Page 106 of Play Fake
“Right,” I say, though my eyes flick down to my phone lighting up next to the laptop.
Beck: missed seeing you after practice today.
Beck: you hiding from me, Prescott?
I bite back a smile, quickly typing a reply.
Please. I could see you from the mats. You were too busy running in circles to notice.
A few seconds later:
Beck: is that what we’re calling it now, pretty girl? I’m offended.
“Soph. Earth to Sophie,” Claire says, waving a pen at the screen.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, straightening up. “Rehearsal dinner menu. Got it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. What’s got you grinning like that?”
“Nothing.”
“Mhm.” She leans closer to the camera, smirking. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certainfootball player, would it?”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’reblushing,” she counters, laughing. “Oh my God, youare. You’ve barely looked at me this whole call. Who’s texting you?”
My phone buzzes again.
Beck: guilty. I was looking at you during warmups. try to act surprised.
I press my lips together, but a smile still slips through. “No one,” I lie, terribly.
Claire bursts out laughing. “Oh, this isso good. Sophie Rae, I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time. Spill. How’s it going with the football player?”
I pick at the corner of my notebook, trying to play it cool. “It’s…good.”
“Good,” she echoes with a grin. “I’ll take that. And judging by your face, it’s actuallyreallygood.”
I shake my head, but my cheeks are warm, and my phone keeps lighting up, Beck firing back with flirty replies that make it hard to focus on centerpiece placements and salad options.
Claire watches me for a moment, her smile softening. “I like this version of you,” she says quietly. “Happy looks good on you, Soph.”
I duck my head, smiling into the glow of the screen. “Yeah,” I murmur. “It feels pretty good too.”
Claire’s still smiling at me like she knows exactly what’s going on, but then she straightens and taps the edge of her penagainst her notebook. “Okay. While you’re floating off in football land, I actually planned for this emergency.”
I blink. “What emergency?”
She grins, smug. “Theboy emergency, obviously. I sent you an updated seating chart earlier—check your email.”
I flip to the browser tab and open my inbox. Sure enough, there’s a new PDF titledFinal Reception Layout – Updated. I click it, and my stomach does a little flip when I spot it: my name, front and center at one of the long tables…withBecklisted on one side of me andAvaon the other.
“Claire,” I say slowly, looking back at the screen. “What is this?”
She leans back in her chair, all too pleased with herself. “I figured you’d cave and bring him eventually. Might as well be prepared.”
“I haven’t asked him,” I blurt out. “I don’t even know if he’d want to come. Or if he has a suit. Or—Claire.”
