Page 83 of The Trade

“Alright, then it’s settled. Have a nice afternoon, Jade.”

“Thank you, Garrett. You too.”

I hang up, reeling, still in disbelief. Who would have thought it could be so simple? The good old Westman-Cooke method actually worked.

* * *

An hour later,I meet up with Maya and Sophie, a couple of girls I know from the paper. We’re not too close, but our paths have crossed enough over the years to form a casual friendship. And while we don’t have much else in common, I enjoy how easygoing they are.

They’re fun and flirty, and their infectious excitement is exactly what I need for the game tonight.

They’re already waiting for me at the agreed-upon spot, their outfits proudly showcasing our school’s colors—emerald green and gold. West has made sure I’m equally decked out. His jersey hangs off me, a sweet reminder of our commitment, and I can’t help but feel all sorts of giddy inside.

“Hey, you two,” I greet them, beaming. “Let’s go grab our seats.”

Maya’s response is a quick, warm hug. “Jade! You look so cute.”

An exchange of compliments follows as we link arms and navigate our way into the pulsing heart of the stadium. Even with kickoff forty-five minutes away, the stands are already brimming with anticipation.

It’s our first spring scrimmage, and the football-starved students are eager to witness the action. A lump of excitement nestles in my stomach as well. I’ve always loved everything about the game—the energetic buzz, the fervor of the fans, the players’ relentless drive, and now, the exhilaration of watching West play.

As we settle into our seats, my gaze combs over the crowd in search of his number. A thrill runs through me when I spot him on the sidelines. Decked out in his gear, he’s a fucking sight to behold, his dark hair swept back, helmet gripped casually in one hand.

Sophie nudges me. “Found him?”

“Mhm,” I confirm, a little breathless. I point him out right away. “He’s there, number thirty-eight.”

Maya’s eyes light up. “Oh, I see him!” She then proceeds to cup her hands around her mouth and yell, “Number thirty-eight!We love you!”

The bold display earns us the attention of half the nearby crowd, but most importantly, West’s. His gaze sweeps over the stands, eventually landing on us. A wide grin splits his face, and he salutes me, throwing in a wink for good measure.

Maya giggles. “See! Totally worth it.”

“He’s a hottie,” Sophie sighs before quickly adding, “Sorry, that’s your man.”

I laugh, waving off her apology. “Don’t be. I know he’s hot.”

We continue our lighthearted conversation, the kickoff approaching rapidly. My attention, however, keeps diverting to the field, drawn by the energy radiating from West. The game hasn’t even started yet, and I’m already enthralled.

The opening announcements blare out, revealing that Coastal’s won the coin toss. Predictably, they choose to receive, banking on their impressive offensive stats. The kickoff initiates a frenzied start to the game, the Ospreys putting up a solid offense, leading to an early touchdown and conversion.

Then it’s our turn to strike back. It comes as no surprise that Coach Rodriguez called in Noah as the starting quarterback. A redshirt freshman who, over the years, has risen in ranks.

Noah’s impressive out the gate, but his efforts aren’t being matched by our receivers. A sequence of crucial drops on the third down disrupts our momentum, which leaves a window of opportunity wide open for the Ospreys.

Despite the odds, by halftime, we claw our way back to a tie, the scoreboard reading 14-14.

In need of a break, I let my friends know I’m headed to the restroom. I tug my jersey over my shorts, prepping to navigate through the crowd.

Sophie, eager to help, leans in and yells, “Do you want some company?”

“That’s okay,” I shout back. “I can find my way back if you stay here.”

“Alright, text us if you get lost.”

I slowly weave my way through the chaos around me. To my relief, the line for the women’s restroom isn’t too long yet. And after waiting a few minutes, I’m able to slip inside.

I slide my shorts down, getting comfortable in the confines of the small restroom stall. I had expected this to be a brief sanctuary of calm. But it’s more like a hub of animated gossip instead, the whispers and giggles echoing in the tiled space.

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