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“Is that so?” Dad turned toward me, and behind the reflective lenses of his Ray-Bans, I felt his knife-like gaze on mine.
Coach shot me an accusatory look while sweat pricked the back of my neck. “He didn’t mention it to you?”
“Oh, he mentioned it,” my father clasped his hands casually around one knee while my mother glanced between us, her brow creased with worry, “and I thought we had an understanding, but I must’ve been mistaken.”
The scoreboard buzzed, echoing through the stadium and slicing through the tension. Grateful for the interruption, I exhaled as Coach nodded toward the team huddle. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, with a meaningful glance in my direction. “Looks like the game’s about to start.” Then he hurried off.
I cleared my throat, trying to find a graceful exit when my father said, “This conversation isn’t over.”
“I look forward to it,” I said like a smart-ass because his words needled under my skin. Then I turned on my heel and headed toward the huddle, my eyes on the stand the entire way as I searched the familiar faces for Julie. And though I knew it was stupid, I couldn’t help but feel like if she showed, it would give me the courage I needed to stand up to my father, and everything would be okay.
Chapter 19
PENELOPE
Istaredatmyreflectioninthemirror.Peptalksweren’tmyspecialty,soIwasn’tsurehowmuchIwashelpingmycause.EverytimeItriedtopsychmyselfup,allmydoubtscamerushingin.
One’s a king, always a king.
Scarlett’s words bothered me. Mostly because, deep down, I believed them.
Even if she was wrong, was I ready for this? Once Topher realized I was actually Julie, there was no going back. Game over. I’d lose any leverage I had as my chance to get even.
Besides, what was my end game? The truth was that no matter the things we had in common, Topher and I came from two different worlds. Nothing changed that.
The way I saw it, there were only a few ways this could go. He’d be indifferent. Not angry but not happy, either, to discover I was really Julie. He’d be thrilled I’d been impersonating someone else. Or, he’d feel betrayed and completely taken aback and never want to speak to either of us again.
The latter seemed the most likely scenario, given my general luck and history with boys.
I heard the rumble of an engine I recognized as my father’s car, and I glanced at the time on my phone.
Shoot! I was late. Super late.
I took one last calming breath and ran a hand through the length of my hair. The silky tank I wore clung to my curves in all the right places and complimented the dark denim. Red tank, dark denim, just like Julie said she’d wear. It was probably dumb on my part, but I hoped to clue him into the fact I was Julie without having to come right out and tell him.Cowardly, I know, but confrontation wasn’t my strong suit.
I grabbed a pair of cute wedge sandals and sunglasses on the way out of my room and headed outside, where I squinted into the sunshine. It was a beautiful day for a game, and I tried to contain my excitement as I made my way toward my father, whose gaze instinctively shifted to my hands, and I rolled my eyes.
Today’s shade was a bright lemon yellow—the color of happiness and energy. When I chose it this morning, I erred on the side of positivity—good vibes and all that—as opposed to going with my nerves and an unsavory nail color like green.
“Hey,” I greeted, hurrying toward my car.
Scarlett—bless her heart—had gotten it back for me this morning. A friend of her father’s owned a dealership and all but obliterated the skunk smell.
“I thought you were going to some school thing?” he asked.
“I am.” I opened my car door and slid inside, wishing I’d left sooner so I could avoid the twenty questions.
I rolled down my window to release some of the stifling heat, and at my father’s stare, I added, “I’m just running late, but I’m going now.”
“Everything okay?” Dad asked with narrowed eyes.
“Why does my being happy make you so suspicious? I think your parental radar got its wires crossed.”
He snorted as Sara clumsily climbed out from the backseat, and just the sight of her crushed me under a wave of guilt that I’d missed her game that morning.
“Since when do you care about high school sports?” Sara asked.
“Who said it was a sporting event?” My cheeks turned hot.
