But Wait...What's This Switch?

The lights dimmed again as Rhett strode center stage, all swagger and mischief, his grin already promising disaster for someone. The LED wall behind him pulsed with that same irresistible logo: College Spread. The music faded to a teasing hum.

“Time to find out who’s playing smart, who’s playing horny, and who’s about to bet their entire week on a pair of pretty eyes and a doomed fantasy. Our game uses the snake draft format - the order in which player make their choices reverses each week to ensure nobody has an advantage over anyone else. So grab your snake, and let's see if it's impressive!”

The spotlight snapped on.

“First up—our board member, Graham West. Who’s your pick for the week, Graham?”

Graham didn’t even blink. “Helena Vasquez. Nine of Diamonds.”

Rhett arched an eyebrow. “Another diamond? You building a flush, a straight, or just constructing your own investment portfolio, one card at a time?”

Graham gave a wry smile. “Let’s call it wealth concentration. You don’t have to win every hand—you just have to make fewer mistakes than the person next to you.”

Rhett grinned. “Classic boardroom thinking. Safe, smug, and just condescending enough to sound smart.”

The light shifted.

“Next—our tenured risk-averse academic: Professor Simon Rourke. What’s the syllabus say?”

“Rebekah Flores,” Rourke said. “Six of Clubs.”

Rhett gave him a long look. “Second week in a row you’ve skipped anything high value. You dodging competition or just allergic to interesting women?”

Rourke remained unfazed. “I’ve seen how most of these kids operate. Someone’s going to forget to lock in their score, or bite off more than they can chew. I don’t need to win flashy—I just need to finish above the bottom.”

“That’s what we call the syllabus version of foreplay,” Rhett muttered. “But hey, at least you’re showing your work.”

Another spotlight snapped to life.

“Cassie Li. Gymnast turned economist, and the only person here more calculating than the app that built this show. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Lila Moreno,” Cassie replied. “Seven of Hearts.”

Rhett nodded. “Six last week, seven this week. Going for the incremental heartbreaker strategy?”

Cassie’s voice was cool. “It’s called consistency. Look it up.”

Rhett raised his hands. “Don’t have to—I think you’re writing the book on it.”

The stage rotated again.

“Now then, Mr. Kensington the Third. Our investment brat turned would-be Casanova. What’s the play?”

Zeke answered without a hint of doubt. “Dr. Selene Ravensmoor. Queen of Spades.”

The audience made a soft noise—half admiration, half panic.

Rhett blinked. “You already flamed out on one Queen last week, and now you're back on the faculty tier?”

Zeke’s smile didn’t move. “I don’t make the same mistake twice. And besides, I don’t aim for average.”

“Just aim better than last time,” Rhett muttered. “She gives off ‘curses your bloodline’ energy.”

The next spotlight swung over.

“Tank Marshall—campus wall of muscle and the man most likely to carry his strategy in a gym bag. What’s your move?”

“Tamika Greene,” Tank said. “Four of Clubs.”

Rhett tilted his head. “Let me guess—three of Clubs last week?”

Tank nodded. “Yup.”

“So we’re just bench-pressing our way up the flush ladder.”

“It’s called building momentum.”

Rhett chuckled. “Just make sure you don’t pull a hamstring trying to charm a ten.”

The next name was called with a bit more caution.

“Milo Gutierrez. Part-time psych major, full-time chaos agent. What’s your pick?”

“Wendy Fretz,” Milo said. “Two of Spades.”

Rhett gave him a long, unblinking stare. “You picked... Wendy. You chose to spend your week in the company of astrophysics, awkward laughter, and someone who got ghosted mid-lab experiment?”

Milo just smiled. “Stars don’t lie, man.”

Rhett exhaled. “They also don’t return your texts.”

And finally, the spotlight hit the last player.

Rhett turned toward him with something resembling actual respect. “And last up—our fresher. The only guy here to successfully go public in Week One. So, who’s your card?”

The protagonist tapped his tablet, shrugging once. “Chloe Davenport. Ten of Diamonds.”

Rhett didn’t make a joke. Everyone saw it was the last card left.

“High value,” Rhett said. “You don’t know her yet. So what’s the plan?”

The fresher gave a small shrug. “I guess... I’ll find out who she is. Hope I get lucky.”

Rhett nodded slowly, a faint grin twitching at the edge of his mouth.

“Well. That’s usually how college starts.”

He turned back to the audience, arms wide again.

"And that’s the draw, folks. Seven players. Seven women. One wild week ahead. Some of these pairings might spark magic. Some might spark restraining orders. And at least one of you poor bastards is going to walk into something you weren’t ready for."

He paused.

"Now you've made your choices, check your tablets for their bio cards and for the replacement to the challenge card you played last week. Remember, challenge cards are always randomly drawn."