Page 18 of Game Face

He flashes a tight-lipped smile and holds up a finger, jogging to the edge of the track where his gym bag sits. He pulls out a towel and a white T-shirt that he slips over his head before jogging back toward me. I follow along as he makes his way to the gate between the track and the lot, near his truck.

He opens the front passenger door and tosses his bag inside, then props a foot on the running board while he leans against the side of the seat. He picks at a hangnail on his thumb, a nervous fidget it seems because he quickly stuffs his hands in his pockets after not getting anywhere with the random grooming. His gaze remains focused on the asphalt between us.

“I came here for you,” he says, words spilling out all at once, landing at my feet like a pile of hot vomit.

What the fuck!

“Bryce—”

“At first,” he cuts in, finally lifting his head to meet our eyes.

The churn in my stomach pauses, but the bubbling is still there.At firstmight make it better, but this still feels bad. On instinct, I scan the parking lot and nearby street for Wyatt.

“I know, I probably should have kept that to myself.”

“Youdefinitelyshould have kept that to yourself,” I pile on, hugging myself with my arms and nervous energy.

Bryce lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, I’m really bad at timing. I know. But I just have all this . . .stuff. . . on my chest.” He runs his fingertips around the center of his body in circles, his mouth twisted like he’s going to be sick.

“Did Bryce Hampton grow a conscience?”

He grimaces.

“Sorry, continue.” I clear my throat and grab the sides of my T-shirt tighter. I need to hold on to something.

“It wasn’t only about you. I wasn’t getting time on the field, and nothing was going right for me with football. I felt like I kept making bad decision after bad decision. And Wyatt had this great year, and then he got hurt. And I’ll admit, at first, I thought about the opportunity. Stepping in and filling his shoes. And yeah, you were here. And the idea of you seeing me at my best, maybe feeling . . .something. . . for me—I entertained that fantasy for a little bit.”

“Key word—fantasy.” I need to make sure he knows where the line is between us.

He nods and shoots me a quick, crooked smile as he holds a palm up.

“Okay, yeah. I got it, Peyton. No need to totally demolish my ego.”

My nerves settle, and I warm with a touch of guilt for making him feel bad. I don’t apologize, though.

“I’m not sure what Wyatt told you about camp workouts or the first week of practice, but Peyt . . . he’s good for me.” There’s a tiny quiver to Bryce’s bottom lip, almost like he’s scared. I think maybe he’s embarrassed to admit this. I won’t poke fun because I get just how big this is. But I’m blown away hearing it.

I take in a long breath and hold it in my lungs, my gaze flitting down before rising back up to meet Bryce’s.

“Wow, that’s . . . kind of you to say. Have you told Wyatt?”

“Ha! I mean . . . in little ways. Mostly when he looks like he wants to punch me. I try to let him know that I’m grateful to him. That I’m learning a lot.”

I nod, honestly flabbergasted at how different this Bryce is from the one I used to know.

“He’s not going to let you have the starting job. If you want it, you’ll have to take it.” This is the part I’ve been dreading since word of the transfer hit—the battle to be on the field. I have all the faith in the world that Wyatt is the best man for the job, and that he’ll keep his position. But there’s that lingering sting in the back of my mind that whispers, “What if?”

What if Bryce knocks him out of starting QB?

“I know I need to earn it. And I’m not going to just let him have it. I’m going to work my ass off and fight for it. But if it shakes out that I’m his number two, I just want you to know I’m good with it. Better than good. And maybe you can let him know, if that time comes.”

“Whenthat time comes,” I say, making sure Bryce gets where my loyalties lie on the field.

His mouth quirks up with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

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