Page 52 of Home Game

My smart mouth. This is how I get myself into trouble. This is why I’ve been hit before.

“Yeah, Rebound?”

“What if . . . I don’t care?” My mouth rests in an easy, flat line, and my pulse is right as rain. I actually think I mean those words. Idon’tcare that these guys don’t like me. I don’t care if they call me a rebound, mostly because I know I’m not. The more I get to know Peyton, the more I learn just how honest and genuine she is. And high school cafeteria drama bullshit? That’s not in her wheelhouse. But I’m guessing it is in theirs.

The big guy leans in, placing a hand on my shoulder. It’s offensive, and my hand balls into a fist along my thigh, but I leave it there.

“You care. And she should too,” he says at my ear. When he pulls away, I catch Peyton’s eyes on me from across the dining room. She looks pissed, but I’m not sure at whom.

Rather than tag along behind them and keep this conversation going, knowing full well I’d probably end up getting myself into trouble, I stick to my seat and simply grin as they turn and head out the door.

Maggie sets a plate of pancakes in front of me, and Peyton strolls in my direction with a pitcher of syrup dangling from one hand. Her lips pursed, she holds the syrup hostage as she levels me with a cautious look.

“You don’t have to fight my battles, you know,” she says. I reach for the syrup, but she pulls it into her chest and holds my stare.

I breathe in deep and exhale through my nose.

“I know. And I’m not fighting yours, at least not entirely. I’m fighting mine.”

She blinks slowly but seems to buy my response, setting the syrup down and nudging my plate an inch closer to me.

“You better eat up. You’ll want to be full of energy so you can impress me when you take the field Friday.”

A sheepish grin tugs one side of my mouth up, and I unwrap my knife and fork while I gaze at her.

“We need to find a field first. Ours isn’t ready yet.” I laugh out, then dive into my pancakes, slicing up a few bites, then dousing them in syrup.

“Well, wherever it is. I’ll be there. And I guess I could wear your sweatshirt or something. Just no jersey. I’m notthatgirl.”

I smirk as I glance up at her mid-bite.

“You’re definitely not. You’re something else entirely.”

She taps my nose, seeming satisfied for now that I’ve let the beef with those two CHS players go. But I’m not letting her leave this place alone. I’ll dig out my homework from my truck and set up camp in the corner until she’s off. There’s just something about that guy’s threat that rubs me wrong. They can fuck with me, my field, all they want. But when people start coloring outside their lines, I can’t let that go unchecked. At the very least, I can make sure she gets home safely.

By four in the afternoon, I’ve written notes for a history paper and studied for my economics quiz. I pack up my backpack while Peyton clocks out, and I take her hand when she slips out of her apron and rounds the counter.

“You didn’t have to stay all day,” she says when I hold open her Jeep door for her to climb inside.

I shrug.

“I wanted to. I don’t like you walking out to the parking lot by yourself.”

She laughs and reaches for her door, but I hold it in place until her eyes meet mine.

“The gesture is sweet, Wyatt, but I’ve been walking to my Jeep alone for a while, and I’ve been fine.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have someone watching out for you, though. Just means”— I shrug—“You haven’t.” It’s a dig at Bryce for sure, but also maybe her dad.

She sucks in her lip and nods, and I let her pull her door shut on her own. She turns the engine over and rolls her window down as I walk to my truck.

“You might as well see me home, then,” she shouts.

I chuckle and lift up my hand.

“Planned on it.”

Peyton’s out of the parking lot by the time I get into my truck, but I catch up to her by the first light. I keep her within a few car lengths for the entire route home, catching her gaze on me in her rearview whenever we pause at stop signs and lights. I pull up behind her in her driveway and rush out in time to take her hand as she gets out of her Jeep. She rolls her eyes because, yeah, I’m being a little corny about it now, but also, I just really want to give her all my attention.

---