Page 129 of Play Fake
I love my sister, but if she sends me one more text about table runners, I might actually scream.
Add in my mom basically writing off everything I told her about Halloween, claiming I’m simply “over exaggerating” and that is was simply a “miscommunication” and you could say my day isn’t really going super well.
By the time Beck and I slide into a booth at the little gluten-free café I found off campus, my brain is already halfway to a meltdown. He’s still in a T-shirt and joggers from morning weights, hair damp from a quick shower, looking annoyingly calm while I juggle a dozen mini crises in my head.
He slides a plate of fries toward me. “You look like you’re about to either cry or commit arson.”
I shoot him a flat look. “Both are on the table.”
He chuckles, leaning back with that easy grin that always manages to cut through the noise in my head. “Eat something first. Then burn things.”
I’m about to steal a fry when my phone buzzes again. I sigh. “If that’s another panic text about the cake?—”
It’s Claire. Calling this time. I answer automatically. “Hey, what’s wrong now? Did the baker cancel?”
“Um, not exactly,” she says. Her voice sounds tight, a little breathless. “Are you alone?”
I glance at Beck. “No, I’m with Beck. Why? What happened?”
She exhales shakily. “Mom refused to uninvite the Pierces from Thanksgiving.”
For a second, I think I misheard her. “Wait—what?”
“And…” Claire hesitates, voice dropping, “she wouldn’t let me take them off the wedding guest list either.”
The words hit like a cold wave.
The Pierces. Zach’s parents.
I grip the phone tighter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I tried, Sophie. I really did. I told her how you felt, what happened, that it wasn’t right to have them there. But Mom kept saying it would ‘cause unnecessary drama’ to change the guest list this late. She said we just need to ‘be civil.’”
My stomach twists. Civil. As if what Zach did upstairs at that party was just some uncomfortable misunderstanding instead of a reminder of every reason I don’t want him anywhere near me.
Beck’s watching me carefully now, the playful look gone, replaced with quiet concern.
“Okay,” I say finally, my voice clipped. “I’ll…figure it out.”
Claire sighs. “I’m sorry, Soph. I’ll do whatever I can to keep them out of your way, but?—”
“I know,” I interrupt softly. “It’s not your fault.”
She hesitates again. “You still okay for the rehearsal dinner Friday night?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’ll be there.”
We hang up, and I set my phone down a little too hard on the table.
Beck reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “What happened?”
“My parents,” I say, staring down at the salt shaker so I don’t have to look him in the eye. “They’re still inviting Zach’s family to Thanksgiving. And apparently, my mom also refused to let Claire take them off the wedding guest list.”
His jaw tightens immediately. “What?”
“Yeah.” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Because apparently being ‘civil’ is more important than me not wanting to be around the family of the guy who cornered me at a party.”
The silence between us stretches. He doesn’t try to feed me empty reassurances. He just holds my hand a little tighter, thumb brushing against my skin like he’s grounding me there.
