightening in a jealous frown.

"Forget laundry, I hope he offered to blow you the year of the year," Noah said, staring at Oz with a similarly sharp look. "Hell, until graduation. You know I'd have just bought him a new pair of Schnikis or something for a shot at borrowing those tonight, right?"

Logan shrugged.

"He looks terrified up there," Ashton pointed out. Noah nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"Yeah. He's…kinda nervous no one's going to bid for him," Logan replied, frowning. "His parents were supposed to come to this thing, and I think he was counting on them as a sort of 'worst case scenario'. But they haven't arrived yet."

"Oh, people are always coming fashionably late to these things." Ashton smirked. "I bet they'll be here soon. Eventually."

Eyes narrowing at the smugness filling Ashton's voice, Logan glanced over at the other man. "You know something I don't?"

But Ashton just shrugged. "Me? Nothing. Well, nothing provable. But there's a rumor his folks might've gotten a phone message about tonight's event being postponed until next week, due to… I think you said house repairs?" he asked, turning to Noah.

"Undefined 'plumbing problems'," Noah supplied. "There's always something wonky about the pipes in this old place, and no one ever asks for the details."

"Good call," Ashton told him, grinning.

"Poor Oz." Noah's voice dripped with insincerity and mock empathy. "Looks like the bank of mommy and daddy isn't going to be able to bail him out.

"Didn't your Dad win the bidding when it was your turn up on that block?" Logan asked, knowing full well it was even without hearing Noah's petulantly muttered, "Shut up."

Turns out Noah's father was co-owner of an S1 racing team. Who knew? The eight hundred bucks he'd dropped on Noah tonight probably wasn't a drop in the bucket for someone like him, either. It was currently the auction's highest bid, though, netting Noah the obnoxiously garish cowbell hanging from the wide navy ribbon looped around his neck. It bore "Blue Ribbon Bull" stamped right in the middle of the boxy, golden bell — the title given to the brother who earned the yearly auction's highest bid.

'Bank of mommy and daddy', my ass

"I'm just saying, tonight will finally prove to everyone the truth about the little twerp," Noah said, a smarmy grin twisting up his lips.

"Oh, yeah?" Logan prodded, hands curling into fists at his sides at Noah's snide tone. "And what's that supposed to be?"

"No one will bid on him," Ashton answered coolly. "And then everyone will see just how completely worthless he is."

"Fuck off," Logan bit out, frowning. "Oz isn't worthless."

He's worth more than the two of you clowns combined, Logan carefully didn't say, not yet sure he was willing to open himself up to the sort of jokes he knew such a declaration would inspire.

For all that they were pompous jerks, Ashton and Noah weren't stupid. If Logan wasn't careful, they'd put two and two together, and get —

"Look, I know you've taken him on as some kind of charity case, Logan; dragging him out of his room to our parties and all," Ashton turned to whisper, oblivious to the increasing punchability of his smug, irritating face. "It's very noble. But even you've got to admit: he just… He doesn't represent Mu Tau Rho's values , does he?"

White hot fury surged up Logan's spine at the emphasis Ashton laid on 'values', filling his vision. He breathed slowly, carefully unclenching his fists as he reminded himself what a bad idea it would be to break Ashton's nose. At least, not in front of so many witnesses.

Logan eyed Ashton's toothpaste commercial grin.

Maybe knock out a few teeth, too

But he and Oz had worked too hard to bring Logan's grades up. To help Logan stay eligible to play on the football team. Be a shame to ruin all that now just because Logan couldn't keep his head, no matter how well deserved it might be.

Damn satisfying, though

"Then maybe those 'values' are wrong," Logan tried to argue instead, his voice low. "Maybe it's time for the standard to change."

Ashton watched Logan incredulously. "Good grief, he's really done a number on you, huh?"

"Is that why he's been showing up to stuff lately?" Noah smirked. "We've all been wondering. He offer to suck your cock if you let him tag along?"

"Eat a dick," Logan muttered, his face practically glowing with embarrassment as he turned his attention back to Oz.

"Think that's more your roommate's area of expertise." Ashton laughed.

Logan tried to think of a way to distract them, to get them off his case, but he drew a blank.

They don't even know anything worth knowing. They're just making jokes. They don't even believe what they say. And Oz had to put up with for FOUR. YEARS?* Damn.

"There's a flaw in your plan," Logan realized suddenly.

"How so?"

"It's a charity fundraiser," Logan pointed out. " Someone's bound to bid on him, right — even if it's only a few bucks? Seeing how it's all for a good cause."

Ashton shrugged, leaning against the wall.

"I mean, he isn't exactly the hottest guy up there," Ashton replied. "And… he's just not Mu Tau Rho material, y'know? If it wasn't for you dragging him around in your shadow, I'm not sure half the guys here would even know his name."

