Page 37 of Play Fake
His voice cuts through the quiet between us. “What about Sunday evening?”
My head jerks up. “What?”
“For studying,” he clarifies, calm as ever. “We have the away game Saturday, but we’ll be back late that night. I have plans Sunday afternoon, but I can make sure to get back to campus early enough to get an hour or two in.”
Sunday. I run through my mental calendar—a mountain of reading for social work, cheer prep for the week, laundry…. Not exactly empty. But the way he says it, like he’s just offering a solution that helps the both of us, makes it hard to think of reasons to say no.
“Sunday should work,” I say softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
He nods once, satisfied. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
Just like that, he turns back to his notebook, completely unbothered, like he hasn’t just upended the rhythm of my week.
Meanwhile, my pulse is still hammering.
I duck my head again, scribbling down the date before I can talk myself out of it.
13
BECK
By the time I pull into the driveway, my body still feels like lead from the game and the long bus ride back. But the second I step out of the truck, Alyssa’s squeal cuts through the quiet, and she comes barreling down the steps, blonde braid flying.
“Beck!”
I scoop her up before she can trip over her sandals, spinning her once until she giggles so hard she hiccups. Joey follows at a slower pace, carrying a plastic dinosaur in each hand. He grins when I crouch down to his level, ruffling his hair before letting Alyssa slide down.
“You bring the T-Rex this time?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he says proudly, holding it up. “And the raptor. They’re gonna fight.”
“Of course they are.” I nod solemnly. “Classic matchup.”
Inside, the house smells like roast chicken and garlic, the kind of Sunday comfort that always makes me pause at the door. Caroline waves from the kitchen, apron already dusted with flour.
Dad comes out of the den as I’m dropping my bag by the stairs. He claps my shoulder, firm as ever. “Good game yesterday, son. That sack in the fourth was something else.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“NFL teams like seeing that.” His tone is matter-of-fact, already turning toward the back door. “Gotta go turn off the water out back really quick. Just refilled the kids’ pool and don’t need it all over the place again.”
Just like that, he’s gone, screen door creaking shut behind him.
I stand there a moment, the weight of his words heavier than his hand on my shoulder.
“Beck?” Caroline’s voice pulls me back. She’s balancing a bowl in one hand, a wooden spoon in the other. “You want to give me a hand in here?”
“Yeah,” I say, grateful for the excuse.
The kitchen is warm, sunlight spilling across the counters. I grab plates from the cabinet without needing to ask where they go, setting them neatly on the island.
“You’re good with them,” Caroline says after a moment, nodding toward the living room where Alyssa is already trying to braid Joey’s hair. “Alyssa and Joey—they light up the second you walk in the door.”
“They’re easy to love,” I say honestly, stacking the plates tighter.
Her smile softens. “So are you, you know.”
I shake my head, but she doesn’t let it slide.
