Page 53 of The Trade

His brows shoot up, skepticism etched across his features. “Really?” I return his doubt with a definitive nod. “Alright, then. Atta boy.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I clap my hands together, determination coiling in my stomach. “I need your advice, though. Where should I take her? I’m not exactly an expert in this whole dating arena.”

He levels me with a dubious look. “You’ve never been on a date before?”

“I’ve been on dates,” I clarify, “but I never really cared about the details—where we went, what we did. They were more of a stepping stone to ... other activities, if you get my meaning.”

His eyes narrow for a moment before realization dawns. “And this isn’t?”

“Fuck no, it isn’t,” I say, my tone dead serious. “I want her to enjoy herself, to remember this night.”

“Right, so what’s she into?”

“Well, she’s a football fan, studious, a writer.” I mention the tidbits I’ve gathered about her. “Also, a huge fan ofNew Girl. We just binged a few episodes this morning.”

“She seems down-to-earth. Relaxed.” He rubs his neck in contemplation. “Maybe a chill spot like a diner or sports bar? Maybe follow it up with something fun, like putt-putt golf or batting cages?”

“Camden Scott,” I drawl, a grin spreading across my face. “You’re a certified genius.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He dismisses me with a wave, a smug smile taking over his features. “Just add it to the list.”

“Appreciate it, man. I’ll keep you posted on how it pans out.”

He tosses me a casual salute. “Good luck tonight.”

As I retreat to my room, my stomach contracts with an uneasy feeling. No, wait, it’s more like . . . a slow fluttering in my gut.

God forbid, I think I’m actually nervous for tonight.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like this about a girl. It must’ve been when I was sixteen. The sensation, surprisingly, is invigorating. It’s a spark of change, a different rhythm in my predictable life.

Whatever it is—this uneasiness, this thrill—all I know is that I really fucking like it.

* * *

Hours melt into late afternoon,and Jade and I are setting up at the batting cages. I gave her a few options, and this is what she picked. Honestly, she seemed pretty fucking stoked about the idea herself.

It’s a good thing my girl is so easy to please.

I sit back on the metallic bleachers, my legs stretched out, one foot propped atop the other. My gaze is drawn to Jade, who stands poised by the plate. She looks so fucking cute in that oversized helmet, wearing nothing else but her tiny little T-shirt and shorts. Her dark curls cascade down her back, kissing the soft curve of her spine.

As she shifts her weight, digging her heels into the artificial turf, the muscles of her calves tighten. The sight sends an unfamiliar pang shooting through my chest, only to settle lower—a sudden, gut-clenching pull that stirs beneath my belt.

I’m eager to wrap her curls around my fist, to slide my hands up her legs, to touch the soft place between her thighs. Every little piece of her seems to be calling my name. I nearly jolt out of my seat a moment later, her body perfectly pivoting as she makes contact with the ball.

“Oh, God,” I groan involuntarily. “This was a seriously bad idea.”

Her gaze flickers to me, her face a picture of adorable confusion. “Why?”

“Watching you swing that bat ...well, it’s a huge fucking turn-on.”

She looks back at me, a flicker of a knowing smile playing on her lips. “So, watching me do this—” She swings again, the sound of the crack ricocheting through the air. “—makes you hard?”

“Jade, everything you do makes me hard.”

She drops the bat, leveling me with a seductive stare. “Theo.”

“Uh-huh,” I choke out.

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