Chapter 14 Sophie
SOPHIE
The last thing I expect after a five-mile run and a rushed shower on a Monday morning is to see my parents waiting for me in the middle of the quad.
But there they are.
Bill and Trisha Prescott.
My mom is polished within an inch of her life in a blazer and pearls that scream board meeting, not campus visit. And my dad, arms crossed, has his jaw set like he’s about to interrogate a suspect instead of his daughter.
I stop dead in my tracks, gym bag sliding off my shoulder. “What—what are you doing here?”
“We needed to talk,” Mom says smoothly, already stepping closer. “And since you’ve been so hard to pin down, we thought we’d surprise you.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. Claire warned me this would happen, and I know that tone. I know what’s coming before my dad even opens his mouth.
“It’s about Zach.”
The name hits like a punch.
I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not having this or any conversation about him.”
“Sophie—”
“He cheated on me,” I snap, louder than I mean to.
A couple of students glance our way, curious.
My face burns. “Publicly. Multiple times. I refuse to let anyone disrespect me that way and won’t be marrying someone just because of how you think his last name looks next to mine on paper. End of story.”
Mom’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes are sharp. “End of story for you, maybe. But you can’t just walk away from what his family brings to the table. Do you know how many people would kill for those connections?”
My chest squeezes tight, heartbeat pounding in my ears. I want to scream, to run, but the words tumble out before I can stop them.
“I don’t care about his family. I don’t care about appearances. I’m not going back.”
“Then what?” Dad demands, his voice low but cutting. “You’re just going to throw everything away? Be alone?”
And that’s when I panic.
“I’m not alone,” I blurt, pulse racing. “I’m…I’m seeing someone.”
The silence between us is sharp enough to cut glass. My mom tilts her head, lips curling. “Please. I know a lie when I see one, especially coming from you.”
My throat goes dry. My mind blanks—until I see him.
Beck. Crossing the quad like he owns it, backpack slung over one shoulder, sure as always.
And in that instant, the lie forms so easily it almost feels true.
“Actually, there he is.” I say, nodding my head in his direction. “We have class together, and he plays for the football team.”
Mom’s eyes sharpen as she follows my gaze. “That’s your boyfriend?”
“Yes.” The word leaves my mouth before I can think twice. “That’s Beck. My boyfriend.”
Her brows lift, unimpressed. “Funny, I haven’t heard a word about him. If it’s serious, shouldn’t you have told us sooner?”
My pulse is thrumming so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t echo across the quad. “It’s…new,” I say quickly. “Plus, you two are really set on me being with someone else, so I don’t really know why I would mention it.”
Mom rolls her eyes, but Dad’s arms fold tighter across his chest. “Let’s meet him then.”
Students are passing by, the fountain splashing in the background, and there’s no escape route in sight. Beck is only a few strides away now, heading straight toward the psych building, oblivious to the fact that I’m about to throw a major plot twist into his morning.
I force a smile I don’t feel. “Of course.”
Before my parents can say anything else, I step away, jogging a few paces toward him. He glances up at the sound, brows pulling together slightly when he sees me heading right for him.
I plaster on a bright expression, stand on my toes, and press a quick kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm, faint stubble brushing against my lips.
Leaning close, I whisper, fast and panicked, “I’m so sorry. I’ll owe you whatever you want if you can play fake with me for a minute.”
When I pull back, my stomach is in knots, waiting to see if he’ll even go along with it.
For half a heartbeat, Beck freezes.
His eyes widen, shock flickering across his face, and my stomach drops straight through the floor. What if he says no? What if he calls me out right here in front of my parents?
But then, like it clicks, his expression shifts. The confusion smooths away, replaced with that calming look he always wears, the one that makes it feel like nothing can shake him. The same one that seems to ground me for reasons I can’t quite explain.
He glances past me, toward where my mom and dad are waiting, then back down at me. His jaw tightens once, and then he gives a small nod.
My chest floods with relief so strong I almost sag against him.
“Everything okay?” he asks, voice even, pitched just loud enough for my parents to hear.
I force a bright smile, though inside I’m still unraveling. “Perfect. Come on, Beck—my parents want to meet you.”
When I loop my arm through his, it feels surreal, like I’ve stepped into a play and forgotten all my lines. His arm is solid beneath my hand, even as my pulse races out of control.
I steal one quick glance up at him as we walk back together. His expression is unreadable, but his presence—confident, unhurried, unbothered—makes me believe, for just a second, that maybe I can pull this off.
We cross the quad together, and I can feel my parents’ eyes on us, sharp and assessing. My grip on Beck’s arm tightens, partly to sell the illusion…partly because if I let go, I might actually collapse.
“Mom, Dad,” I say as casually as I can manage, even though my voice is higher than usual. “This is Beck. Beck Harrison.”
Mom’s smile is thin, practiced. “So, this is the boyfriend.”
Beck doesn’t miss a beat. He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder, extending his free hand to her first. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Prescott.” His tone is calm, even respectful, the kind that would disarm almost anyone.
Her brow lifts, clearly surprised at the courtesy, but she takes his hand. “Nice to meet you as well. Please, call me Trisha.”
