Day 1: Colleen (A Tale of Two Ladies)

For once, Monday doesn’t come with bruises.

You’re in your room. Alone. No camera crew. No impromptu travel. No high-stakes kink marathons with an emotional toll. Just still air, a fully charged tablet, and the smallest illusion of peace.

You’re not winning. But you’re not flailing, either.

Cassie and Graham are poised to close big hands. Milo’s made a mystery move with Selene that no one understands yet—not even him, probably. Tank? Tank’s gone from early momentum to meme-tier disaster, hemorrhaging points and wasting his Power Play like a frat boy playing blackjack with Monopoly rules.

You glance at your hand: 7♣ and 9♣ with 8♣ waiting in Free Reserve. The middle of a dead straight flush—blocked high by Cassie’s 10♣ and low by Tank’s 6♣. But if Tank gets eliminated, that 6 might re-enter the pool. You could still make something of this.

Still, something needs to score. Soon. Even a low-value success this week keeps you visible. Keeps you relevant.

You open the chat app. Tank has just posted a mirror selfie—shirtless, sweaty, football under his arm, captioned: “Back in the game.”

The responses are swift and merciless.

“Dude’s confidence is its own power play.”

“Blink twice if Cassie hacked your account.”

“There's no ‘W’ in 'TANK'!”

“Gym selfie won’t fix game strategy.”

“Let him cook—but maybe unplug the stove.”

You smirk, scroll, and—for the first time—notice a tab you haven’t touched before.

Betting Booth.

You blink. When did that get added? Was it always there? You've spent the last 3 weeks racing and reeling. Maybe you've just been on too much of a head trip to notice it.

You tap in. Odds, player tags, favorability stats. It’s not a full leaderboard—just how the College Spread members are betting on who comes out on top for this four-week cycle.

You – 6:1.

You're described as a Quiet Builder.

You have a 78% favorability rating.

Not bad. Not great. You’ve taken hits and kept moving, but people aren’t expecting fireworks, not from a freshman. They expect you to play smart, not loud.

Cassie leads at 2:1. Calculated Opportunist. She’s earned it, both through scoring and sabotage. Milo, same odds as you but with higher favourability—82%. Dark Horse Charmer. Whatever he’s doing with Selene, it’s got the crowd curious. And Graham’s sitting at 2:1 with Cassie—Calculated Closer—his diamond flush nearly ready to go.

You toss a fifty on Graham. Not because you’re cheering him on, but because if he wins the round, you’d rather profit from it.

You close the booth and look over your own situation.

This week’s draw: Colleen Turner. 2♦.

Nineteen. Computer Science major. On her card, she’s in a maroon tee with the kind of posture that says she’s tolerating the photo as a formality. Her tagline reads: “I prefer Java—to frat parties.”

She looks boring. No hoodie. No cutesy glasses. Just a basic look, with a basic expression, and a shirt that probably references a function no one on the crew understood. Her rumor? Apparently, she once moaned during a code jam and claimed it was her processor overheating.

She’s not the kind of girl who flirts or poses. She’s precise. She’s guarded. You realize she's not a 2 because of her looks - she's a 2 because of her personality. But she’s your challenge this week—and you can’t afford to let her slide. Fail here and she goes back into the deck as a wasted opportunity. You’ve seen what bad weeks do to people. One of them’s currently uploading thirst traps while bleeding morale.

You start digging. “Women in Tech” is listed as an official student org. Their website is basic but functional, and you find a link to a stream of last week’s Zoom event. You scrub through it.

There she is. Second row. Silent, focused. You wait through Q&A, and sure enough—Colleen asks a question about automation protocols. Clear, confident, low-voiced.

You mark the time. Next meeting’s tomorrow night. Open attendance.

You’ll be there.

Then you pivot to Freya Andersen. Your Free Reserve. 8♣.

She’s not this week’s challenge, but if you make it pas elimination, she’s a challenge you need for a straight or a flush. Philosophy major. Twenty-two. Availability: 42. Kinkiness: 66. Fertility: 38. Her card reads: “Prove you exist—then she might text back.”

Her rumor? “Supposedly once corrected a guy’s Latin mid-hookup… and didn’t let him finish until he could decline all six noun cases.”

Freya isn’t someone you approach casually. She’s someone you earn. So you dig.

The university’s philosophy department has a discussion board—low-traffic, full of half-formed hot takes and syllogistic flame wars. You find a thread still active: something about the dialectics of silence in Plato’s “Seventh Letter.” You've taken a couple of philosophy courses but this? It’s heavy reading, you can barely understand any of it, but one reply catches your eye. Sharp, precise, and signed F. Andersen. She's actually one of few people on the board who use normal, human language to discuss deeply philosphical, social and psychological issues.

You spend two hours researching to understand more fully, ten minutes crafting a response. Neutral tone. On topic... you hope. You quote her post, link it to a counterpoint she didn’t mention, and close with a Latin phrase you HOPE ChatGPT got right. You're out of your depth in this field, but you are determined to swim.

Then you post.

First contact is made with two Ladies of the College Spread deck. One for Freya. One for Colleen.

Things are now in motion.

You're not just planning anymore.

You're playing.