The Trade (Coastal Rivals Book 1)

There are two weeks left until this term ends, which means I have fourteen days to prove myself to Jade. To prove I deserve a second chance.

I have to make it through one last spring practice, Dayton’s Spirit Night, and three grueling finals before summer hits. Before Jade leaves for Washington. Before training camp starts and I lose all sense of time.

But before all this can happen, there’s one wrong I need to right.

I set up a meeting with both my team captains, Noah and Danny. While Noah was elected leader of the offense, my housemate spearheads the defensive team. If all else fails, I know I can count on them to have my back.

“What’s this about?” Danny asks, settling into our living room couch.

“I want to put a lifetime ban on the Trade,” I tell them, scrubbing a hand across my forehead. “I need your support bringing this to the team.”

“Damn.” Noah lets out a low whistle. “That’s gonna be a hard sell.”

I grit my teeth. “No shit.”

“I’m fully behind that idea,” Danny says, expression earnest. “Sofia thinks the whole thing is bullshit, anyway.”

I arch a brow. “You told your girlfriend about it?”

“Of course.” Danny gives me an affronted look. “I’m not gonna keep it a secret. Not when my teammates are making assholes of themselves right in front of her. Besides, she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Right.” I purse my lips, stomach sinking. “The whole thing is fucked. We should have gotten rid of it a long time ago.”

“I agree.” Noah rubs the underside of his jaw. “But I think the team’s gonna be pissed about breaking tradition. Especially all the rising underclassmen.”

“Fuck that,” I bite. “We’ll make a new tradition. A competition that doesn’t jeopardize our careers or make us look like total assholes.”

“What do you propose?” Danny asks.

“Why don’t we just let the team decide?”

“Okay, you have my support.” Danny pushes off the couch, slinging his duffel over one shoulder. “We doing this after practice today?”

“That was the plan.” I shift my gaze to Noah, awaiting his verdict. “You with us?”

“Fuck yeah, dude. Let’s do this.”

And so, after an exhausting final practice, we gather the team for a secret post-practice meeting, far from Coach’s prying eyes. Noah, as our starting quarterback, takes the lead.

“Alright, guys, we have a new mandate for next year,” he begins, cutting through the chatter. “We’re getting rid of the Trade. We’re here tonight to brainstorm other competition ideas for the banquet.”

The room falls silent. So silent that the echo of a pin dropping would sound like a gong. The uncomfortable quiet only lasts for a moment before it’s shattered by an objection.

“This is bullshit,” McNair’s voice cuts through the tension. “You doing this ’cause of Steph?”

“No,” Noah says immediately, flicking a glance at me. I return his look with a silent nod of solidarity. “West proposed this idea. And both of your team captains are fully behind this decision.”

The team explodes into a flurry of heated murmurs, a few enraged protests puncturing the charged atmosphere.

Miller, the absolute shithead, is the next to rise. “Of course you would fuck with the tradition,” he bellows, his voice projecting over the crowd. “You’ll all be graduating next year, and you all have girlfriends.”

A wave of frustration sweeps over me. “It doesn’t matter if we’re single or not,” I snap back. “It’s some fucked-up shit, and we’re not doing it anymore.”

“We don’t have to listen to you,” McNair sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is supposed to be our legacy for the underclassmen. It’s tradition at Dayton, and you’re not the one who gets to make decisions for the team.”

A hot surge of determination burns through me. “Yeah, but you have to listen to your captains,” I say, the words firm with conviction. “Noah and Danny agree with me on this.”

Danny, always the mediator, jumps in. “He’s right,” he affirms, his tone leveled yet decisive. “Besides, if this is leaked, the women on this campus wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

McNair’s response is a defiant cross of his arms. A silence drops over the room, heavy and expectant. I rake my gaze over each teammate, challenging them with a silent dare. Anyone else want to argue?

“If any of you decide to pull some shit next year, I’ll personally ensure that Coach is made aware,” I say, my voice slicing through the quiet. “I don’t give a fuck if that incriminates me.”

In the next moment, Noah steps up. “All in agreement, say aye.”

The room pulses with energy as “Ayes” resound from every corner. I’m left stunned, a victorious grin threatening to break across my face. Satisfaction floods through me, washing away the tension that’s been knotted in my gut for weeks now.

I know this was the right thing to do. And God, it was so much fucking easier than I could’ve ever imagined.

As the morning light filters in, I sit at my kitchen table, pen in hand, poring over a note for Jade. My phone lies nearby, having dictated my words via speech-to-text, and a small pile of discarded drafts gathers at my side. Each slipup results in another crumpled ball of paper, but I don’t stop until my message is just right.

Jade—

Will you meet me at the batting cages for one more shot?

Tomorrow morning—10:00am.

I’ll try my best not to strike out this time.

—Theo

My palms are sweating, heart racing as I drop the coffee on her doorstep. It’s a tricky balance, giving her the space she needs while subtly showing her I still care. Hell, I don’t even know if she read the first note I left.

Maybe she tossed it in the trash. Maybe she’ll toss this one as well.

If tomorrow comes without a word from her, I’ll have to rethink my strategy. But time is against me. We’re smack in the middle of Dead Week, the calm before the storm of finals, where procrastination runs the show.

