Page 63 of Play Fake
She blinks. “Both ways?”
“Yeah.” I glance at her, a small shrug rolling off my shoulder. “Keeps him away from you. And…keeps some of the girls awayfrom me.” Not that I need it. But if it makes this feel more like a fair trade to her, then fine.
She studies me, searching for the catch. “You’d actually be okay with that?”
I let out a slow breath. “Long as we’ve got rules. Hand holding’s fine. Hugging if it helps sell it. No kissing, no crossing lines. Maybe a kiss on the cheek. Just enough to shut him up. I honestly don’t plan on hooking up again until I’m pretty damn sure that person is my future wife.”
She nods slowly, considering. “So, we’re really going to do this?”
I hop down from the tailgate, then turn back to face her. For once, I let myself smile—the kind I know lands because her eyes soften instantly.
“So, whatcha say, pretty girl?” I ask, tipping my head just slightly. “Wanna play fake with me?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. Then her lips curve into a soft smile.
“Okay,” she says, her voice quieter than before. “We’ll play fake.”
I nod once. “Good.”
But before I can move on, she leans forward a little, eyes catching mine in the dim light. “I should warn you, though.”
My brow furrows. “Warn me?”
Her smile turns teasing, though there’s something softer underneath it. “I make a pretty great fake girlfriend, so don’t go falling for me, Harrison.” She wiggles her brows, playful enough to cover the way her cheeks flush.
For some reason, it makes my chest feel lighter. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Noted.”
She laughs, and I offer her my hand as she slides off the tailgate. She takes it without hesitation, light and warm against mine.
For a second, I don’t let go. Her fingers fit there too easily, too natural, and it takes an effort to clear my throat and ease my hand back.
“C’mon,” I say, shifting my keys in my palm. “I’ll walk you up.”
She falls into step beside me, her shoulder brushing mine once before she puts a little more space between us. Neither of us speaks, the quiet stretch between us different than before—lighter, but charged all the same.
By the time her dorm comes into view, I’m not sure if it’s relief or something else I feel when she slows at the front.
We stop at the bottom of the steps, the light above the entryway casting a soft glow across her face. She shifts her bag higher on her shoulder, looking at me like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says finally, her voice light but sincere.
I nod. “Anytime.”
For a beat, we just stand there. Then I shove my hands into my pockets and clear my throat. “Goodnight, Sophie.”
Her lips curve, the corners tugging into something that almost feels shy. “Goodnight, Beck. See you Monday.”
I give her a small grin, tipping my chin before turning back toward the lot.
What I told Logan still rings true.
A lot of girls are pretty.
But Sophie Prescott isn’t a lot of girls. She’s more. I know she was teasing earlier, but if I’m not careful, I could see myself falling for a girl like her.
21
SOPHIE
