Page 90 of Play Fake
His grin spreads slow, like he’s savoring the moment. “You totally were.”
I grab a Skittle and throw it at him. It bounces off his hoodie and lands in his lap.
He pops it into his mouth without missing a beat. “Thanks.”
I shake my head, heat creeping up my neck, but he looks way too pleased with himself.
After another half hour, the outlines are finished, my notes are a mess of highlights, and the Skittles bag is nearly empty.
Beck stretches in his chair, arms over his head, hoodie riding up just enough to make my brain short-circuit for a second before I snap my eyes back to my laptop.
He lets out a quiet sigh. “I hate to say this,” he says, dropping his arms, “but we should probably get going if we don’t want to be late to practice.”
My shoulders slump dramatically. “You mean we can’t just live here forever?”
He grins, shoving his notebook into his backpack. “Tempting. But Coach would actually end me.”
“Fair,” I say, closing my laptop.
We pack up and head outside, the late-afternoon sun dipping lower in the sky, streaking the quad in pink and orange. It’s quieter than usual between us—but not awkward. Just…warm. Familiar.
Halfway down the path, our hands brush. Once. Twice.
And then he just takes mine. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Fingers sliding through, palms fitting together, no hesitation.
My heart gives an unhelpful little lurch.
We walk like that toward the stadium, side by side, talking about nothing in particular—practice drills, the ridiculous amount of reading due next week, how he still refuses to try the pumpkin spice cold brew everyone’s been obsessing over.
When the stadium comes into view, I spot Ava up ahead with a couple of the other girls. She sees us first, and her eyes go wide before she breaks into a slow,knowinggrin.
“Oh my God,” she mouths, barely holding back a squeal.
The other girls follow her gaze, and suddenly there’s a whole chorus of looks and whispers being exchanged.
I can feel my face heating, but Beck doesn’t flinch. He just gives my hand a light squeeze, like he’s steadying me, before letting go as we near the locker rooms and cheer tunnel.
“See you after,” he says, casual but soft.
“See you,” I reply, trying to ignore Ava’sveryobvious eyebrow wiggle.
As he jogs off toward the locker room, I can’t help it—I smile. Big. Stupid. Uncontrollable.
30
BECK
It’s game day. The stadium is louder than normal today, everyone hungrier for a win after taking the loss last weekend.
Trying to keep my mind focused on the game ahead and not thinking about the time I’ve spent with Sophie over the last few days, proves to be more difficult than I thought. New images pop up whenever I see her, forcing my pulse to kick up a bit. Or when she bites her lip in concentration sending my mind right off the rails.
Something is happening. I just don’t quite know what yet.
I roll my shoulders beneath my pads, helmet secured, and my mind focused as I bounce up and down on the sideline with my team, ready to get this show on the road.
The crowd roars as the announcers’ voices blare through the speakers, but over the noise, I hear her.
Sophie.
