Page 27 of The Wrong Quarterback

“That was fucking weird,” Matty grunted as we parted ways with the other initiate and set off toward the street where we all lived. It wasn’t that far away. We definitely could have done without the trunk ride.

Or any of it, obviously.

“Very weird,” I muttered, extremely annoyed about the fact that the sky was already streaked with the orange of early dawn, and I was going to have to play a game today with minimal sleep.

I was also annoyed that this would be another thing that took away from my plans for Casey. That was unacceptable, actually.

Jace abruptly started to laugh, the sound almost a giggle.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Matty, his patience completely gone.

“You should have seen the chick’s face when they came to get me. She probably thinks I died,” Jace cackled, stopping and bending over because he was laughing so hard. “She was screaming so loud.”

That got a grin out of me…and Matty, as we both pictured the scene.

“This won’t be so bad, it can’t be, right?” Jace asked when he’d finally recovered.

Matty and I glanced at each other, my wariness reflected in his eyes.

I mean how bad could it get…

CHAPTER 7

PARKER

Game Day.

There was nothing quite like it.

Nothing else could compare to the sheer, electric energy of it—the way the roar of the crowd could shake the ground beneath your feet and rattle the air in your lungs. Walking into that stadium, feeling the weight of one hundred thousand pairs of eyes fixed on you, was like stepping onto a stage where everything was magnified. Every move, every choice, every moment was played out in front of a sea of fans who lived for the highs and lows as much as you did.

There was no middle ground. You were either a god, lifted by chants that echoed your name as if you were untouchable, or a fool, shouldering the blame for everything that had gone wrong. The stakes were brutal and simple—win, and you’d be their hero; lose, and you’d taste the kind of hatred that cut deeper than anything else could.

I’d felt it before, both sides of the coin. The rush of being lifted, riding that wave of glory when everything fell into place and you were invincible, and also the bone-deep sting of screwing up. College football didn’t care about yesterday’s wins.It was what you did now, today, with the ball in your hands and a stadium holding its breath.

Stepping out onto that field was like a drug, though. The noise swallowed you, the pulse of the crowd synced with yours, and for a moment, it felt like you could do anything. And in that moment, with the stadium chanting, the sweat and adrenaline mixing in your veins, you either became a legend or just another name fading into the background.

I was ready to be a god today.

The locker room was filled with the usual pre-game tension, a mix of adrenaline and nerves thick enough to taste. Guys were moving through their routines, headphones in, heads bobbing to silent beats, some of them muttering last-minute mantras to themselves. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and that unique metallic tang of anticipation.

I sat on the bench, lacing up my cleats with deliberate precision, letting the repetitive motion calm the churn in my gut. Game day rituals were supposed to center you, block out everything else except the field and the playbook. But today, my mind wouldn’t cooperate.

My phone sat next to me, screen blank. No messages. My jaw clenched as I thought about my mom. It wasn’t surprising; last week’s visit had been rough. She’d barely acknowledged I was there, and then her fit over the shoes. Still, it was the first season she hadn’t managed to send me even a simple “Good luck.” The empty space that absence left gnawed at me.

“Hey, QB,” Jace said, throwing himself into the chair next to me and efficiently serving as a distraction. “I’ve got one for you.’

Matty groaned on the other side of me. “He’s doing his zone thing. Let him keep zoning.”

“What does that even mean?” Jace asked as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

“You know what it means. He’s getting in his groove. He’s doing his thing,” Chappie, one of my offensive lineman said, doing some weird dance that made his entire body jiggle.

“Do me a favor, Chap, my man. Please don’t ever do that again,” Jace drawled.

“I second that,” said Matty.

Chappie bent over, showcasing a large…and hairy butt crack, and everyone on my side groaned. “Ya like that, don’t you, Jacey? There’s more where that came from.”

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