Dad steps forward, his handshake firmer, testing. “Bill Prescott. Sophie’s father.”
Beck meets his grip without flinching. “Sir.”
The silence that follows stretches, my nerves screaming at the edges. Then Beck glances down at me, just for a second, before looking back at them. “Sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet sooner. Things have been…busy.”
The words are simple, but they land with a weight I didn’t expect. Like he actually means them.
Mom tilts her head, still scrutinizing him. “And how long have you two been…involved?”
My throat goes dry, but Beck answers before I can choke on the lie. “Not long,” he says easily. “But sometimes the best things don’t need years to prove themselves.”
Heat rushes up my neck. He says it so smoothly, so calmly, and he has no idea what it does to me.
My mom studies him, clearly looking for cracks, but Beck just stands there—polite and impossible to rattle.
And just like the first night he stood beside me at the party, I don’t feel like I’m standing alone.
Mom’s eyes narrow, her smile just a little too tight. “And what is it you do, Beck? Besides…football, I mean.”
Her tone makes football sound like a hobby, not the grueling commitment it actually is.
Beck doesn’t so much as blink. “I’m a senior. Psychology major. Still deciding between grad school and the draft.”
Dad lets out a low grunt, like he’s testing the words for cracks. “NFL, huh?”
“Possibly,” Beck says. Calm. Even. No bragging, no flinching. “But I’ve always been more interested in working with people than chasing numbers. Counseling, maybe teaching. We’ll see.”
The look Mom gives me is sharp, like she’s trying to gauge whether I had any idea about this. I fight to keep my face neutral, even as something inside me twists.
Because it’s the first time I’ve heard him talk about his future like that. And he says it like it’s no big deal, when it feels like everything.
“Well,” Mom says finally, smoothing her blazer. “I suppose we’ll have to trust your judgment.”
Her words don’t fool me. She doesn’t trust me at all.
Dad checks his watch, already moving the conversation along. “We’ll talk more at Claire’s rehearsal dinner.”
Panic spikes in my chest at the thought of dragging Beck into that disaster, but I force a bright smile before he can reply.
“Actually,” I cut in, gripping Beck’s arm tighter, “we really have to get going. Class doesn’t wait, and Professor Nelson locks the door if you’re late.”
It’s a stretch, but they don’t know that.
Mom’s lips press together like she wants to argue, but she nods once. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Of course,” I say quickly, already steering Beck toward the psych building before either of them can ask another question.
My heart pounds as we put distance between us, my face aching from the fake smile I’ve been holding. The moment we’re out of earshot, I let out a shaky breath, finally daring to look up at him.
His expression is unreadable—but his calm steadiness hasn’t wavered once.
By the time we reach the psych building steps, my pulse still hasn’t slowed. My parents are dots in the distance now, but the weight of what I just did hangs heavy in my chest.
I stop just short of the door, forcing myself to face him. “Beck—” My voice cracks. I swallow, then try again. “I know I owe you an explanation. That was…I shouldn’t have dragged you into it like that.”
He studies me for a beat, his expression curious, but not angry or even annoyed. Just…waiting.
Then he shakes his head once. “We’ve got class,” he says quietly. “We’ll talk after.”
Relief and dread slam into me at the same time. Relief that he isn’t walking away, dread over what comes next.
“Okay,” I whisper, hugging my notebook tighter to my chest.
And then he’s pulling the door open, holding it for me like nothing about this morning has rattled him at all—while inside, I’m nothing but frayed edges.
Class feels endless, my notes an absolute disaster of half-thoughts and scribbles. Every time I risk a glance at Beck beside me, he’s just…calm. Focused. Like nothing happened this morning at all. Meanwhile, my insides are knotted so tight I can barely breathe.
When the lecture finally ends, I take my time packing up, bracing myself for him to walk out without a word. But when I glance up, Beck is waiting for me near the aisle and my chest squeezes.
We step into the sunlight, the quad buzzing with students heading to their next classes. The words tumble out of me in a rush. “I’m sorry. About this morning. My parents cornered me, and I didn’t know what else to say, and I panicked, and—”
Beck cuts in, voice easy. “Relax, Sophie. I survived.”
I blink at him. He’s actually smiling, just a little, the corner of his mouth kicking up.
“It was…unexpected,” he admits. “Woke me up better than coffee ever has.”
A startled laugh bursts out of me, the tension loosening in my chest. “You’re not mad?”
He shakes his head, amused. “Mad? No. Confused, sure. But I’ve been through worse mornings.”
The relief that floods me is so strong it’s dizzying. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. I know that.”
He glances down at me, his expression softening. “You were backed into a corner. You did what you had to do. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Something hot prickles behind my eyes, because no one ever gives me that kind of grace. Not my parents. Not Zach. Not anyone.
Before I can say anything, he adds with a small smirk, “Just maybe a little warning next time.”
I nod quickly, a shaky smile tugging at my lips. “Deal.”
We reach the split in the path, where he veers toward the athletic building, and I go toward the library. He adjusts his bag strap, giving me one last look.
“See you Wednesday,” he says simply, his grin faint but real.
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the sun, lighter than I’ve felt in months.