Page 33 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
Chapter Fourteen
Theo
I can’t say I’m not a little thrilled Henley chose the diner for her team lunch today.
When she hopped in the Jeep and told me where we were meeting everyone, I couldn’t help but tease her. I think she wants to share it with other people, despite the awful circumstances that led her there.
I’m sitting at the end of the table, Henley on one side of me and her parents on the other. Henley’s teammates are spread around, either with their parents, significant others, or friends.
The team is buzzing with post-race adrenaline as they talk animatedly. There’s a girl at the other end of the table who looks like she’s going to be sick any minute. Henley’s parents are talking to all her teammates and telling them how great they ran today.
Tracey’s been taking care of everyone’s food and drink orders, happy to have some new faces in the place, I’m sure.
My phone’s blowing up with tagged photos. Apparently, Henley’s mom, who insisted I call her Kate, snapped a photo of our kiss and shared it with Lily—who immediately posted it on social media, along with pictures she insisted I pose for with my shirt.
Yes, the glorious shirt with Henley’s face on it.
I don’t even care that I look mildly insane in half of them. She’s laughing as she shows me her phone screen, scrolling through the photos, and that’s the only win I need.
But then, she starts to get notifications, one after the other. I can see the preview of them before she’s able to swipe them away.
@dakman: weird how some people move on so fast
@shorestud: hope your new man likes leftovers
Reading those comments makes my chest tighten.
I know what this is.
Dakota and his little group of assholes have clearly seen the photos, and something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s been in her comment section since the breakup. I remember her blocking his calls on our bookstore date and the time she mentioned he was on a rampage.
Pulling out my own phone, I read what else is being said, and I grip my phone tighter as more trolling comments trickle in. It’s bullshit, all of it.
Henley’s phone buzzes next to her, and I watch her brows pull together. “Theo,” she says quietly, angling the screen so I can see it.
And yeah, it’s worse now.
They’re not just trolling. They’re leaving comments insinuating she was the one who was cheating with me all along, trying to paint Dakota as the victim.
I shake my head. “No one with a brain would believe that.”
She swallows hard, eyes scanning the screen. “He’s been doing this for weeks—using fake numbers, leaving the occasional comment under fake accounts—but this is next level.”
I glance across the table. Her dad’s still chatting, oblivious. Her mom is asking Lily about a recipe she saw on the internet.Henley’s sitting beside me, trying not to look affected by the actual harassment she’s been enduring.
“I should say something to him,” I tell her under my breath.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s what he wants. A reaction. I’m not giving him that.”
I nod, jaw clenched. “Then I’ll stay quiet. For now.”
But my blood is boiling. I’m not used to standing still while someone tries to fuck with someone I care about.
We both do our best to blend into the conversations around us, but I can feel Henley’s leg bouncing nervously next to mine.
Reaching out, I apply gentle pressure to her knee to help settle her. I do my best to push away any residual frustration with the situation.
I laugh when her dad tells a story about the time Henley got gum stuck in her hair on race day in eighth grade and ran with a chunk missing from the side of her head.
