Hidden Play: The Return 《COMPLETE》

Chapter 28

A/N: Hey, folks. Thanks for the patience on this update. As many of you know, I've struggled with this novel and have been debating on unpublishing the series from Wattpad. I've gotten some pretty negative feedback on this novel and on Hidden Play, and while I respect that everyone has their own opinion, as the creator of these works, it starts to wear on my self-confidence as a writer after a while.

That said, there are a number of you who have written me messages filled with such awesome support and motivation. Needless to say, it is thanks to all of your support that I was able to finally write this chapter – a chapter dedicated to all of you.

Chapter 28

The buzz of the fluorescent lights is drowned out by the muffled chaos pummeling the locker room door. Our fans, parents, friends, and community are all in the bleachers, waiting for us. Despite our loss at state, they've paid their ten-dollar entrance fee to get through the gym doors to close out our season with one, final event. An auction. Their energy spills under the small crack of the locker room door, swallowing the air around us, and filling our lungs with nervous excitement.

Coach paces in his office. He shouts into his phone and pauses to jot down a note on his clipboard. Even though I've only known the guy for a season, he's made it clear his preference is to remain on the sidelines – literally. He loves the game and enjoys coaching, but these kind of 'spotlight' events are miserable for him.

Mike nods towards Coach, following my silent train of thought.

"Last year," he shouts over the noise, "a group of the varsity cheerleaders all pooled their money together to bid for the guys to help out at their carwash fundraiser. Well, apparently the volleyball team had the same idea, and it turned into a bidding war. Shit got so loud that nobody could hear anything."

Radik overhears the conversation and chuckles. "Coach got so pissed," he chimes in, shaking his head. "He kept sputtering into the mic, 'is there another bid, IS THERE ANOTHER BID?'"

Mike lets out one of his hearty laughs. "Nobody could hear him. His face was getting all crazy red and he was shouting until finally –"

He stands up and imitates Coach screaming into the mic, rolling his eyes at the screaming audience, before throwing the invisible mic to the ground and kicking aside (what I assume to be) a nearby speaker. The flamboyant reenactment earns Mike a laugh from the group. I smirk to myself, imaging our hot-headed Coach attempting to take the win over a screaming crowd.

"Alright, gentleman!"

Speak of the devil...

Coach lumbers out of his office and cuts an apprehensive glare towards the gym. Looks like the epic bidding war left a lasting impression on him, poor guy. He waves his clipboard to get our attention, and we huddle up around him.

"Listen up!" He puts a foot on the bench, brows knitting together in concentration. It's his classic go-to move, the one he saves to boost morale and get us in the right frame of mind before going back on the court.

"We had quite a few requests this year," Coach continues. "I went through them with your principal and got his approval on the ones we'll be accepting for bids."

A wave of nerves curls around my stomach, squeezing together my intestines with an ironclad fist. A few weeks ago, being in an Auction Event with my teammates would have sent me into a fit of anxiety. After my talk with Mike, though, I'm realizing I'm not alone in experiencing fear and pain. My teammates have struggles they're dealing with, too.

Now, my source of stress is zeroing in on the 'what-if's of the next hour.

What if no one wants to bid on me?