Page 69 of Play Fake
Logan pushes the door open with his shoulder, and we step into the hallway.
“So,” he says, slinging his towel around his neck. “Are you ever going to decide about the draft, or you just gonna keep pretending it’s not coming?”
I let out a slow breath. “You always this subtle?”
He smirks. “I try.”
“I’ve got time,” I say, even though I know how weak it sounds.
He gives me a look but lets it slide, taking a long drink from the water fountain. When he straightens, his grin sharpens in that way that always means trouble. “All right, fine. Let’s talk about something else. I heard a very interesting rumor.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Something about you and a certain blonde cheerleader.”
I groan. “Logan.”
He laughs, leaning against the wall. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. People like to talk, especially pretty ones. Word is you two are more than friends. Showing up to class together. Walking across campus like a couple. Sophie hanging around your truck after practice.” He raises his brows. “You gonna tell me there’snothinggoing on?”
“There’s nothing going on,” I say flatly.
“Uh-huh.”
I give him a look. “I’m serious. It’s just fake dating. She needed Zach off her back, and I offered to help. That’s it.”
His grin doesn’t fade. “Sure. Totally normal tofake datesomeone you walk across campus with every day.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing my bag from the bench. “You done?”
“For now,” he says, still grinning as we head toward the locker room. “But if this turns into a rom-com, I want royalties.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop the faint smile tugging at my mouth.
Logan bumps his shoulder lightly into mine. “For the record,” he says, tone a little less teasing now, “I don’t think Sophie’s the type to mess with your head. She seems like a sweet girl.”
I glance at him, surprised at the shift.
He shrugs, adjusting the strap of his bag. “I’m just saying—don’t keep the walls up so high that you miss something good. Not every girl’s like Angela, man. Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to get back out there, eventually.”
I tighten my grip on the strap. “You sound like Caroline.”
“Yeah, well, she’s usually right.” He shoots me a grin. “Think about it. Sophie’s smart, she’s easy to talk to, and you clearly trust her enough to fake date. That’s not nothing.”
I let the silence stretch as we walk up the steps toward the locker room. He doesn’t push further, just lets the words hang there like he always does when he knows I need time to chew on something.
But even after we take our seats and the first clips start rolling, his words stick.
23
SOPHIE
The rustle of papers and zipping backpacks fills the classroom as Professor Nelson dismisses us. My pen is still balanced between my fingers, spinning slowly, while I stare at the notes I barely absorbed. It’s Friday morning, which should feel like a relief, but instead, my brain is already three steps ahead—packing, flight times, making sure Ava feeds Snickers while I’m gone.
I slide my notebook into my bag and sling it over my shoulder just as Beck’s voice cuts through the low chatter. “Hey, Sophie.”
I glance up. He’s leaning casually against the desk next to mine, hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. His hair’s still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and he looks unfairly good compared to my post six a.m workout mess.
“You got time Sunday to meet up and start the project?” he asks. “Might be good to at least outline things before the week gets away from us.”
