Page 44 of Home Game

I sigh.

“It’s not. But I don’t think it’s a thing either of us are talking about with a lot of people yet. And I’m pretty sure her dad hates me, so . . .”

“Coach J? No way! If he gets to know you, he’ll love you. You’re his perfect player. You throw so much like him, man.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I think he’s pretty committed to Hampton.” My stomach turns at the thought of Bryce with Peyton. I don’t begrudge her for her past, but I hate that he got to have anything with her. He doesn’t deserve the memories.

“That’s just ’cause Bryce wins. I promise you, if they drop more than a game this season, that guy’s status will dive big time in Coach J’s eyes,” Whiskey says.

“Hasn’t he only lost, like, two games in three years?” I don’t know why I qualify that. It has only been two. I know exactly the ones. When a guy constantly bumps you out of the top QB ranking for the state, you pay attention to everything he does. You use it for motivation.

Whiskey shrugs and drops down into his seat.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have the team he had around him before. You have that team, plus some.”

His phone begins to play music a second later, so I don’t bother arguing with him again. And anyway, he’s kind of right. I do have Bryce’s old team—half of it. And the pieces we have are committed and full of heart.

I scoop my bag from beneath the seat and dig out my phone. My mom sent me her videos, which I appreciate, but she’s still not great at following the action. I’ll get the video clips from our assistant coach next week, but I text herthanksanyhow. I hope she left in the fourth like I told her to. It’s a long drive from the Valley back out to Coolidge.

The next message is from my dad’s old captain, Jeff.

JEFF:I smell a new record, kid! Your dad is looking down proud.

I heart his message and silently read it over a few times.My dad predicted I’d close in on some state records by now. God, he would have loved to be here for it.

I swipe to my contacts and hover over Peyton’s picture. I stole it from her socials, and I’m sure she’ll be pissed that I took one of her in her cheer uniform, but I am not ashamed. She’s hot. And the cheer uniform? Yeah, it does it for me. Big. Time.

As if somehow the universe whispered to her that I’m thinking of her, my phone buzzes in my hand with a text from her.

PEYTON:I saw the score. Nice win!

Ours was a much closer game than theirs. Fourteen to three compared to their thirty-six to zero. Coach Watts told me Coach Johnson likes to stack the schedule that way to build his team’s confidence, but I don’t think it’s the right move. I think that route gives false confidence. And when the real tests come, how can they know if they’re really up to the job?

ME:It wasn’t a shutout like yours.

PEYTON:Shutouts are boring.

I laugh out loud, then sink down before anyone notices.

ME:I wouldn’t mind one.

PEYTON:Maybe you should practice more.

I smile at her comeback. We were up, probably too late, last night talking about my schedule and practice regimen. My dad instilled me with my discipline. It definitely does not come from my mom, who is habitually about five minutes late to everything in life.

Not my dad. My grandpa, his dad, was a former Marine, and growing up in their house there was a strict respect for sticking to a schedule. My dad loosened up a little over the years, likely from never being able to convert my mom to being a time-obeyer, but when it came to reaching my goals in my sport, there were definitely charts involved.

ME:I did skip my morning run. I was sleepy for some reason.

I was exhausted because I stayed up until two talking to Peyton. I fought through sleepy eyes just to keep her on the phone. My ass paid for it tonight, too, because I was definitely gassed by the fourth quarter. On fresh legs, I probably would have made it into the end zone on that last drive. Twenty-one to three is definitely a bigger statement win. But we won. And I’m not in the hunt for rushing yards. I’m chasing throw touchdown numbers and passing yards.

PEYTON:Was it worth it?

I don’t even have to think about it.

ME:Absolutely.

In fact, I’d rather spend tonight learning more about her over the phone than sitting on the outskirts of some desert party where my presence is clearly not wanted. Unless, of course, she’ll be there, and I can learn things about her in person. While touching her. And kissing her.

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