Page 133 of Play Fake
The drive is short, the radio hums low between us, playing some classic rock song Beck’s singing under his breath. The late morning sun filters through the windshield, catching in his hair and making him look unfairly good for someone who showed up at my dorm thirty minutes ago and derailed my plans for a quiet, yogurt-fueled day of hiding.
I fiddle with the hem of my sweater, watching the houses roll by. The closer we get, the more cars I see lining the street—families piling out with casseroles and foil-covered dishes.
“You okay over there?” Beck asks, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, then soften. “Just a little nervous.”
He reaches across the console and laces his fingers through mine without taking his eyes off the road. The warmth of his hand spreads through me like a slow exhale.
“They’re going to love you,” he says simply, like it’s a fact.
I look at him, and for a second, something flickers across his face. It’s quick, almost gone before I can name it—something warm and a little vulnerable. Like this moment matters to him more than he’s letting on.
Before I can ask about it, he’s turning into his dad’s driveway. The house is buzzing—cars packed in tight, voices spilling out through the open door, laughter carrying down the street. My stomach flips.
He parks and hops out, jogging around the front to open my door like he always does.
I shake my head, grinning. “You know I can open my own door, right?”
“I know,” he says, that familiar lopsided smile spreading across his face. “But I like doing it.”
I take his hand as I slide out of the truck, the cool air nipping at my cheeks. He doesn’t let go.
Before I can say anything, he leans in and kisses me. It’s soft, warm, lingering just enough to settle my nerves a little.
“You’re more than enough, exactly the way you are,” he murmurs against my lips, like a promise.
My chest tightens in the best way.
And then he pauses—just a beat. That same emotion flashes across his face again, stronger this time. Somethingreal.
He doesn’t explain it. Just cups the side of my face, kisses me again—deeper this time, enough to make my breath hitch—then threads his fingers through mine as we start up the walkway together.
The second Beck opens the front door, warmth spills out like a wave—heat from the oven, laughter echoing from the kitchen, and the low hum of football playing on a TV somewhere deeper inside.
But before I can even get my bearings, there’s a sudden pounding of small footsteps.
“Sophie!”
Alyssa’s little voice cuts through the chatter like a bell, and she’s barreling toward me in a blur of pigtails and sparkly tights.Joey’s right behind her, taller but just as excited, grinning from ear to ear.
“You came!” Alyssa squeals, launching herself at my legs like a tiny, glitter-covered cannonball.
I laugh, bending down to catch her as Joey crashes into my side for a hug too. “Whoa—you guys are fast,” I manage between giggles.
Joey looks up at me, eyes wide. “Dad said Beck was bringing someone, but I didn’t think it was actually you!”
Beck groans good-naturedly behind me. “Gee, thanks, man. Way to make it sound like I imagined her.”
Joey just grins wider, and Alyssa tugs insistently at my hand. “Come see the cookies we made! I helped with the frosting!”
I glance up at Beck, who’s watching the whole scene with this soft, almost disbelieving smile. He gives me a little nod, likego on.
Alyssa leads me toward the kitchen, Joey bouncing along beside us. And suddenly, the nerves that had been sitting tight in my chest start to ease. This isn’t some intimidating family event I have to survive while trying to look prim and proper, making sure I am saying all the right things. It feels like…stepping into something warm.
Caroline stands at the counter in a cozy sweater, laughing with Beck’s dad over some inside joke as she pulls a tray of something golden and delicious from the oven. The smell of turkey and cinnamon fills the air.
From there, it’s a whirlwind of introductions.
