“149!”

I stopped jumping up and down. Tim stopped shouting. How far over $100 should we really go?

Anxious not to send Noah and Ryan straight into the clutches of psychopathy, the emcee pounced on our hesitation and awarded the skaters to our competition for $149.

The hockey players were pleased.

“I thought, for sure, that we were going to go for, like, four dollars,” Lannon admitted.

Tim and I were not so pleased.

But it could have been worse, I suppose. Later that night, three members of the men’s water polo team went for $675, far more than Noah and Ryan raked in.

“It hurt a little.” Ryan laughed. “I don’t know what they did to go for [that much]. The two emcees who were running it were telling us to take our shirts off...but I don’t know if that would have helped or hurt our going rate.”

“I don’t know if [the water polo players] had to dance, or if they had a stalker, or what,” he added.

And so, sometime during reading period, a group of girls is going to have “a good time”—Ryan’s words—with the two defensemen.

And Tim and I are left to continue writing about the men’s hockey team, secure in the knowledge that every interaction with the players, from here on out, will be unbelievably uncomfortable.

—Staff writer Rebecca A. Seesel can be reached at seesel@fas.harvard.edu.