Page 52 of Play Fake
I don’t say anything right away. Just file away the way she hugged me without thinking twice—and the way, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to let go.
Once we’re clear of the circle, I glance down at her. She’s still smiling, but it’s different now, warmer, and reaches her eyes.
“You want something to drink?” I ask.
Her shoulders relax, just a fraction. “Water would be great.”
“Got it.”
I thread my way through the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of water from the cooler, and hand one to her when I get back. Her fingers brush mine as she takes it, and the faintest spark shoots up my arm.
“Thanks,” she says softly.
I nod once, then tilt my head toward the back of the house. “Come on. It’s quieter this way.”
We slip through the crowd, out the sliding glass door onto the back deck. Out here, the music is muffled, replaced by the hum of voices and the night air, cooler and easier to breathe. String lights zigzag overhead, casting everything in a warm glow.
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath since she walked in. “Much better.”
I lean against the railing, uncapping my bottle. “Crowds not your thing?”
Her laugh is soft, almost sheepish. “Funny coming from you. You just had half the stadium chanting your name.”
I shrug. “Different kind of crowd.”
Her eyes linger on me a second longer than they should. Then she looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and I let the silence stretch comfortably.
For the first time tonight, it feels like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.
She takes a sip of water, her gaze sweeping over the yard below where people are laughing and tossing a football. Then her eyes flick back to me, a mix of gratitude and something else.
“Thanks for…saving me in there,” she says, her voice quiet.
I shake my head. “Didn’t seem like you needed saving. Just looked like I walked up at the right time.”
Her lips curve, small but genuine. “Right time, right place. Seems to keep happening with you.”
I don’t answer that. Just take a long drink of water, letting the silence settle.
But the thought’s already there, pressing at me. Tonight made it clear, if this keeps going, if she keeps leaning on me in front of people, then we can’t leave it undefined.
“You’re…” She starts, then shakes her head, smiling. “You’re hard to figure out, you know that?”
I let the corner of my mouth twitch. “Good. Keeps you guessing.”
Her laugh is soft, caught between disbelief and something warmer. For a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background.
She fiddles with her bottle cap, then glances at me again, her voice lighter now. “Well, for what it’s worth—you make a pretty convincing fake boyfriend.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, turning back to the yard. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She tilts her head, eyes catching the glow of the string lights strung across the railing. “Tell me something real. Something no one else knows.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “What is this, twenty questions?”
Her smile curves, but her voice is softer now. “Just one.”
I glance toward the yard, weighing it. I don’t usually hand out pieces of myself for free. But she’s standing there, waiting—not prying, not pushing. Just asking.
