Day 2: Kennedy (Sex Messaging)

You don’t expect much when you wake.

Kennedy’s post yesterday made it clear she was out of the country for the week, and you’d already started running mental models of how to pivot to Freya—or just swallow a wasted week and move on. The game doesn’t wait for luck to swing back around. You’ve learned that already. And it's not like you're in last place right now.

Still, when your tablet buzzes and shows a message notification from Kennedy Brooks, you’re upright before you even finish blinking.

Kennedy Brooks: Hey. Just saw your message from yesterday. I don’t think we’ve met? Not trying to be rude, just not sure what you meant about me being “important” to something you’re doing.

You reread it, exhale slowly, and feel that creeping twinge of embarrassment. She doesn’t know who you are. Why would she? She’s never seen your face, never heard your name, and your first message came from a complete stranger with a vague implication and no context.

You reply carefully.

You: Hey — fair enough. That message probably came off weird. Sorry about that. We haven’t met. I’m a player in this year’s College Spread, and this week… I chose you from the draw.

You: I didn’t realize you were traveling until after I sent it. I wasn’t sure how else to reach out, but I wanted to try at least once, in case there was a shot. If you’re not available, I understand.

It’s honest. Direct. No games, well ONE game of course. You hit send and set the tablet down, expecting silence—or maybe a polite “tough luck.” Instead, the reply comes back just a few minutes later.

Kennedy Brooks: Got it. That makes sense. I wasn’t sure if this was a scam, or someone from one of my old classes being very bad at flirting. I did sign up. I asked to be included. But I didn’t expect to get pulled while I was away. That’s just bad timing. I’m not back until Sunday, and I’m not in a position to do anything from here. So unless you’re planning to relocate continents for a hookup, you’re probably out of luck.

You pause. You hadn’t even thought of that.

But now, the idea settles in your head like a click behind the eyes. There's five thousand dollars sitting in your account from Kailani’s cam show. Your passport’s current. Flights to Portugal aren’t cheap, but they’re not impossible. The game doesn’t care where the challenge takes place—just that it happens.

You tap back into the private message window, questioning whether you're really considering what you're about to do.

You: What if I did? I’m not trying to pressure you. But if the only barrier is geography, and if you’re open to it… I might be able to come to you. One time only. No expectations. Just a challenge and a plane ticket.

There’s a longer pause this time. The typing bubble flickers, disappears, comes back.

Kennedy Brooks: You’re serious? You’d actually fly to Portugal for this?

You wait a beat, then reply: Yes.

Kennedy Brooks: Most people wouldn't do that for someone they were married to. You’re willing to spend thousands of dollars and fly across the Atlantic to fuck a stranger?

You consider softening the language. You don’t.

You: If that’s how you want it, yes. It’s the challenge I drew. I’m not in this to cut corners. And if you signed up to be part of the game, I figured maybe you wanted someone who wouldn’t treat you like an inconvenience.

Kennedy Brooks: Again, I just want to check. You're serious about this? You're really planning on spending thousands of dollars and taking days out of your life to go fuck a stranger in another country? You know this is crazy right?

You grin. You've hooked her. And decide to tease her back.

You: Says the chuch girl with a hole lot of Glory going on?

Kennedy Brooks: Huh?

You: It's what the sexual rumor on your bio card said.

Kennedy: ROFLMAO! Are you kidding me? Oh I'm gonna make Rhett pay for that one!

The typing bubble pops up again.

Kennedy Brooks: I didn’t sign up to be seduced. I signed up for sex. No-nonsense, no-strings sex with strangers. That’s the deal I made. And that's the way I want it. You know my name, but it doesn’t mean you know me. And I don't care if you're using your real one.

Kennedy Brooks: If you’re coming, here’s how it works: I’ll give you an address and a time. You arrive. We fuck. You leave. I don’t want your name. I don't want to talk. And I don't want you clinging on like some homesick puppy afterwards. I want clean. Controlled. Impersonal. That’s the point. No baggage.

You stare at the screen. No warmth. No invitation. Just clarity. And somehow, that feels better.

You type two words. "Understood. Agreed."

There's a final ping.

Kennedy Brooks: Message me when you land. I’ll send the address. Don’t be late.

You close the chat and pull up a travel site. No questions. No conversation. No identity. Just you, a flight, a stranger—and feeling more like a sex object than you did with Chloe.