Page 95 of The Trade

“Really?” Her gaze desperately searches mine. “Because your teammates seem to think there’s no line they can’t cross. Emmy’s date was making moves on other girls right in front of her.”

Damn it, my teammates could at least try to be more subtle. I bury my face in my hands, groaning. “Oh,” I manage to mumble, feeling the weight of her stare.

“‘Oh’?” she parrots, indignation coloring her voice. “Seriously, tell me what’s going on with you. And while you’re at it, clue me in on why your teammates are acting like predators on the prowl. Is this some sort of sick competition to see who can hook up with the most girls?”

I choke back a shallow breath. “No, it’s not that ... exactly.”

Her eyes narrow even further, if that’s possible, arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Theo, spill it.”

“Look,” I start, my hands clenching and unclenching with anxiety. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, I really have. Way before we even arrived here tonight.”

“Go on.”

“The reason that I’ve been acting weird, the reason that the whole team’s been behaving so oddly tonight ... well, there’s this tradition that we have,” I manage to say, each word feeling like a betrayal.

“What kind of tradition?”

“It’s this silly competition that the team has been doing for ages. The upperclassmen try to swap dates during the banquet every year. If you pull it off, newer recruits have to clean your gear for the next season. But I wasn’t ... I mean, I had no intention of tradingyou.”

My confession hangs between us like a live wire, the air buzzing with tension. Jade just stands there, arms crossed, her deep brown eyes staring holes into me. She’s silent. An uncomfortably long moment stretches between us, and I brace myself for the inevitable fallout.

“Right, okay,” she says softly. The distance between us seems to grow with each heartbeat, as if the weight of my confession has physically pushed us apart. “You were planning on it, though. Weren’t you? When you first asked me?”

The words stick in my throat like broken glass, and I swallow hard against them. “I was ... only at the very start, I swear,” I manage, my voice a pitiful whisper against the harsh truth. “I called it off the night you came over to watch the fight.”

“So, before that, you were just gonna trade me with whoever ... in hopes that you could screw some random girl?” Her tone is lower now, a whisper of barely contained fury.

“That’s not . . . no,” I blurt out, my hands stretching out toward her, yet too afraid to touch. “It wasn’t going to be someone random.”

“What do you mean? Then who—” The words choke off, her eyes widening with the realization. “No, seriously?”

“Jade, just hold on a second. Before you think—”

“This whole thing was a setup so that you could sleep with Shan?”

“No, not the whole thing,” I stammer, panic wriggling in my gut. “Not even close.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She takes a wary step back, body rigid, her words ringing in my ears.

“I’m sorry,” I say, emotion thickening my voice. “I wasn’t thinking about how much I’d like you when I first invited you. It was supposed to be a casual thing. I thought we’d all trade dates at the end of the night and laugh about it later. I didn’t know I’d feel this way about you.”

She scoffs, the bitter edge in her voice slicing through me. “Yeah, you didn’t think you could actually like someone like me, huh? Just a jersey chaser wearing an ugly hand-me-down sweatshirt. I mean, I’m certainly no Shannon O’Connor.”

“No, Jade, you’re perfect.” My hand extends toward her, desperate to bridge the growing distance, but she evades it, stepping further away. “You’re more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me?” she challenges, her voice shaking. “You had so many opportunities to say something, and you didn’t. I even asked you point-blank if you had feelings for Shan.”

My stomach twists. “And I wasn’t lying about that. I never had real feelings for her—it was just a ... physical attraction. I was going to tell you about all of this, I swear. Cam warned me against it at first, but I made up my mind to tell you regardless.”

She closes her eyes, rubbing at her forehead. “I think I’m missing the part where you actually told me.”

“I was going to last weekend after the scrimmage,” I confess, the words clawing their way past the lump in my throat. “But then there was the whole ... article thing.”

“Are you trying to say it was for my own good?” I can picture the gears working in her mind, attempting to rationalize this. “You wanted to make sure I wrote the article, but you thought I’d bail if you told me the truth. Is that it?”

I flinch, another wave of nausea threatening to break. “I, uh, well—”

“No,” she interjects, the disappointment raw in her voice. “It wasn’t about that, was it? This has always been about you. You didn’t tell me because you thought I might write about it. You were worried I’d expose the team.”

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