Page 114 of Play Fake
“Hey,” Coleson says, voice low and easy as Ava slides up to him. He’s in a black T-shirt and ripped jeans, no costume, but somehow it works for him. His grin softens when he looks at her, and I can practically see Ava melt a little.
I hang back a step, giving them space, scanning the crowded house as I lean against the wall. There’s a hum of energy under my skin, partly from the music, partly from the jersey, but mostly from the knowledge that Beck’s on his way.
“I’m gonna go find a bathroom before Beck gets here,” I tell Ava, leaning close so she can hear me over the music.
She nods distractedly, Coleson’s arm slung casually over her shoulders as he chats with a couple of teammates.
Coleson looks over when he hears me. “Try the one at the end of the hall upstairs,” he says. “It’s usually less crowded this early.”
“Thanks,” I say, slipping away before the line can grow any longer.
The upstairs hallway is quieter, the thump of the music muffled through the floorboards. A string of orange lights casts everything in a warm, dim glow. I duck into the bathroom, lock the door, and take a second to breathe. My pulse is quick from the crowd downstairs, from the way Beck’s texts have been sitting warm in my pocket all night.
I fix my ponytail in the mirror, smooth the jersey over my shorts, and give myself a quick once-over before unlocking the door.
When I step into the hallway, I nearly collide with someone leaning against the wall.
Zach.
For a split second, I think I can just slip past him. But he steps forward, cutting off my path.
“Sophie.” His voice is low, sharp. “You think you can disrespect me and just walk by me like that?”
My stomach drops. “I don’t want to do this, Zach.”
He gives a humorless laugh, closing the distance until my back hits the wall. The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, air thick with the smell of his cologne. “You think you can just move on? Pretend like you’re not mine?”
“I was never yours,” I manage, keeping my voice as even as I can.
His expression twists. “That’s not what you used to say.” His eyes flick down, ugly and possessive. “You always acted like your pussy was too good for me. And now you’re spreading your legsfor someone likeHarrison?” He spits the name like it’s dirt. “Pathetic. Then again, you always were.”
My throat tightens, heart slamming against my ribs. I angle my body, trying to push past him, but his arm shoots out, bracing against the wall beside me. He brings his body close to mine, using his weight to hold me there.
“Move,” I say, louder this time.
He smirks. “You can play innocent all you want, Sophie, but you and I both know how this goes.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Panic spikes, sharp and cold. I push at his arm, but he plants it against the wall beside my head, trapping me in.
“Move,” I say, louder.
He leans closer, his voice dropping into something darker. “You can pretend all you want, Soph. I know what you liked. I remember exactly what I used to?—”
“Stop,” I snap, panic and anger tangling in my throat. I shift my weight, ready to shove past him or yell for Ava if I have to. The hallway feels too narrow, too warm. My hands are shaking, but I set my jaw. I will not let him see me break.
Before I can act, a voice cuts through the hallway like a whip.
“Get the fuck away from her.”
Zach barely has time to turn before Beck’s on him. He grabs Zach by the collar and yanks him backward, slamming him against the opposite wall hard enough to make the pictures rattle.
Logan’s right behind him, face pissed, already stepping between me and Zach like a wall.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Logan snaps, his voice booming down the hall. “You think this is okay?”
Beck’s jaw is clenched tight, eyes cold. “You so much aslookat her again, and I’ll fucking end you,” he says, low enough to make it sound dangerous.
Zach stumbles, trying to straighten his shirt, but Beck doesn’t move. He’s not yelling, he doesn’t need to. His presence alone fills the hallway, and the tone of his voice sends shivers down even my spine, and I’m not the target of the wrath behind them.
