Page 82 of Even Exchange

We stroll down the path, and she says, “Heard you had to coach for Andrews’ o-line today?”

“Yep.” I huff a breath.

“How was it?”

“Fine.”Annoying.“Just treated them like any other team.”

“What?” she shrieks, and I flinch, eyes snapping to hers. “I was hoping you had them run the bleachers till they puked or made sure Jonathan got his shit rocked.”

I chuckle. “As appealing as all that sounds, I was trying to be professional.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Can you professionally rock his shit?”

I release my hold on her hand and put my free arm around her shoulder, tiramisù still securely in the other. “Well, you’ll have to complain to CBU’s defense about that.” I place a kiss in her hair, and she grips my waist. “But sure. Next time I’ll say, ‘Fuck professionalism,’ and make him do burpees till he blacks out.”

“Is that really too much for a fake girlfriend to ask for?” she says, smiling up at me, her pretty lips inches away. It would be so easy to lean down, claiming them. I wonder how she tastes. The feel of her tongue on mine. What kind of noises she’d make.

“Hey, Caruso!” I’m yanked out of my fantasy, head turning to find one of the other coaches. “You got a minute?”

I glance back to Charlotte with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says, seemingly unaffected. “You’ve got big grown-up things to attend to.”

“See you at the bonfire later?” I ask.

“It’s a date,” she says, and I fight a smile. “I just meant?—”

I bend down, brushing my lips against her ear. “It’s adate.”

* * *

The outside temperature is sweltering, but the bonfire is tradition to end the first completed week of training. So we’re all here, roasting both the marshmallows and ourselves. Coaches, staff, and students alike mingle together, eating barbeque and having a good time.

Others splash in the lake, enjoying the cool water to fight off the humid Florida air.

I wander through the crowd in search of a pretty brunette, finally spotting her a few yards away. My lips curve upward as Charlotte lets loose with Andi and Stella, a happy, carefree smile on her face.

“Noah,” I hear from behind me and spin around. Hannah, the redhead I can’t seem to shake, stands a few yards away. My smile drops, but I quickly recover to avoid looking rude.

“Hey,” I say with a curt nod.

“You haven’t been answering my messages,” she says, a teasing smirk on her face.

“So you showed up to deliver them in person?” I ask, brows furrowing and the word “stalker”on the tip of my tongue.

“Dad’s here scouting for players he might want to draft next year,” she says, twirling a lock of hair. I glance around, and sure as shit, her dad, aka my new boss, is standing a few yards away, talking to one of the other coaches.

I return my attention to her. “Doesn’t explain whatyou’redoing here.”

“Thought I’d tag along and be an extra set of eyes on the upcoming talent. Any players I should keep my sights on?”

“Not that I can think of,” I say, having no interest in prolonging this conversation.

“Hmm…” She twists her mouth. “I find that hard to believe. Maybe I’ll attend one of your practices and check it out for myself.”

“That seems highly unnecessary.”

“We’ll see about that,” she says, bouncing on her heels. “Well, I gotta run and help Dad with something, but I’ll see you around.”

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