Page 92 of Play Fake
But my eyes aren’t looking for the party. They’re looking for her.
I scan the room automatically, ignoring the claps on the back and quick “hell of a game, Harrison” from teammates. I don’t see her yet.
“About damn time,” Logan says, sidling up next to me with a red cup in hand. He’s got that look—the one that says he’s about to stir the pot for fun. “Thought you were gonna brood in your room all night like some football-playing Batman.”
“Funny,” I mutter.
He grins. “Seriously, though—great game today. That stop in the fourth? Beautiful.” He claps a hand against my shoulder, solid and proud. Then his grin turns sly. “And let me guess…you’re not down here for the drinks. Or the music. You’re scanning the room like a bloodhound for a certain blonde cheerleader, aren’t you?”
I give him a flat look, but he just laughs.
“Bro,” he says, leaning closer like we’re sharing state secrets. “It’s fine. You caught the feeling bug. Happens to the best of us. I, for one, am glad you finally admitted it to yourself.”
“I didn’t?—”
He cuts me off with a raised brow. “Your face says otherwise. Go get your girl.”
I should tell him he’s wrong. That she’s not my girl. That this whole thing started because of Zach and a lie in front of her parents. But my eyes are already wandering back to the crowd, searching.
And then I see her.
She’s just come through the front door, hair loose and a little curled at the ends, wearing dark jeans and a soft sweater that makes my throat tighten. She’s laughing at something one of her friends says, her eyes scanning the room like she’s looking for someone too.
My pulse kicks. I shift like I’m about to move toward her?—
And then a voice cuts through the noise.
“Yo, Logan!” one of the linebackers calls from across the room. “Couple of girls from CSU just showed up.”
Logan goes still. Likestatuestill. His jaw tightens, his entire energy shifting from playful to ice cold in a blink.
“Where?” he says flatly.
“Kitchen,” the guy says.
Logan doesn’t even glance at me. He sets his cup down on the banister with a dullthudand stalks off toward the kitchen, all business.
I watch him go for half a second, brow furrowing, but then my attention is called back to the gorgeous girl still standing next to the front door, sweater slips off one shoulder like it’s been waiting all night for the opportunity to mess with my head. She’s laughing at something Ava says, head tilted, eyes bright.
And before I even realize I’m doing it, my feet are moving in her direction.
31
BECK
“Hey,” she says softly, her blue eyes meeting mine as I reach her.
Before I can stop myself, I’m sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in. She fits against me perfectly, her body warm, her hair brushing my jaw. The feeling of her against me is something I’ve suddenly started to crave. She loops one arm around my waist in return, giving me a quick squeeze that lingers just a beat too long.
The noise of the party fades a little. It’s ridiculous—there’s music thumping, people laughing, a dozen conversations happening at once—but all I can focus on is the way her smile reaches her eyes when she leans back to look up at me.
“Hi,” I murmur back, and for some reason it comes out a little rougher than I meant.
She’s still tucked under my arm, and neither of us makes a move to step away. We just…stand there. Smiling. Staring. Like two idiots who forgot how words work.
Ava, standing on Sophie’s other side, watches this unfold with a grin that’s all mischief. “Okay,” she says, drawing theword out as she backs away. “I’ll just…let you two keep doing whateverthisis while I go get a drink.”
Sophie flushes, biting her lip to hide a laugh, and I can’t stop mine from spreading wider. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes bright, and my thumb twitches against her shoulder like it wants to memorize the moment.
