Page 8 of The Trade

“Right.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, a sudden look of concentration on her face. “So, what’s your first name, Westman-Cooke?”

“Theodore ... uh, Theo.”

“Oh, that’s a nice name.” She gives me an easy smile, but I can already tell another question sits on the tip of her tongue, so I wave a dismissive hand.

“Does everyone call you West, or is it mainly a teammate thing?”

“Everyone.”

“Right.” She purses her lips, nods once. “Makes sense. So, what position do you play, West?”

This fucking girl and her endless stream of questions. “Running back.”

“You any good, then?”

“I’m on a full-ride scholarship at a D1 school.” The corner of my mouth quirks up into a cocky grin. “You tell me.”

“Good argument.” Her brow lifts again. “Any plans to join the NFL?”

“Yes,” I say, working over the muscles of my jaw.

“Thinking about declaring early?”

She fires off these questions like they mean absolutely nothing. Like I haven’t spent the last two months agonizing over the prospect ... as if Coach didn’t think the notion was just some big fucking joke to everyone but me.

I turn my attention back to the redheaded cheerleader beside me. The girl I came over to talk to in the first place ... before I got sidetracked by this nosy little mouse. Yeah, that’s what she reminds me of—a squeaky mouse who can’t be bothered to mind her own business.

I grit my teeth, fighting back my rising temper. Little mouseisShannon’s friend, after all. “Where’d you even find this girl, Shan?”

“I told you.” Shannon narrows her eyes, clearly put out by my sour attitude. “She’s my new roommate.”

Right. Mousy’s just her roommate, not her friend.

“Must be nice living with a jersey chaser,” I half-heartedly mutter.

“Excuse me?” The three syllables hit like a strong wind that blows through the room, freezing everything in its path. I turn back to Jade, her dark eyes sparked with a flare of annoyance, cheeks flushed with indignation. “Sorry, Shannon,” she stammers, obviously flustered, “I just remembered ... I need to go find a book for class.”

She doesn’t wait for any sort of response, pushing her chair back with a loud, grating scrape against the linoleum floor. With a flicker of her dark curls, she disappears among the bookshelves, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake.

“Why are you being so rude?” Shannon’s voice jolts me out of my trancelike state. She punctuates her words with a light shove against my shoulder, a playful gesture that contradicts the serious undertone of her words.

“You’re right.” I sigh, rubbing at my temples. “I’m sorry, I’m not in the best mood.”

She pauses for a moment, her lips pursed in a thoughtful line. Then, with a good-natured roll of her eyes, she waves me off. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” she says, effectively shutting down any lingering awkwardness.

“Yeah.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, nibbling on the soft flesh. “I guess I wasn’t really expecting an interview in the library.”

“That’s actually kind of funny,” she says with a giggle, lip twitching as she struggles to contain her laughter. “Jade’s a reporter for theDaily. She probably just got herself into interviewer mode without even thinking about it.”

“Yeah? Well, shit ...now I really feel like a dick.”

“You should,” she insists, pinning me with a harsh glare. “Jade’s really cool. Actually, now that I think about it, you guys kind of have a lot in common.”

“I’m sure we do.” I shift course, pushing aside the flare of guilt burning in my stomach. “So, you finally did it, huh? Moved out of the Spirit House once and for all?”

Her face brightens. “Yes. It feels so good to be free.”

“Free of Cassidy, you mean?”

---