Page 16 of The Trade

Sighing, I flop down beside him, trying to brush off my annoyance. “What are you even working on?”

“Coach put me on the planning committee for the Spring Banquet,” he says nonchalantly, still engrossed in his screen.

My brow shoots up. “The fuck? Why did he ask your sorry ass?”

“I have the highest GPA on the team.” He shrugs, scrolling through web pages without a care. “Coach thinks I can handle the extra stress of party planning.”

“That’s gotta suck. What’s the theme this year?”

“Danny wants to go with Vegas.” He rolls his eyes at the absurdity. “I was thinking something simpler. Black and white or ... fire and ice. That’s kinda sexy, right?”

My laughter escapes before I can manage to hold it back. “Banquets aren’t fucking sexy.”

“Speak for yourself,” he snaps, feigning offense.

“And the Trade?”

The Trade’s a sort of tradition for the Dayton football players. Every year, the upperclassmen secretly agree to swap dates at the Spring Banquet. It’s mostly harmless—guys with girlfriends can opt out, but they must state an “off-limits rule,” or their girls are fair game.

It’s our little secret, a game with only two rules—take someone else’s date home, and don’t speak a word of it to anyone outside the team.

The reward for pulling off a successful trade is well worth the effort. Last year, only eight players managed to score a touchdown, so to say. As underclassmen, Cam and I had the dubious honor of cleaning their gear for an entire season.

This year, it’s finally our turn to step up to the plate.

“Of course Trade’s still on.” He clasps his hands together with an eager grin. “You think Elliot’s gonna lock down his girl before then?”

“Fuck no.”

Our starting quarterback, Noah Elliot, has been chasing after the same girl for the past two years. She’s definitely pulling his chain at this point, but the guy seems blissfully unaware. I’m sure he’ll tell us all she’s off-limits anyway.

He tilts his head, eyes keen. “Do you know who you’re taking?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” I murmur, gazing off into space. “She’s not gonna be mine at the end of the night anyway.”

“Well,” he says smugly. “I was thinking I might help my man out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could ask Shannon for you.” His expression is downright gleeful. “Make it sort of a group thing so she doesn’t feel like shit for going home with you at the end of the night.”

Now that gets my attention. “Not a bad idea.”

“On one condition.” He raises an expectant brow. “You’ve got to take someone good for me. Let’s make it a fair trade.”

“And who do you want?”

“Another cheerleader?” he proposes. “Might make the whole thing a bit easier on Shan.”

“I don’t know, man.” I pause for a beat, contemplating the repercussions. “Those girls already know the score with me. They’d probably get pissed if I asked them to the banquet and then went home with Shan anyway.”

“Makes sense.” He shrugs. “She have any other hot friends?”

My mind immediately drifts to Jade. The first time we met, she didn’t strike me as someone I’d consider hot. After our second run-in in the library, I’ve seriously re-evaluated that thought.

Jade definitely has a pretty face. She’s funny, too. Witty and sharp.

Hot? Now that’s harder to say, especially with that baggy sweatshirt of hers. The worn-out thing is probably three sizes too big and looks like she snagged it from her dad’s wardrobe or something. I can’t quite make out what she’s hiding beneath it.

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