Page 20 of The Backup

I recoil slightly, taking a bite of my hot dog, and answer after a moment. “Why are you asking me?”

“Uh, you’re his girlfriend?”

I catch the subtle shift around us—people leaning in, ears perking up. Gossip travels fast at Mystic Falls, and anything about Joe DeRollo is premium content.

“Well, the thing is,” I say carefully, “we’re not dating anymore.”

Brian pauses mid-bite, his hot dog frozen in front of his face. “Come again?”

He glances at Jacklyn for confirmation, but she just shrugs and makes a zipping motion across her lips. Best friends don’t spill the tea.

“Yeah,” I continue. “I finally caved. I’d been putting up with a lot from him. This summer we drifted, and when we got back to campus this year…I don’t know. Something was different. So I broke up with him.”

Brian still hasn’t taken a bite. “And when did this happen?”

I take a long pull from my beer. “Officially last night.”

Brian squints, shaking his head slowly. “Well, alrighty then. Seems like he’s not taking it too well. Judging by those interceptions today.”

I shrug. “I hate to sound cold, but honestly, this breakup has been a long time coming. The writing’s been on the wall for a while.”

A roar erupts from the crowd, pulling our attention back to the field as the team emerges from the tunnel in their purple home jerseys.

I scan the players for number thirteen, my gaze catching Asher. He’s in his tight football uniform, helmet on, and—much to my disappointment—no glasses in sight.

“Damn,” I mutter, nudging Jacklyn. “I was digging the glasses look.”

I pull out my phone, shooting him a quick text:

Sloane: What happened to the glasses? I was digging that look.

No response—he’s busy throwing warm-up passes on the sidelines. The clipboard’s gone, and he’s fully suited up, which makes me do a double take.

When Asher jogs out onto the field after the kickoff, my jaw drops.

“Holy crap,” Brian exclaims. “Is Asher Knox…the backup…coming in for Joe?”

The realization ripples through the crowd, followed by a deafening roar.

Cheers erupt after Asher completes his first pass, clean and precise.

“Asher Knox! Yeah!” Brian yells, standing up. “That’s what I’m talking about! Who even is this guy? Does anyone know him?”

Jacklyn smirks, biting her lip as she nudges me. “Don’t know much about him…” she says with a giggle, her tone far too knowing.

I glance around, suddenly feeling exposed.

Look, Asher is only the second guy I’ve ever hooked up with. And while it was a doozy—and he’s undeniably cool—I don’t want to be labeled as the girl who jumped from the starting quarterback to the backup.

I sink lower in my seat, pretending to focus on the game.

Asher completes another long pass, then another, before the team runs the ball in for their first touchdown of the game. The crowd erupts, the stadium shaking with energy.

Asher jogs off the field, pulling his helmet off as he reaches the sideline. His face, flushed and determined, turns up toward the stands.

Oh no. Don’t look at me.

He spreads his arms wide, making the universal “pump up” gesture, and the crowd responds, roaring louder than they have all game.

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