Page 107 of Play Fake
She laughs, waving her hand like I’m being ridiculous. “Soph. If he makes you happy, he’s welcome—no matter what he’s wearing. Honestly, I don’t care if he shows up in jeans. You’re my sister. If someone’s important to you, they’re important to me.”
My throat tightens just a little, unexpected warmth settling in my chest. “Claire…”
She shrugs, softer now. “I can tell this matters to you. He matters to you.”
I glance at my phone lighting up again—another flirty text from Beck—and try to tamp down the smile tugging at my mouth. “Maybe,” I say quietly.
“Maybe,” she mimics, grinning. “Okay, Miss Maybe. You’ve got three weeks to figure it out. But the seat’s his if he wants it.”
36
BECK
The team bus is shockingly quiet for a Friday morning, most of the guys sleeping or half-watching something on their phones. Logan’s slumped against the window next to me, hood pulled low, completely out.
My screen lights up.
Sophie: So remind me again why cheer doesn’t travel to away games?
because if you were here, I’d spend the entire game staring at you instead of the scoreboard.
Sophie: Smooth, Harrison.
I try.
Her reply bubble appears, disappears, then comes back again.
Sophie: You looked good at practice Tuesday… And I’m not talking about the actual football part.
My pulse jumps a little.
yeah?
Sophie: Mhm. All focused and sweaty. It’s a good look on you.
I shift in my seat, the corner of my mouth tugging up.
pretty sure the way you were looking at me wasn’t exactly innocent either.
Sophie: I don’t know what you mean.
uh-huh.
Another text comes through almost immediately after.
Sophie: Anyway… figured you deserved a sneak peek for tomorrow night.
A photo follows—her standing in front of the dorm mirror wearing my practice jersey, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. Her hair’s a little mussed, like she threw it on just for the picture, and she’s giving the camera that playful half-smile that’s starting to undo me.
My stomach does a low, tight flip. My grip on the phone tightens before I even realize it.
…
Sophie: Cat got your tongue?
you’re gonna kill me, Prescott.
Sophie: Just keeping you on your toes.
