Page 54 of The Backup

Asher

The clangof weights echoes through the gym as I rack the barbell with a grunt, my chest on fire from the last set. It’s a good burn—the kind that’s supposed to keep me focused. But today, no matter how hard I push, my mind keeps slipping back to her.

She walked out this morning wearing my hoodie, her smile half-nervous, half-something else I couldn’t quite place. It’s burned into my memory now, the way she looked in my clothes, like she belonged in them.

“Yo, Knox!” Ryan’s voice snaps me out of it. He’s leaning against the bench next to me, shaking his head like he caught me daydreaming. “What’s up, man? You good?”

I take a swig of water and shrug. “Yeah, just focused. Trying to get my head right for next week.”

Ryan snorts. “Focused, huh? You were definitelyfocusedon something last night. Or should I say,someone?”

I roll my eyes, but my smirk gives me away. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, grabbing a dumbbell and starting a lazy curl. “You’re different today. You’ve got that ‘just got laid’ swagger. Spill.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Let’s just say it was a good night and leave it at that.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully he lets it drop. He’s never been one to press too hard, but I can tell he’s storing this info away for later.

I grab the dumbbells for my next set, the strain in my arms grounding me, but it’s not enough to shake the nagging thought in the back of my head. I can still hear Coach’s voice in the locker room after the game last week.

“You’re playing like a backup, Knox. And if that’s what you want to be, that’s fine. But if not, you’d better start showing me something different.”

I grind my teeth, pushing through the reps harder than I probably should. I’m not a backup, damn it. I don’t care if last week’s loss was brutal—I’m not losing my spot. Not now.

Ryan sets down his weights and sits on the bench next to me. “You worried about Coach?”

“Why would I be?” I lie, keeping my voice steady.

“Because he’s pissed,” Ryan says, blunt as ever. “And if we lose again next week, you know he’ll start looking at bringing Joe back.”

Joe. The man who’s been waiting for me to screw up since I took over for us when he was hungover as hell. The thought makes my stomach churn, but I shrug like it doesn’t bother me.

“Let him look,” I say, setting the dumbbells down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll prove I’m still the guy. I always do.”

Ryan gives me a look but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he claps me on the shoulder and heads toward the leg press.

I lean back on the bench, closing my eyes for a second. The weight of the team, Coach’s expectations, Joe breathing down my neck—it’s all there, threatening to crush me.

But then, like a flicker of light in the chaos, I think about Sloane again. Her laugh. The way she said my name. The way she looked at me, like I wasn’t just the quarterback but something…more.

I take a deep breath, grab the weights, and get back to it. No distractions. No excuses. Just the work.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about me too.

And I still can’t believe all she wants is to be my dirty little secret.

Okay, myexclusivedirty little secret.

It’s a little messed up.

But who am I to judge?

The frat house smells like stale beer and regret, as usual. It’s barely sundown, but the common room is already packed with guys lounging on the couches, nursing hangovers from last night. A couple of them are flipping through channels on the giant TV, while others are picking through the remnants of a pizza someone left on the coffee table.

I step inside, and a round of jeers greets me almost immediately.

“Knox! The man, the myth, the legend,” Joe calls from the armchair he’s practically claimed as his throne. “How was your morning, champ? Recovering from your little…extracurriculars?”

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