Page 41 of The Trade

I mean, Miller? Yeah, I suppose he was cute, but I caught him staring at my ass more than a handful of times. Meanwhile, West, who had managed to whip up this whirlwind of emotions inside me, barely glanced in my direction the entire night.

His behavior was nothing like the friendly, teasing dynamic we’ve been nurturing recently. So, what on earth made me think there was something more between us? Why did I fool myself into believing that our banter in the library was anything more than that? Just harmless, inconsequential flirting.

Clearly, I need to recalibrate my romance radar.

Oh well, there are plenty of other interested guys to choose from, those who won’t just shove me off onto their friends. I was probably being naive about the two of us, anyway, but reality has a knack for crushing those illusions.

If anything real had developed between us, it would have fizzled out sooner rather than later, leaving nothing but a weird vibe and one less ... friend to hang out with.

Because that’s what we are. Friends. It snuck up on me quicker than I expected, but I’ve become a little bit attached to him. To us. West is someone I look forward to spending time with, someone I enjoy teasing and being teased by. Especially when I call him Theo, a name that he pretends to despise, but I can tell he kind of likes it.

That cheeky little spark in his eyes is anything but subtle.

But none of that matters now because he doesn’t want me back, and I have to accept that. So, I’m good with being just friends. And hell, maybe I will hook up with Miller if that’s what he wants from me. He is an athlete, after all, and I did make a promise to try one on for size.

* * *

Thursday sneaks up on me,and now it’s been exactly five days since I last spoke to West. No word, no text, no casual bump-into-you-at-the-library type deal. Nothing at all. And now that I think about it, it’s been radio silence from his pal Miller, too.

What the hell’s going on with them?

A nagging curiosity, woven with an unpleasant twinge of disappointment, picks at the edges of my mind. But I shrug it off and take matters into my own hands.

“Hey, Shan,” I call, striding into her bedroom without so much as a knock. The room smells of vanilla and strawberries—her signature scents—and there’s a soft glow emanating from the lamp beside her desk.

There’s also another girl lounging on her bed, feet kicked up against the wall, engrossed in scrolling through her phone. I recognize her as Emmy, one of Shannon’s teammates. Her ash-blonde hair is tied up in a half knot, and she’s wearing this dark shade of lipstick that contrasts her pale skin.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” I say, offering her a tiny wave before turning back to my roommate. “Er, Shan, do you have a minute to talk about Miller?”

“What’s up? He still hasn’t texted you?” she asks, brows arching in surprise.

“Nope,” I say as I flop onto the edge of her bed.

Emmy perks up from her spot beside me. “Are you talking aboutRemiMiller?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “Do you know anything about him?

She wrinkles her nose. “Well, I know he’s a wide receiver, but he also dated one of our teammates last year. From what I heard, it was quite the dramafest.”

“What kind of drama?” I ask.

“I think there was cheating involved, but I’m not exactly sure.”

“Ah, okay. I suppose that’s good to know.”

“God, it’s always something with these guys,” Shannon groans. “So, does this mean you’ve officially moved on from ... you-know-who?”

“There was never anything to move on from, Shan,” I say, trying to shrug off the heaviness. “He’s just not interested.”

She swivels in her chair to face me. “He seemed out of sorts the other night, don’t you think? Maybe he was just having an off day?”

“Yeah, maybe.” The words leave my mouth, but I remain unconvinced. It’s pointless to continue wondering what’s going inside that head of his. Instead, I steer the conversation in a new direction. “Are you still up for the Vault later?”

Her face falls. “Oh, I totally forgot to tell you. We have another meeting for Spirit Night.”

I push down a pang of disappointment. “No problem.”

“Sorry, Jade.”

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