Page 46 of The Trade

“No.” She snorts, clearly amused. “He really did DM me.”

“Jade.” My voice drops, a warning tinge to it.

Her laughter trickles through the line, a sweet melody that somehow softens the edges of my irritation. “Of course I’m fucking with you. I didn’t actually respond. You told me not to go for him, and I won’t.”

The tension finally dissipates, a soft sigh of relief escaping my lips. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe I just like screwing with you.”

“And what if I screw with you back?” I ask, unable to help the grin that tugs at my lips.

“Well . . . that would only be fair play.”

“You better watch your back, then.”

“So dramatic.” I can almost see her rolling her eyes, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. “Okay, I’m officially getting into bed now.”

“That’s fine,” I say, though my chest tightens at the thought of ending the conversation. “I’m actually in bed, too.”

A soft rustling sound filters through the phone. “I mean . . . I’m about to go to sleep, Theo.”

“Oh.” The word falls from my lips, the alcohol in my system encouraging a boldness I wouldn’t usually possess. “Well, before you do, could I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Well, here goes nothing. “I’ve just been wondering, you know—since the other day, just ...what made them so terrible?”

“Huh?”

“You said the sex was terrible,” I echo, my voice carrying an unwelcome strain. “With your exes and ... Freddy. Why?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, really.” There’s a long pause in which I can almost hear her mind whirring, and I nearly regret the question. “I guess it was just boring.”

“Boring?” The word echoes in my mind. I can’t imagine being bored during sex, especially with someone like Jade.

“Yeah, I was just bored of what we were doing. Or, I don’t know, maybe we just weren’t compatible in the bedroom.”

“Yeah?” I swallow hard, a knot forming in my throat. “They didn’t turn you on?”

“No, it’s not that,” she insists, and the words bring a tiny sense of relief. “I mean, I wanted to have sex with them. I was always into it at first.”

Oh God, why did I ask her this? My jaw involuntarily clenches. Please, tell me more about how much you wanted to fuck other guys. “At first?” I manage to squeeze the words out, my throat dry.

“Mhm, but then we’d get to the good stuff, and it would just be . . . blah.”

“Blah?” The confusion is evident in my voice. I can’t understand it, the idea of her not enjoying it, not when she’s so vibrant and full of life.

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice dropping, embarrassment making her words tremble. “I guess, just ... my body didn’t respond to it or something. I mean, the way they were doing it anyway.”

A slow burn of curiosity begins to take root in the pit of my stomach. “So, how would you want it done, then?” My voice comes out lower than I intended, but I blame it on the alcohol, the hour, the intimacy of our conversation.

“What?”

“I think you heard me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, suppressing the rising wave of desire.

She stutters, then falls silent, and I rush to ease her discomfort. “Fuck, sorry,” I say quickly, my free hand furiously running over my forehead. “You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I mean.” Her voice trails off, then comes back stronger. “It’s not a big deal, right?”

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