Page 11 of Faking the Face Off

Anna sighs and looks at me. You know those looks when you can tell there’s a lot in the unsaid? This is one of those.

“Ollie,” she begins, thrusting her hands in her pockets. “Please, keep this between us for now?”

I don’t get a chance to nod before Sutton’s voice carries across the room, sharp and commanding as always.

“There you are! Perfect timing.” She strides up to us, her heels clicking against the tile floor. She points at me, but her focus shifts to Anna almost immediately. “Ollie Decker, you’re wanted in that locker room before Ben decides to hunt you down himself. Move it.”

Her attention turns fully to Anna now, her expression softening as she loops an arm through Anna’s. “And you, my dear, are coming with me. I need a consultation for the mayor’s ball.”

Anna narrows her eyes as if she’s thinking. “The mayor’s ball?”

“Yes, the charity gala next month. The Renegades are invited again and I want to get the word out to the guys and their plus-ones. We’re going to arrange a team tux fitting and help them out, too, since the guys are juggling a hectic schedule this time of year,” Sutton replies with a dramatic wave of her hand. “Ben told me I could borrow you for a bite to eat while we finalize a few details. Please?”

Anna grins, standing a little taller. “If Ben’s good with it, I guess I’m all yours.”

“Excellent,” Sutton says, already steering her toward the exit. “I’m already feeling better about the whole process.”

Anna shoots me a quick look over her shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips. “Talk to you later, Ollie.”

“Yeah,” I say, watching them go. “See you.”

I stand there a beat longer, watching them disappear around the corner. It’s not like running into her here was a fluke—I knew she’d be here. Part of me might’ve hoped for it.

Still, I can’t ignore the way my chest tightens at that smile. Or how I can’t seem to stop watching the spot where she stood a moment ago.

I shove the thought aside, heading toward the locker room. It’s too early to read into anything. Too early to think that seeing Anna here is affecting me as much as it clearly is.

But as I push open the door, I realize I’m still smiling—and that’s harder to ignore.

CHAPTER 5

ANNA

The menu for the Beavertail Diner in front of me blurs as I stare at it, my fingers tracing the edge of the page. This should be an easy decision, I shouldn’t feel like I’m a fledgling law student about to sit the bar exam for the first time. I mean the choice is between a Sourdough BLT with avocado or do I want a chicken Caesar salad? My stomach twists, but not from hunger. The words on both pages swim together, mocking me with their simplicity.

The server appears at our table, sliding two cups of coffee in front of us. The sharp, rich scent wafts up, but it does nothing to settle the tightness in my chest. Sutton glances up with a practiced smile and rattles off her order without hesitation, like the menu has never once betrayed her.

“Take your time,” the server says, turning to me with her pen tapping on her pad, a clear sign of her patience, no?

I grip the menu a little tighter, my knuckles brushing the table as if anchoring myself there will help. My heart beats out a frantic rhythm, and the words on the page look like hieroglyphics. Since when did placing an order become so stressful?

“Nothing for me today,” I hear myself say, the sound of my voice more hollow than I expected. I hand back the menu, not daring to look at Sutton. “I’m not that hungry.”

Sutton’s eyebrow arches slightly over the rim of her coffee cup, but she doesn’t say anything.

The server walks away, and I reach for my coffee, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. It feels steady, solid, even if I don’t.

My gaze drifts to the table, but my thoughts race elsewhere. I picture my dad answering his phone, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Home, work, errands—it doesn’t matter where he is. They always find him. His phone lights up relentlessly, the screen flashing names he doesn’t recognize but already dreads. There’s no escaping it, no pause, no peace.

The bitterness of the coffee matches the taste in my mouth, but I swallow it down anyway. Across the table, Sutton is scrolling through her phone, oblivious to the storm swirling in my head.

I lift the mug again, letting its heat seep into my hands, grounding me as I try to find a steady breath.

“So,” Sutton says as she puts her phone down and faces me, no clue of the raging fire of voices happening inside my head. “Thanks for helping me today.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing about the gala,” I lie through my teeth.

“It’s not so much the gala I need help with, that was my cover story,” she says, her Southern accent is syrupy sweet. “I want to talk to you about the other night, when you stopped by Jimmy’s office. You’ve always been observant in a way not many people are. Your point of view was needed, and it’s probably because of your role. You have good ideas.”

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