Page 54 of Even Exchange

So much for playing it casual.

“Excuse me,” Charlotte sasses, snatching her phone back. “Noah Gabriel.” She narrows her eyes.If only she knew my body’s reaction to the way she says my name is not one of remorse.“I donotneed a chaperone.”

“Halloween would beg to differ.” Her expression goes flat. “I’m sorry, I just meant—” The camera blurs once more as she shuffles through the house, and when I see her face again, I groan, taking in her surroundings.

She’s inmyroom. Sitting onmybed while I’m on the opposite side of the country.

The woman is torturing me, and she knows it.

“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “I know that night is a sore spot.”

“It is,” she says with a searing look.

“You want the truth?” I say, opting for vulnerability to thaw this Elsa act.

“Please.”

“I’m frustrated you’re in my house and I’m not.”

She stares at me, brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Becausewhy?”

Because the thought of you finding some other guy to be your rebound who’s not going to even remotely give a shit about you or your feelings makes me want to vomit.

I drag a hand through my hair. “Because it looks like a good party.”

So much for the truth.

“It is,” she says, glancing away, then back to the camera. “And I’m actually gonna get back to it if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say lamely, and she hangs up, killing the call and my mood.

I curse myself, feeling dumb. Why’d I have to bring up a night I know she hates?

When I return to my home screen, the countdown clock stares at me.

NFL Draft: 6 days. 21 hours. 18 minutes. 43 seconds.

By this time next week, I’ll finally have the answer to where I’m spending the next chapter of my life, and fuck if that doesn’t scare the hell out of me.

11

CHARLOTTE

“No one could rally a group of idiots the way you two did,” Elijah says, tipping a beer towards Noah and Desmond in the crowded kitchen of their off-campus house, aka the Baller Pad.

“Hey!”

“Bro!” players from the CBU team shout, a drink in hand to toast before the start of the NFL draft tonight. Noah and Desmond opted out of traveling to the televised event to spend it here in their home. One last hurrah.

There are easily fifty of us crammed together. A total 180 from the small graduation party Desmond had last week when Noah was gone. They cranked up the music when he called so he’d think it was some big rager, knowing he’d be irritated.It worked.

“Simmer down,” Elijah says, with a flick of his wrist. “My point is, you’re legends. It’s been an honor to learn from you. And it’s an honor to consider you both friends.” Elijah’s voice cracks. “Shit.” He turns away, wiping his face, and clears his throat.

“Anderson,” Noah says, his own voice faltering, trying not to show emotion.

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