The Trade (Coastal Rivals Book 1)

I can’t believe how ridiculous this whole situation feels. I’ve spent most of the past week stressed-out about this event, but it’s just the same old banquet we have every year.

First comes the mindless mingling, then an over-the-top meal, followed by an endless string of awards. This year, I’ve managed to snag a “Solid Rock” award—my first ever. On any other day, I’d be drowning in a heady rush of pride, soaking up the validation. But right now, it doesn’t even feel like a blip on my radar.

I’m too consumed by this silly ritual that’s hovered over my head for weeks now. The fucking Trade. A tradition that once felt like a playful rite of passage, now morphing into a crushing burden. I wish I had been honest with Jade from the get-go. Maybe she’d have been pissed for a while, but we could’ve moved past it, together.

And now, the secret feels like a ton of steel, pressing down on me, threatening to break me under its weight.

“Your date’s pretty hot, man.” Conor McNair’s smarmy voice interrupts my turmoil, forcing me to whip around.

“Damn right, she is,” I snap, the words grinding out between clenched teeth. “And she’s also off-limits.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d already be locked into a trade with Cam.” His smirk stretches wide across his face, his eyes glinting with an infuriating cockiness. I want to smack it right off him. “I can respect that.”

“No, there’s no trade,” I say, my voice rigid with irritation. “Jade’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh?” He cocks a brow. “I mean, dude, everyone knows you’ve been after Shannon since freshman year. I just figured you’d be trading for her.”

“Keep your goddamn voice down,” I snarl.

And then, just as I’m about to lose my cool completely, Jade’s voice floats in, filled with an undercurrent of worry. “Theo, there you are.”

Spinning around, I lock eyes with her, hoping to hell she didn’t overhear our conversation. “Jade,” I say, trying to infuse some semblance of normalcy into my voice.

“Uh, I’m just gonna slip out of here,” McNair mumbles, picking up on the tension. “Gotta get back to my date.”

Once he’s sauntered off, I turn back to Jade. “Did you hear any of that?” I ask, apprehension tingeing my words.

“No, why?”

I shake my head, dismissing the question. “No reason.”

“Theo, I can tell something’s off. You’ve been acting weird for days now.”

“I know,” I confess, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “I’m sorry.”

She gives me a derisive snort. “That’s all I get? An ‘I’m sorry’?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble as I run a hand through my hair.

A frustrated sigh escapes her, and she gazes upward, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know, when you ditched me just now . . . your friend Miller made a pass at me.”

“What?” My anger surges back with a vengeance. Fucking Miller. He’s a dead man.

“Yeah, he didn’t even bother being subtle about it,” she grumbles. “He was caressing my thigh and everything.”

A flood of rage washes over me. “He what? He fucking touched you? Jesus Christ, didn’t that dipshit get the fucking memo?”

“What memo?”

“That you’re off-limits tonight.”

Her eyes narrow. “Off-limits? I’m not property.”

“I know that,” I say defensively, my nostrils flaring in agitation. “But you’re my girlfriend. My teammates should respect that.”

“And what about the rest?” she demands, one brow cocked. “Should they feel free to just hit on every other girl here? Date or not?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“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 trading you.”

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.”

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, desperation seeping into my voice. The apology feels woefully inadequate, but I’m out of words.

Her jaw clenches, sorrow-filled eyes boring into me. “Do all your teammates know that you were planning to trade me?”

The question is a devastating blow, and I wince at the impact. “Jade.”

“Great, so they all know.” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Glad to hear it. Do you think one of them would still fuck me, or am I just spoiled goods now?”

“Baby, fuck . . . can we please go back to my place and talk about this?” I’m begging now, my pride discarded at her feet. “Please?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to leave just yet,” she says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears yet her chin tilted in defiance. “I don’t have enough content for my article.”

The realization slams into me, and my heart plummets. “You aren’t—” My voice breaks. “Are you seriously going to write about this in the Daily?”

“It’s only fair play,” she snaps, her eyes alight with a fire that sets my nerves on edge. “After all, you boys love the thrill of a competition. Let’s see how you handle a real fallout.”

Panic seizes me. “Jade, you can’t do that. Coach will bench anyone who—”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, West.” She cuts me off, venom dripping from her words. “I’m leaving. By myself. And don’t worry about your precious team. I won’t put this bullshit in my article.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s a hollow victory. The damage to us is already done, even if she spares the team. “Thank you,” I manage to croak.

She snorts, her expression hardening. “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because I won’t let you and your ridiculous tradition ruin my career. I’m not going to get kicked off the paper for trying to burn bridges with the team.”

“Okay,” I murmur, my gaze fixated on the ground. The taste of regret is heavy on my tongue. “Jade, I—”

“I never really knew you at all, did I?”

Her accusation stings. “You did,” I insist, clinging to the remnants of what we had. “You do. Sometimes, I feel like you’re the only person who really does.”

“Well, that sucks for you because it’s over. We’re done.”

“I know I fucked up.” The confession is a weak counter to her conviction. “So badly. But just . . . please don’t give up on what we have.”

“You’re a fucking liar, West.” She swipes a hand over her eyes, smudging her mascara. “What we had was built on lies. And I’m done with it now, so let me go.”

“Jade, please.”

“I stood in front of you a week ago and told you how much I valued your honesty.” Her voice wavers, unsteady and broken. “I told you I was afraid that you’d play games with me, and you said nothing.”

“I know, I—”

But she’s not done, her gaze shifting away from me and out to the gardens. “I can barely look at you right now, so I need to leave.”

“Baby—”

“If you say one more word, I’m going to start screaming,” she warns, her voice dangerously low. “I’m leaving now. Don’t you dare think about following me.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing from my life as abruptly as she entered it. Her name catches in my throat. I can’t go after her now, not when she’s begged me to stay. So, I’m left alone, the taste of my regret lingering as a stark reminder of my mistakes.

I fucked up, so badly, and I lost her.

I lost everything.