Page 7 of The Trade

“Hell yeah, dude.”

I suppress a wince as he grabs his to-go cup and turns to leave. While it’s nice to be appreciated by a fellow student, I’m not sure why they always feel the need to put their hands on me in some way or another. I’ve suffered through more than enough random pats on the back, fist bumps, high fives, and the occasional chest stroking to top it all off.

It’s a bit invasive, excessive, even for a guy like me who thrives on physical affection.

“So, you’re on the football team.” The leggy brunette slides her phone into her back pocket, giving me a blatant once-over.

“I am.” I blink, put off by her sudden change in interest.

It’s ridiculous, but I suppose I should know the score by now. I wouldn’t say this campus is necessarily riddled with jersey chasers, but there’s a select few who always manage to make their presence known—girls who are only interested in the potential money, fame, and popularity that comes with bagging an athlete.

I usually wouldn’t complain, but today, it’s just kind of pissing me off.

“My name’s Aaliyah,” she says, her voice sickly sweet. “Would you want to grab coffee sometime?”

“You know, I think I’ll pass.”

She scoffs. I hold back an eye roll. Then I happily swipe my pastries off the counter without another word and head toward the library. Balancing my snack haul with expert finesse, I stroll across the quad to make my way over to North Campus.

It’s undoubtedly my favorite place to study. Mostly because there are no arbitrary rules about not talking, or not eating, or not ... breathing the right fucking way. Somehow, I don’t think I could survive an entire study session with my mouth closed.

Once I’m inside, I glance around in search of Mr. Tutor. I’m still a few minutes early, but if I’m lucky, I might just spot those familiar Coke-bottle glasses of his. Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised by the sight of my favorite redhead.

As soon as Shannon catches my eye, she waves me over with a wide grin. The seat beside her is empty, but an unfamiliar girl sits across from her at the same table. Books and notes are spread out evenly between them.

I slide in beside O’Connor, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair as she turns to face me. “Hey there,” I say, lips curving up. “It’s been a while.”

“Sure has.” The smile on her face is pretty, poised, and polite as I drink her in.

“I haven’t seen you since last term,” I say. “I heard you found a new apartment.”

“I did. Actually, this is my new roommate, Jade.” She gestures across me to her study partner. “She’s also a junior this year.”

“Hi.” Her roommate gives me a small wave and a tiny smile, so I take a moment to soak in her appearance. She has shoulder-length chocolate curls with sun-kissed skin. The top half of her body is mostly hidden beneath a baggy sweatshirt. I suppose she has a cute face—heart-shaped with these big, bold brows—but nothing else about her features really stands out to me.

At least, not when she’s sitting across from O’Connor.

“This is my friend West,” Shannon says, completing the introduction. “You know what? I totally didn’t even think of this before, but he’s actually on the football team here at Dayton.”

I give her an odd look before nodding my confirmation.

“Jade’s a huge football fan,” Shannon says. “She’s got posters of the Bobcats all over the apartment. Did you know, her br—”

“Shan,” Jade interrupts, shaking her head, eyes wide, as if to convey some secret signal.

“Anyway.” Shannon awkwardly clears her throat. “Well, yeah, sorry ...um, what I was trying to say is that Jade loves football.”

Right. I’m sure Jade reallylovesfootball, just like every other supposed superfan at this damn school. In fact, I bet she’s been to each and every game just for pure love of the sport.

“So, you’ve seen me out on the field before?” I ask, trying to mask my skepticism.

“Maybe.” Jade shrugs, squinting her eyes to study my face. “What’s your last name?”

“Uh, it’s Westman-Cooke.”

She cocks one brow. “Your name isWestWestman?”

“No,” I snort out my denial. “West’s a nickname.”

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