"You don't think maybe someone will bid fifty bucks, just to have extra hands to come help with yardwork or something for a day?"

"Who knows? Usually, the guests focus their bids on the person who invited them. Besides, who's going to ask a scarecrow like him to do yardwork? Right now, Wally looks as if he could be knocked over by a stiff wind."

"His name is Oz." Logan scowled at him.

"What I meant is, there's a lot of competition here. Competition who brought guests with deep pockets. He doesn't have a chance of winning 'Blue Ribbon Bull', is all I'm saying. And then, of course, there's you."

Logan flushed hotly, ducking his head. The guys in charge of the Cattle Call had saved their ace football star for last, putting Logan's name down as the 'Last Call' of the night. It was the spot usually reserved for the most attractive guy, or the one the frat had the most faith in, practically guaranteed to bring in the highest bids.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his eyes locked on Oz as the auction began. "And then there's me."

"All right, ladies and gentlemen!" the auctioneer called out. "Here we have another pledge up the auction block for the first time. It says here that Oz Mercer is an English major whose interests include… ' examining the underlying nation-building mythological narratives found in Arthurian legends and pulp fiction novels of the American west '. Well! Um…" The auctioneer paused, taking a closer look at his printed sheet.

Logan snorted. Yeah, that sounded like Oz, alright. Most of the guys had just put 'video games', 'sports', or 'movies'.

Gotta hand it to Oz. He never seems to miss a chance to nerd it up , Logan thought fondly. Even when it painted a target on his back —

"… Let's start the bidding at one hundred, then," the auctioneer announced.

— when it meant he could be embarrassed —

"One hundred, ladies and gentlemen."

— or humiliated —

"Do I hear one hundred? One hundred dollars for a date with this gentleman."

— or hurt —

"How about for ninety?"

— he refuses to be anything less than himself —

"Eighty dollars, folks, and all of it goes to charity!"

— even when it means he'll be left standing —

"How about sixty-five?" the auctioneer asked, and Logan blinked. "Perhaps he could come as a special guest for your book club?"

— alone

The look on Oz's face as the bid was lowered made Logan's heart wrench in his chest; tighter and tighter as the auctioneer dropped the bid to fifty, and then thirty-five.

"What about twenty? Any offers at twenty? The price of a pizza and he's yours," the auctioneer said, and Logan saw his boyfriend flinch.

"Come on," Logan whispered. "Someone. Anyone. Please ."

"Anyone? Anyone?" the auctioneer intoned, and Logan's fists clenched, his jaw tightening as —

"One hundred," a voice rang out.

Logan blinked, realizing it was his.

"One hundred dollars," the auctioneer repeated with relief clear in his tone. "Thank you, sir. It's for a good cause, after all."

The crowd tittered and laughed, and Logan watched the color flood back into Oz's cheeks, his face turning bright red.

"All right," the auctioneer declared. "We have one hundred. One hundred dollars, now — do I hear one fifty?"

"One fifty!" a female voice called out, eliciting a few laughs.

"Two hundred!" the male voice next to her yelled.

"Two fifty!"

"Four hundred," a gruff voice intoned, and the room went quiet.

Logan looked over at the voice's owner. Noah's dad smirked back at Logan and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Noah hissed excitedly, clicking his phone off. Though not before Logan could see the messages screen, which meant he'd been texting. "Gonna make him wait on me hand and foot like a personal butler all day. He'll drop out of the house so fast your head'll spin."

"Any counterbids?" the auctioneer asked, looking over to Logan, whose stomach clenched, and he swallowed.

"Maybe I'll have him wear a costume. You think they sell those maid getups in his size?"

"Dude, you still want to buy that pair of Mark IV #PumpEmUps x The Milk Collective high tops I got last month?" Logan hissed at Ashton. "Get me five hundred in cash right now, and they're yours."

Ashton's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

"I just saw those go for six online," Noah said, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah," Logan replied. "But cash is king, right?"

Ashton grimaced.

"Fuck, Logan!" Noah laughed. "You spend this much on your roommate, and folks are gonna think you're dating."

"So?" Logan gritted out.

"Four hundred, going once —" the auctioneer started, and the man's smirk widened.

"Only five hundred, Ashton," Logan goaded him. "Rare colorway. Still mint in box."

"I don't keep cash around," Ashton blew out a breath. "But I — I can raid the party funds, just as long as I have it back before anyone checks…"

"That's your business," Logan shrugged. "Otherwise, I'll list them online tomorrow, and you'll have to take your chanceswith the rest of the sneakerheads. You willing to risk the L? Or nab yourself a guaranteed win?"