The single highlight of this stressful week is Spirit Night, an event put together by the cheerleading team. It’s meant to be a break in the chaos, a night where the entire campus comes together to let loose before diving headlong into the pressure of final exams. The event is filled with friendly competition, culminating in a bonfire under the stars.

Unfortunately, Coach Rodriguez has made it mandatory for our team to attend.

It’s meant to be the last big blast before the end of the school year, and it’s happening tonight. Under normal circumstances, I might be excited. But the thought of celebrating feels off, all things considered.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my thoughts, and an unexpected message lights up my screen.

JADE

I’ll be there tomorrow, 10am

A rush of relief washes over me, followed by a strange fluttering of anticipation, a wishful longing for the girl who sets my world on fire.

I tuck my phone back in my pocket, a small grin tugging at my lips. On second thought, Spirit Night might not be so bad after all. Moreover, a night of friendly competition might be just what I need to keep me grounded until tomorrow.

A few hours later, I find myself smack-dab in the middle of a fierce game of tug-of-war. The cheerleaders herd us onto the field, placing the football and baseball guys against the ice hockey and men’s soccer teams. You’d think it’s a clean sweep for us, but the hockey guys pack a punch. Still, our linebackers come in clutch, pulling us to a last-minute victory.

Before I can even process the win, we’re herded off to the next activity. I catch whispers of “balloon pop” and “relay race” threading through the crowd. Great. What kind of circus did I just volunteer for?

Suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through my internal groan. “Oh, hey. If it isn’t my favorite scumbag.”

“Hey, Shan.” I heave a sigh, breaking away from the next lineup. “I’m assuming you had a chat with Jade.”

“Yep,” she says, arms defensively crossed over her chest. She looks away briefly to direct some stray players back to the field, but her accusing glare remains. “Your team’s pretty fucked-up, huh?”

“Yeah, well, we’re done with all that bullshit now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kind of wanted to tell Jade first,” I say, awkwardly clearing my throat. “If that’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You mean tomorrow, at the batting cages?”

A tiny sliver of hope pangs inside my chest. “Did she say anything else about it? Do you think I have another shot?”

She gives me a noncommittal shrug. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Right,” I mutter, my brief hope deflating. “And hey, I’m sorry for involving you in all this. There was a harmless attraction there, but it faded as soon as I got to know Jade.”

She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Just make it right with her, will you?”

“I’ll try my best,” I promise.

By the time the field games wrap up, I’m wiped out. My encounter with Shannon had jolted me, making the rest of the games seem like a breeze in comparison. That’s the only reason I chose to stick around for the farewell bonfire.

There’s no way I could’ve sat at home, struggling to study while my insides twist into a tight coil, my mind fraying at the edges.

Because tomorrow, my fate is sealed. One way or another, Jade is going to make a decision. I still have hope that she might give us another chance, but there’s also a niggling doubt whispering that she won’t.

For now, the only thing I can control is my actions and pray that they’re enough for her.

As the bonfire roars an hour into the night, I distract myself with cold beer and small talk. Despite the emotional rollercoaster, it’s a beautiful night, even if the heat from the fire feels like a physical manifestation of my anxiety.

Needing a breather, I excuse myself from the crowd, finding a quiet spot and an empty bench, attempting to clear the smoke from my head.

The moment I let my eyes drift closed, a warm weight plops down on my lap, yanking me from the brink of much-needed solitude. “So, did you finally get what you wanted?” a voice slurs slightly.

I jerk awake, jaw hardening. “Cass.” My voice is as cold as ice. “I’m gonna give you two seconds to get the hell off me.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“Stop talking,” I snap, my patience fraying.

“Fine.” With a careless shrug, she slides off my lap, her unsteady movements causing her bottle to tip and spill its contents over my shoes. “Whoops.”

The beer-soaked bottle lies forgotten on the ground between us. “You planning on picking that up?”

“Why?” Her smirk is all too familiar. “You want me down on my knees again?”

I resist the urge to grind my teeth. “Jesus, Cass,” I growl, getting up to snatch the empty bottle from the ground. “Give me a break.”

She feigns innocence, her hand finding its way onto my forearm. “I heard you and your little girlfriend broke up anyway.”

I pull away from her. “That’s none of your damn business.”

A malicious glint sparks in her eyes. “What happened? Did she find out you actually just wanted to sleep with her roommate? God, West. History does have a way of repeating itself.”

I can practically taste the anger on my tongue. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm,” she hums, the smugness in her voice making my blood boil. “Really? Because I saw your ex earlier tonight.”

My heart skips a beat. “Here?” I demand. “At the bonfire?”

She nods, confirming my worst fear. “If I remember right . . . she was all over Remi Miller.”

I snap my mouth shut, shoving the bottle back into her hand with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you stop trying to start shit?”

She just shrugs. “Fine, don’t believe me, then.”

“I won’t,” I spit, turning to walk away.

But the seeds of doubt she’s planted are already sprouting, and my heart is pounding like a war drum in my chest. Should I try to find Jade? If she’s actually here tonight, then maybe I should . . . go the fuck home. The knowledge of our meetup tomorrow urges me to stay away, to keep a clear head for the conversation we need to have.

But if Miller’s actually after her, then maybe I have an actual reason to seek her out. The guy’s a fucking dick, and right now, he’s probably pissed at me.

Who knows what sort of stunt he might attempt?