Day 1: Kennedy (Easy?)

You feel good this morning.

Not “win-the-game” good. Not even “ride-the-high-from-Kailani’s-cam-show” good. But grounded. Capable. Finally, maybe, not waiting for the floor to drop out from under you the moment the week begins.

Kennedy Brooks is your draw, and compared to your last two weeks, she might as well be a gift-wrapped blessing. No electric shocks, no surprise lesbianism, no suspicion of being bait in someone else’s plot—just a smart, poised girl with a killer eyebrow and a quietly filthy rumor pinned to her name. A church girl with a 77 kink rating and a glory hole reputation? After everything else, it practically feels like charity.

You’d actually cheered when the card came up in the prep room.

"Easy!" you’d shouted, like a man dealt a full house while everyone else was still sorting their suits.

And she’s not your only option. Freya Andersen is sitting quietly in your reserve slot, another philosophy major, but looking colder, thornier, and probably the type who’ll take work. You’ve already begun thinking of her as a long-game piece. Someone who’ll need intellectual courting and maybe an essay or two to even agree to coffee, let alone anything filmed. But she’s there. Ready for a challenge. A future point waiting to be carved free.

Add that to Kailani still in your hand, and Chloe locked on the scoreboard, and the math starts leaning your way.

So today’s simple. Find Kennedy. Make contact. Try a challenge. Build momentum. Maybe, if there’s time, start chipping away at Freya’s glacier.

You begin your search near the Philosophy building, hovering by the double doors as seminar students file out in little knots of flannel and smugness. No Kennedy. You linger by the library. No Kennedy. You even swing through the humanities café—nothing. She doesn’t strike you as a dorm girl, but you pass her building on the way back across campus just in case. Still nothing.

You're not worried. Yet.

You decide to send a private message through her social media. Discreet. Friendly. Nothing that would raise a flag if she’s not part of the game.

"Hey Kennedy. I was hoping we could talk sometime this week—something came up and you’re kind of important to it. Totally casual. Let me know when you’re around?"

You fire it off and pocket the tablet. Maybe she’s in class. Maybe she’s a late riser. Maybe she’s the kind of girl who doesn’t bother checking messages before noon. But by early afternoon, something itches at the back of your neck. She should’ve at least seen the message by now, if she’s on campus. You pull out your tablet again and do something you probably should’ve done sooner.

You actually check her socials instead of just messaging her through them.

Her page is mostly quiet. A couple of bookish posts. A few reblogs from campus groups. Quotes about grace, self-discipline, and the pursuit of wisdom. And then—there it is.

A new photo, posted just a few hours ago.

Kennedy, standing in front of an old stone cathedral. She's barefoot on a cobbled plaza, smiling faintly in a long linen dress and a wide-brimmed hat. A leather-bound journal is tucked under her arm. Behind her, sunlight spills through an arched stained-glass window that screams "not local."

The caption reads: Week of reflection. Grateful to my professors and classmates for sharing notes while I’m away. Back on Sunday. #pilgrimage #graceandgrowth

It takes you a moment to process it. Not because you’re confused—there’s nothing vague about it. She’s away. In another country. For the entire week.

Your “easy” card? The one you’d planned your whole strategy around?

She’s not even in the goddamn time zone.

You stare at the photo, watching likes trickle in beneath it. The irony tastes bitter, and maybe a little familiar.

This game really doesn’t believe in mercy.

You swipe back to the College Spread group chat and slam your thumb into the “Join” button. The chat window loads with a flicker. Usually it’s memes, brags, bad puns. Today, you’re here to scream.

Fresher: Sooooo anyone want to explain how I’m supposed to challenge a girl who’s currently halfway across the world doing “spiritual growth” in a sunhat?

The response is immediate.

Tank Marshall: lol get good

Cassie Li: Ah. The classic “pure and unavailable” strategy. Very rare. Very cruel. 8/10.

Milo Gutierrez: Did she at least look hot? Or is this a dry spell in every sense?

You're about to fire something back when a new message pops up—this one stamped with the glowing blue of host authority.

Rhett (Host): Oh yeah. She always takes a week in Portugal this time of year. Religious retreat or something. Good luck with that.

You stare at it.

Fresher: Wait—how the hell do you know that?

Rhett (Host): She’s my cousin.

The chat lights up instantly.

Tank Marshall: BRO WHAT

Cassie Li: Host privileges???

Graham West: …this explains a lot.

Fresher: You put your cousin in the game?

Rhett (Host): Chill. She knows everything. Asked to be included. Said the game sounded “refreshing.” Something about compartmentalizing. Sex with strangers is her idea of spiritual exfoliation or whatever.

You blink. Once. Twice.

So the girl you thought was going to be easy? The one who'd require little effort if her rumor was true? Turns out you had underestimatd how easy she'd be—if she weren’t off meditating in a monastery and blowing strangers in confessionals between journaling sessions.

You close the chat and stare blankly at your screen.

Kennedy Brooks was supposed to be your breather week.

Instead, she's an empty space with a smirk and a passport stamp, and you're stuck holding a challenge card with no one to play it on.

"Great," you say to yourself, "What the hell am I meant to do now?"