Page 19 of The Backup

We nod quietly, almost in unison.

“I said, is everyone giving maximum effort? Because it sure as hell doesn’tlooklike it!”

A few linemen exchange glances before one pipes up, shaking his head. “I’m gassed, Coach. Feels like we were on the field the whole time. We barely had the ball.”

I expect Coach to rip him apart, but instead, he nods. “Our ball control has been shit today. You know what?”

I keep my head down, running a hand over my face, pretending to review my notes. But then I feel it—his gaze.

“Knox,” he says, his tone sharp. “You’re getting the ball in the second half.”

I blink, pointing at myself. “Me?”

“Yes, you, motherfucker. Did I stutter? Joseph smells like booze, and he’s throwing like shit today.”

Joe’s jaw drops, and his face flushes. “Coach, I’ll get ‘em in the second half. We’re a second-half team. You know that.”

Coach shakes his head. “You’re not reading the defense. So fuck that. I’m giving the ball to Knox.”

He tosses me the football, and I catch it, feeling its weight—and the weight of the entire team’s stares. Especially Joe’s.

“Don’t make a fool out of me, Asher,” Coach says, clapping his hands sharply. “Let’s go.”

The defense jogs back toward the field, but I’m frozen, my heart hammering in my chest.

I don’t even have my contact lenses in.

At my locker, I fumble for them, feeling Joe’s presence like a storm cloud behind me.

“Don’t fuck this up, Knox,” Joe growls. “You’re the backup. Remember that.”

I spin around, shrugging. “Hey man, I’m just doing what Coach wants.”

He glares, shaking his head before stomping out toward the field.

As I slide my lenses into place, Coach claps me on the shoulder. “Told you to be ready, Asher. Now go get ‘em.”

“Yes, sir,” I manage, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the tunnel, my cleats clacking against the concrete.

I’m nervous as hell, my stomach twisting into knots.

And all I really want to do is text a girl in the stands.

But now? Now it’s time for my game face.

five

. . .

Sloane

“Jeez.Down twenty-one today. We’re looking like the Bears,” Brian jokes as he hands out hot dogs.

He passes one to Jacklyn, then to me, along with a beer for each of us.

“Seems like Joe is playing like shit today. Why do you think that is?”

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