Page 63 of The Backup

A loud knock echoes from the door.

We both freeze.

“Asher?” a voice calls from the other side.

My stomach plummets as I recognize it.

twenty

. . .

Sloane

“Asher?It’s Brian. Open up, man. I need to talk to you.”

We both freeze.

My heart plummets. Asher straightens, running a hand through his hair as he mutters under his breath. “Of course it’s Brian.”

He turns to me, his expression shifting from annoyed to amused as a mischievous glint lights up his eyes. “Looks like you’re about to get a front-row seat to the show. Closet. Now.”

“What?” I hiss, already backing toward the corner.

“You heard me.” He gently nudges me toward the door of his closet, his voice dipping into that teasing tone. “Unless you want Brian to find you here and start a whole new round of trivia aboutus.”

I glare at him but duck into the closet, the door closing softly behind me just as I hear the front door creak open.

Through the slats, I watch as Brian stumbles into the room. His shirt is untucked, his tie loosened, and there’s a distinct flush in his cheeks.

Asher leans casually against the wall, his arms crossed. “What’s up, man?”

Brian flops onto the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just needed to talk. About Jacklyn.”

Of course he does.

Asher exhales, his posture relaxing as if he’s already bored. “What about her?”

Brian hesitates, glancing up with a mix of hesitation and frustration. “You dated her, right? Back in freshman year?”

Asher shrugs. “Yeah. For, like, two months. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Brian’s lips press into a thin line. “Not a big deal? Come on, man. She’s…she’s amazing.”

“She is,” Asher agrees easily. “She’s also with you now. So why does it matter?”

Brian doesn’t answer immediately, his hands fidgeting on his lap. Finally, he blurts out, “Because you’re…you.”

Asher raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yeah, you!” Brian gestures vaguely, his voice rising. “You’re Asher fucking Knox. The golden boy. The quarterback. And, let’s be honest, the guy everyone knows is…you know,gifted.”

I bite down on my lip, trying not to gasp—or laugh.

Asher, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He tilts his head, his smirk deepening. “Gifted? That’s one way to put it.”

Brian groans, running a hand through his hair. “You know what I mean. It’s like you’re the guy everyone’s supposed to measure up to. And then there’s me. The guy who can barely keep Jacklyn’s attention when you’re in the room.”

Asher’s amusement fades slightly, replaced by something sharper. “Brian, Jacklyn’s with you because she wants to be. Stop comparing yourself to some short-lived thing that ended years ago.”

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