Page 89 of The Trade

“Round two already?” she jokes, flipping around to face me. Her fingers curl around my shoulders, face flushed as she steadies herself against me.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. I have something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“Oh! I actually have something I want to tell you, too.”

“Okay, we can sort it out when we get to my place.”

“Can I just tell you my news now? I’m really excited about it, and all I’ve been thinking about is sharing it with you.”

“Of course.”

“Garrett is letting me write a piece on the banquet,” she reveals, the pride evident in her voice.

My mouth runs dry, heart clenching. “Our banquet?”

“Yeah, I called him after you left my apartment earlier. Told him I was going to write about the scrimmage anyway.”

“Oh?”

“He ended up offering me this article instead—said if I did a good enough job, then he’d let me work sports next season.”

My palms are sweating. “That’s, uh, wow.”

She gives me an odd look, brows furrowing. “I mean, I know it’s just another boring puff piece ...but maybe I could spice it up a little. You know, now that I have the inside scoop.”

I swallow back a giant lump in my throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, she’s got the inside scoop alright. If I tell her about the Trade, she’ll have the fucking scoop of the year.

But I can’t keep this shit inside me any longer. She thinks I’m straightforward, honest even. She thinks I’m worthy of being with her. How do I reconcile that with what I’ve been hiding?

So, I gather up my courage, but all that comes out is this: “That’s great, Jade.”

“Do you think you could get me an interview with Elliot?” she asks eagerly. “Everyone loves to hear from the QB. Oh, and maybe Cam would be a good option, too. You said he was part of the planning committee, right?”

With every excited word, my resolve crumbles a little more.

“Sure, of course,” I say, but my voice betrays the anxiety I’m feeling.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head, wiping my palms down the front of my jeans. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“I mean ...I know that when you first invited me, it was more of a friendly group hangout. But now things have changed between us, so if you don’t want me to be, like, working during the event or—”

“That’s not it. I’m happy for you, baby. This is what you wanted.”

“Yeah, it is,” she says, her smile radiant as she wraps her arms around me. “Honestly, it works out so great. I was already planning on going with you, so it’s, like, oddly perfect.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, the affirmation tasting bitter on my tongue. “Just perfect.”

26

JADE

West has been actingall shades of strange since yesterday afternoon. After our little bathroom tryst—where he bent me over, claimed me, left me breathless—he’s been oddly silent, especially after I dropped the news about the article.

Back at his place, he plastered on a smile, brushing off my concerns with a casual, “I just need to sleep it off.” He chalked it up to postgame fatigue, but there was a tension in his voice that gave me pause.

We slid into his bed together, my body finding its rightful place against him. He held me close, wrapping me up in his strong arms. But despite the comfort I felt, there was a rigidity to the way he held me. Something was gnawing at him, keeping him on edge.

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