Page 56 of Even Exchange

As if I need the reminder.

“Isthatwhy we’re all here?” I tease, hoping to lighten his mood, but when those green eyes flick to mine, a look of pure fear pins me in place.

“What if I don’t get picked tonight? What if I’m a second- or third-night pick?” His eyes widen. “What if I don’t get selected at all?”

“The guys—hell, every sportscaster in the country—have been saying you’re a first-round pick for months.”And it’s the truth.“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Maybe.” He glances down, wringing his hands together. “Which means by the end of the night, my entire life is changing.” He looks up at me, uncertainty swimming in his gaze.

I place my hands on his and squeeze. “You have worked yourentirelife for this. All the sacrifices, long practice days, aching muscles, and battered bruises. It’s all been for this moment. You’veearnedthis.” He flips his hands upward, and I entangle my fingers with his, ignoring the memories from our little camping trip fluttering in my mind. Ignoring how nice it feels as he grazes a thumb across my knuckle. “You’re one of the youngest quarterbacks to win a Heisman—ever.That’s a huge deal.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, but Charlotte,theseguys are therealdeal. College ball is child’s play compared to the NFL.”

“Well, you’re not a little kid.” A grin spreads across my face. “You’re a grown-ass man who plays football like a god.”

He fights a smile, squeezing my hands. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

“What are friends for?”

“Right,” he says, with a gentle smile, setting our hands between us, looking from them to me. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything,” I say, and mean it. Because right now, in this moment, Noah Caruso could ask me to wrangle an alligator, and I’d say,Where’s the rope?

“No matter where I end up, we can’t lose this.” His gaze is intense. Steady. And it makes my stomach flip. “You have to promise you’re gonna stay in my life.”

“Of course I will. You could be on Mars, and I’d still send you Martian mail giving you shit about what you ate for lunch.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s my girl.”

My girl.

I allow one selfish moment for my face to rest against his hand. One heartbeat as his thumb trails my lower lip, causing my breath to hitch.

He opens his mouth, words coming out low and breathless. “I never want anything to jeopardize what we have.”

I swallow hard. “Me either.”

“It’s important to me.You’reimportant to me.”

“You are to me too,” I say quietly as the air shifts in the room, the stillness turning into a tornado of emotion I can’t decipher. He takes my face in his hands and pulls me toward him.What is he doing?My breathing stops, and I close my eyes just before a soft kiss is placed upon my… forehead?

He lets out a heavy breath. “Mi fai impazzire.”

I sigh against him. “As much as I love when you speak Italian, I hate not knowing what you’re saying.”

His gentle eyes capture mine. “It means, ‘I’m happy you’re my friend.’”

Friend.

That term we keep tossing around. An innocent word that feels more like a curse.

A damnation.

* * *

“That’s some bull,” Elijah drawls.

“Lame!” Theo throws popcorn at the TV as we watch some hotshot quarterback from the University of Minnesota clench the first-round pick from the LA Scorpions, one of Noah’s top choices. Noah grabs the ball cap off the table that matches the team mascot and chucks it to Desmond, who promptly stomps on it. The boys are in an uproar for him, but all I feel is relief. Los Angeles is as far away as he could possibly go.

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