Page 15 of Ruthless Edge

"I’d never do that. I’d never think that. That's it." His voice has lost all the easy energy from a minute ago. He looks genuinely troubled. He sets the candy bar on the table between us and doesn't take it back, but he also doesn't push it forward again. "That's literally the only reason. I remembered you liked them."

The silence between us is about two seconds long. I'm very aware of the scuff on the table edge.

"Right," I say. "I know. I’m sorry."

I reach over and take the Twix.

I don't eat it. I set it beside my laptop and open the auction document and pull up my notes, and Knox, after a moment, does the same thing, or approximately the same thing, since his version involves pulling out a single sheet of paper that appears to have three bullet points on it and a drawing of what might be a hockey stick in the margin.

"Okay," I say. "Eight weeks. Here's what needs to happen."

I walk him through the framework. Timeline, milestones, division of responsibilities, the budget ceiling Dr. Neely sent an email confirming this afternoon. Knox listens with more attention than I expected, which I notice and immediately tell myself not to store.

"How've your classes been this semester?" he says, when I pause to pull up a second document.

"Fine. The budget ceiling is⁠—"

"What are you taking?"

"Knox."

"It's a question."

"It's not an auction question." I pull up the budget spreadsheet. "We can spend up to eighteen thousand on the event, but the university is only funding half. That means we need to bring in at least nine thousand in sponsorships."

He leans forward to look at the screen. He's close enough that I can see the reflection of my spreadsheet in his eyes, which is not useful information. "Hacksack Blues is playing at the Anchor this weekend," he says.

"I know." I do know. I've known for two weeks. Hacksack Blues is a local band that's been building a following since we were freshmen, and they've gotten genuinely good over the past couple years, and I haven't gone to see them because they play at the Anchor and the Anchor is usually packed with people I don't want to make small talk with.

"We should go," Knox says.

Hacksack Blues was a band we used to talk about. Gush about. We were both major fans. Someday I thought we’d see a concert together. Back when I was an idiot.

"We should discuss the sponsor list."

"We can do both."

"We really can't. If we only have eight weeks, and the first week goes to casual conversations and concerts, we're down to seven, and seven weeks isn't enough time to do this properly." I take a deep breath. “Remember, this isn't a university-wide fundraiser. Everything we raise goes directly to the hockey program, so this is important to your team.“

Knox looks at me for a moment. He does that sometimes, just looks, like he's reading something or someone. Then he nods. "Okay. Sponsor list."

And then, against everything I expected from this meeting, he's actually helpful.

His first idea surfaces about twenty minutes in, when I'm explaining the traditional format, where hockey players are auctioned off, there’s the gala dinner, bidding paddles, and he interrupts looking like he has something important to say.

"What if we didn't auction hockey players this year?"

"The auction is built around the hockey team."

"Yeah, but it's been that way every time. People know what to expect. What if instead—" he shifts in his seat to face me a little more, "—we auctioned off the women running the event? Students, SAB members, the co-chairs. Women who people actually know from campus. The hockey guys are fun but they’ll be the first to bid on the ladies, and I think we could raise more money that way. Ladies like you. Everyone knows Emma Lawson from the SAB."

"Everyone knows Knox Carter from hockey."

"Sure. But people bid on hockey players because it's a way to raise money for the hockey team. They'd bid on SAB people because they'd actually want to spend the evening with them." He taps his pen on the table. "It'd be different. It'd get people talking."

I look at my spreadsheet.

I do not want to agree with this. I want to push back on it until he runs out of arguments and we table it and move on. But the honest truth, and I only ever deal in honest truths even when they're inconvenient, is that the idea has real potential. The hockey auction has been done. People know what it is. A format shift would generate buzz, drive ticket sales, and give the event an angle to market.