Bidding on Mr. Right

Chapter 1

I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m., though midnight had barely struck. Usually, I'd be dead to the world until at least 7:00, but tomorrow wasn't just any day. Tomorrow, I'd be walking across the stage, clutching a diploma that marked the end of an era – college graduation. 

But all I felt was a gnawing anxiety twisting in my gut.

Tossing and turning had done nothing to quell the restless energy buzzing through me, so I surrendered to the siren call of my phone. Instagram, the ultimate escape hatch from reality, beckoned. I scrolled through an endless stream of picture-perfect lives: influencers posing in designer clothes, travel bloggers exploring exotic locales, and those ridiculously photogenic couples who seemed to exist solely to make everyone else feel hopelessly single.

A video of a sunset proposal popped up, the woman's tear-streaked face a testament to a love I'd never known. A familiar pang of envy echoed through me. Sure, I had the mansion, the overflowing closet, the trust fund that could finance a lifetime of adventures. But when it came to romance, my life was a barren wasteland.

"Ugh, seriously?" I groaned, throwing my phone onto the plush carpet. It bounced harmlessly. My standards were my blessing and my curse. I wasn't about to settle for some boring guy who couldn't keep up with my witty comebacks and ambitious dreams. I craved a partner who could challenge me, inspire me, and make me laugh until my sides ached. Someone who saw beyond the designer labels and recognized the real me.

But apparently, finding a guy who could quote Nietzsche and also knew how to change a tire was like searching for a unicorn in a Walmart parking lot.

Maybe it was time to lower the bar. Just a smidge. After all, perfection was an illusion, a carefully constructed image in a world obsessed with filters and unrealities.

A soft knock on my door broke through my thoughts. "Come in," I mumbled, burrowing deeper under my covers.

Ms. Brown, our housekeeper, entered with a tray bearing my daily dose of vitamins and supplements. "Good morning, Ms. Montgomery," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "You have to drink your medicines."

I downed the pills with a grimace, the bitter lemon taste a harsh reminder of my less-than-perfect health.

"Thanks, Ms. Brown," I said, handing her the empty glass.

"Good night, Ms. Sarah," she replied with a gentle smile.

"Night," I echoed, already feeling the pull of exhaustion. As the door clicked shut, I switched off the bedside lamp, plunging my room into darkness. 

Sleep finally claimed me, offering a temporary escape from the anxieties swirling in my mind.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Jasmine's text message practically screamed from my phone.

Jasmine, my best friend since kindergarten, was the only person who could call me 'sleepyhead' without getting a designer handbag hurled at her head. We were two sides of the same coin: both born into privilege, both with a penchant for sarcasm, and both hopelessly addicted to our phones.

"Already up, drama queen," I shot back, yawning.

"Ready for the big day?" she asked.

"Born ready," I replied, adding a GIF of a sassy Beyoncé for good measure.

I was always ready. Punctuality was practically my middle name. It was a trait that had earned me countless awards in high school, and hopefully, a decent seat at the graduation ceremony.

"What time are we leaving?" Jasmine asked.

"Let's aim for 10:30," I said, glancing at the clock. "Gives us enough time to get glammed up."

"I'll be there in an hour," she replied.

"Perfect. And bring your curling iron. Mine mysteriously vanished," I added, remembering the disastrous incident involving my sister and a rogue can of hairspray.

"On it," Jasmine said.

An hour later, Jasmine burst into my room, a whirlwind of energy and designer perfume.

"You look different," she said, eyeing me with a playful smirk.

"Yeah, my hair decided to try out a new shade of blonde," I said, running a hand through the ever-changing strands. It was a genetic quirk, one that kept my hairstylist on speed dial.

"Suits you," Jasmine said, already rummaging through my makeup bag. "Now, let's get this show on the road."

We spent the next few hours transforming ourselves into the picture-perfect graduates. Makeup brushes flew, hairspray fumes filled the air, and clothes were discarded with reckless abandon. By the time we were finished, we looked like we'd stepped out of a magazine spread.

"Should we call John?" Jasmine asked, snapping a selfie of us.

John. Our other best friend. The one who somehow managed to balance our chaotic energy with his calm demeanor.

"Good idea," I said, grabbing my phone. "He's probably already waiting at the university, panicking about finding a parking spot."

"Knowing John, he probably arrived three hours early and is currently helping the faculty set up chairs," Jasmine said, laughing.

I dialed John's number. "Hey, where are you guys?" he answered, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

"Still at my place," I said. "Mind picking us up?"

"Be there in ten," he replied.

True to his word, John arrived ten minutes later, his trusty Toyota Corolla a welcome sight.

"Someone's looking sharp," Jasmine commented as we piled into the car.

"It's graduation day," John said, grinning. "Gotta celebrate the end of an era."

"And the beginning of a new one," I added, feeling a flicker of excitement finally pierce through the anxiety.

The drive to the university was a blur of laughter and reminiscing. We recounted our most epic college moments: the disastrous house party, the all-nighter fueled by caffeine and desperation, the time we accidentally set off the fire alarm in the library.

As we pulled up to the university gates, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. This place, with its sprawling lawns and ivy-covered buildings, had been my home for the past four years. It was where I'd discovered my passions, forged lifelong friendships, and learned more about myself than I ever thought possible.

"Ready for this?" John asked, turning to us with a hopeful smile.

"As I'll ever be," I replied, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the car.

The graduation ceremony was a whirlwind of emotions. Pride, excitement, relief, and a touch of sadness. As I walked across the stage, diploma clutched tightly in my hand, I couldn't help but think about the future that stretched before me, a vast landscape of possibilities.

After the ceremony, we were bombarded with hugs and congratulations. My parents, beaming with pride, presented me with a diamond necklace and the keys to a brand-new car. Jasmine and John surprised me with plane tickets to Europe, a graduation gift that sent my heart soaring.

As the day drew to a close, I found myself standing with Jasmine and John, watching the sunset over the university campus.

"What's next?" John asked, his voice thoughtful.

"World domination?" Jasmine suggested with a mischievous grin.

I laughed. "Maybe not world domination. But something amazing. Something that makes a difference."

"To the future," John said, raising his hand for a high five.

"To the future," Jasmine and I echoed, slapping our hands against his.

As we walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead. Graduation wasn't just the end of an era; it was the beginning of a journey. And I was ready to embrace it with open arms.