Page 17 of The Trade

But even still, there’s something about her that sparks my curiosity. A mystery I find myself wanting to solve.

“I mean, there’s her new roommate,” I suggest, mulling it over. “Jade something. She’s cute ...probably single. Plus, I doubt she’d give a shit what I did at the end of the night.”

He shoots me a grin. “Think she’d go for me?”

“Who wouldn’t, man?” I nudge him with my elbow, his broad smile growing even wider. “Brains and brawn combined.”

“Alright.” He chuckles, looking pleased. “I’m game.”

“Sounds like the perfect trade.”

I tip my head back, propping my feet up on the coffee table next to Cam’s. If I was waiting for the right opportunity, well ...I can’t help the fact that this one fell straight into my lap.

And who am I to argue with fate?

6

JADE

Drenchedclothes droop from our shower rod like unwanted houseplants, the water pooling beside my feet and soaking my toes through my socks.

Two nights ago, the dryer in our apartment decided to retire early, leaving Shannon and me to resort to this unsightly temporary solution. But sadly, the novelty of our makeshift clothesline is quickly wearing thin.

And now, all I want is to take a shower without tossing my sopping-wet T-shirts on the cold tile floor.

As I mull over my new morning routine, my phone chimes incessantly from the bedside table. The culprit? My big brother, Mica.

Ace

Apple Pay - $500

Rolling my eyes, I immediately shoot the money back. He’s been trying to fund a new dryer since ours quit on us, but accepting his money just feels wrong. I’d rather not exploit his generosity any more than I already have. I mean, he already covers more than my fair share of the apartment’s rent.

Before I can contemplate further, Mica’s name flashes on my screen once more. This time, he’s chosen a more direct approach—a phone call.

“Stop sending back the money, Lili.” My brother’s demanding voice elicits another eye roll.

“Stop giving me money,” I insist. “I’m just gonna start saving up for a new dryer. In the meantime, we can just hang our clothes up or go to the laundromat.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

“What?” I laugh incredulously. “What do you mean ‘unacceptable’?”

“What if I need to do laundry when I visit next month? I can’t just twiddle my thumbs waiting for my clothes to air dry.”

His words jolt me, and a knot forms in my stomach. “Wait, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“You’re really coming to visit?” The corners of my mouth lift into an automatic smile.

“How does three weeks from Saturday sound?”

“Um, incredible!” I nearly shriek, unable to contain my excitement. “Wait, you didn’t tell Mom and Dad yet, did you?”

“Not yet.” A hesitation lingers in his voice, stretching the silence a second too long. “Why?”

I groan, foreseeing the familial tsunami his visit might trigger. “You know Mom’s gonna want to come, too.”

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