Page 84 of The Backup

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “You’re going to kill it. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

His words make me smile, but they don’t completely chase away the anxiety twisting in my chest. “Tell that to my econ professor,” I say, a little bitterly. “He thinks I should be more ‘realistic.’ Like I’m not bright enough to actually make something of myself.”

Asher’s jaw tightens, and I can see the flicker of anger in his eyes. “That guy’s a moron.”

I laugh softly. “Maybe. But it still gets to me.”

“Don’t let it.” His voice is firm, steady, and when I meet his gaze, I see nothing but certainty. “You can do whatever you want, Sloane. And you don’t need some professor to tell you that. You already know it.”

His confidence in me makes my chest tighten in a way that’s both reassuring and terrifying.

“Where do you want to go for grad school?” he asks, his voice softer now.

I shrug, fiddling with the corner of my notebook. “Somewhere good. I’ve been thinking about New York. Or maybe abroad? I don’t know. Somewhere exciting.”

“New York,” he says, nodding like he’s weighing it in his mind. “You’d kill it in New York.”

I smile faintly, but my thoughts wander. “I’ve also been considering some schools in Texas. Maybe even Georgia or North Carolina? There are some really good programs down south.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Texas, huh? You’d love the food.”

I laugh softly. “And the weather. I’m tired of freezing half the year.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he says, his tone light, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

I glance at him, hesitating. “What about you? What are you thinking after graduation?”

He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head as he shrugs. “Probably stick with football as long as I can. See where it takes me.”

The unspoken truth settles between us like a weight. His path, my path—they’re heading in completely different directions.I can feel Asher's gaze on me. It’s a strange kind of quiet, the kind that makes my chest tight and my thoughts scattered.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “My brother Griffin and sister Cassie are coming through town tomorrow.”

“Oh?” I glance up, not expecting the change in topic, but grateful for the distraction. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah. Griff plays pro football and it’s his bye week,” Asher says, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that I envy. “So, he’s going to be here tomorrow. Can we go out to dinner?”

I sit up a little straighter. The idea of seeing Asher’s family—especially Griffin, who I’ve heard a lot about—has me intrigued. “Sure. Can we go somewhere...private?”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, we can go to that nice place in East Mystic Falls where no one ever goes. I’m sure Griff can get us a reservation.”

I let out a soft breath of relief, grateful for the quiet and exclusivity that the restaurant offers. “Sounds amazing.”

There’s a moment of quiet as Asher watches me with a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re really trying to stay out of the town gossip, aren’t you?”

I can’t help but chuckle. It’s one of the things I’ve had to contend with ever since I started dating Asher—everyone in Mystic Falls has an opinion, and they love sharing it. “Wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Nope,” he agrees, his voice light, but his gaze is still searching. “It’s a small town, Sloane. You can’t blame people for talking.”

I nod, but the tension that’s been simmering between us flares up again. Asher’s family coming into town is a welcome distraction, but it also raises a lot of questions—about his future, my future, and whether we’re ready to face them.

“Sounds like fun,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my mind can’t stop racing.

Asher watches me for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. He reaches across the table, his hand brushing mine lightly. “It’ll be nice,” he says softly. “You’ll like Griff. And Cassie…well, she’s Cassie. She’ll probably try to take over dinner plans.”

I laugh, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Good. Now,” he says, his tone turning serious again, “focus on the MCAT for the night. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

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