Page 7 of Home Game

“One, two, three?—”

“Bear Down!” we all shout.

The whistles from the football team come about a half second later, and some of our younger members blush and giggle. I don’t even bother glancing over my shoulder. I know Bryce was the loudest of them all. He wants my attention, for me to melt that he’s noticing me. Last year, I melted. And just like that we were back together again. I spent the season right by his side,feeling his ups and downs, especially when our football team was knocked out in the first round of the playoffs thanks to his last-minute interception. I lost myself in him, and I didn’t even flinch when he flirted with other girls in front of me. I was used to it. I bought in to the easy excuses—date the most popular guy in southern Arizona and deal with the attention he gets . . .needs.

Somehow, I don’t find him as attractive as I used to. Sure, he’s good looking. But that feeling I once got in my stomach when he smiled at me or slung his arm over my shoulder has morphed into a different kind entirely. I think my mom was right when I talked to her about it. Bryce and I have grown apart. At least, I’ve grown apart from him. My dad, however, still sees us as together. And that’s half my battle—shedding my dad’s expectations for who I date. Funny how hard I fought to get him to approve of Bryce in the first place when we were freshmen.

“Hey,” Lexi says, bumping her hip into mine. I glance at her and avoid looking anywhere beyond her. “We’re thinking of heading into the city for the night. Tasha’s mom said she’d get us a suite in Scottsdale so we can maybe go to a salon. You know, do the hair and nails thing before school officially starts. You in?”

I chew at the inside of my cheek. I haven’t had a lot of friends’ time this summer, so maybe my mom will be on board. I’m almost eighteen; a week shy. She has to trust me at some point.

“Yeah, let me run it by my dad,” I say, knowing he’ll be the easier one to sell the idea on.

“Awesome. I’ll swing by your house to pick you up in an hour. Tasha will make our appointments for the morning.” My friend holds out her pinky and we shake, a ritual the three of us have done since first grade. We’re inseparable—Lexi, Tasha, and me—and the pinky promise carries a lot of weight. We use it for everything from silent good-byes to secret promises.

“Hi, Mr. Johnson,” Lexi says as her eyes peer over my shoulder. She bats her lashes, an annoying thing she’s doneto my dad since we started getting into boys in sixth grade. I suppose to many females my dad is handsome. But he’s my dad, and Lexi is eighteen. And my parents are so in love it’s nauseating. And gross. I don’t want to even think beyond that.

“Lex, good to see you. Say hi to your dad for me,” he says, careful to use that parental tone he reserves for when he wants to be taken seriously. Or when he wants my friend to stop flirting with him.

“Will do. See you later,” Lexi adds, giving one last batt of her lashes before skipping off toward the parking lot.

I shake my head and roll my eyes.

“You need a lift tonight, old man?” I poke my elbow into my dad’s side, then turn to lift up on my toes so he can kiss the top of my head.

“I’m not sure when exactly my Jeep becameyourJeep, but yeah, I’m gonna need a ride home,” he says, chuckling.

“Okay, just let me pack this stuff up and we can go.” I take our team prop bag from the bench and unzip it wide to stuff in our pompoms and the foldable CHS letters we use for dance routines. I turn to scoop up the few remaining pompoms at my other side and halt when I’m met by a bare-chested Bryce, who kindly picked the stragglers up for me.

“Thanks,” I say, trying not to sound annoyed. I hold the bag open and he drops the pompoms inside, then quickly takes the bag straps from my hand. He zips it closed and slings the bag over his arm. I think he assumes he’ll be walking me to my car.

“Oh, I got it. Dad and I drove together, so?—”

“I thought maybe we could get a bite?” Bryce shrugs, an innocent-looking gesture that I know he’s rehearsed.Thatused to work on me too.

“Uh, I . . .”

“I can take the Jeep home. You go on. I’ll let your mom know you’ll miss dinner,” Dad says. I know the two of them didn’t plotthis together, but it still feels that way. I almost give in, then remember Lexi—my savior.

“Wait, no. I can’t!” I grip my dad’s wrist before he has a chance to walk away. His face scrunches up as his eyes draw in.

“I told Lexi and Tasha I would hang out with them. Tasha’s mom paid for a hotel suite in the city, and?—”

“Whoa, whoa. I’m sorry, but what? No. You are not going to party in the city and shack up in some hotel. Did you run this by your mom yet? Because I’m sure she’s not on board.” He’s shaking his head at me and my shoulders deflate. He wouldn’t have cared if I didn’t have an alternative set of plans with his ideal match for me.

“Right, I know. I was going to ask Mom when I got home, but it’s just that Tasha’s mom already paid,” I say, having no clue whether that’s true or not. “And school starts in a few days. I’ve spent the summer working and haven’t really seen the girls much.”

“They’re at our house almost every night,” my dad responds.

I sigh.

“Yeah, I know. But that’s not the same. I come home tired from a long day of work, and all we do is stream some show and fall asleep.” I stop to let my dad finish his sudden fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry, but you come home after a hard day’s work? You . . . are exhausted?” My dad holds his gut as he laughs out hard, then holds his side as if it’s given him a cramp. I cross my arms over my chest and purse my lips.

“Jack’s is hard work. Stop making a joke out of it. And I’ve taken my responsibilities very seriously. Remember? Building character?” I blink a few times and hold my frown firm. My dad stifles his laughter and finally composes himself, clearing his throat enough to utter a short, “Sorry.”

“I mean, she did have to serve pancakes to Wyatt Stone,” Bryce pipes in.

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