Page 31 of Faking with Three

“Are you seeing this, Olivia?” Mom’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and accusing. “I raised you better than this! Dumping soup on someone? What were you thinking?”

“She provoked me!” I argue, pacing the room. “You didn’t hear the garbage she was spewing, Mom. Besides, the soup wasn’t even as hot as she’s claiming it was.”

“Garbage or not, you don’t go around making a scene like that! Especially not in public!”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to rein in my rising frustration. “I’ll handle it, okay? I’ll figure out a way to fix this.”

“You’d better,” she snaps. “Because the last thing I need is my friends calling me to gossip about you.” She hangs up with a decisive click, leaving me standing there, staring at the TV as Charlie continues her melodramatic recounting of last night’s events.

I shake my head, muttering to myself. “Unbelievable.” My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen to see Ethan’s name flashing. Great. Just great.

But before I deal with him, I need coffee. Lots of it. And maybe a moment to figure out how in the world I’m going to clean up this mess.

The crisp autumn air does little to cool me off, though I welcome the bite against my skin. It’s the kind of morning where even caffeine feels like an afterthought, but my feet lead me to the coffee shop anyway.

The café is tucked into the corner of the street, its red-bricked exterior softened by cascading ivy. A little chalkboard sign out front boasts “Pumpkin Spiced Everything!” and “Locally Roasted Joy.” Inside, the scent of cinnamon and fresh coffee hits me like a warm hug. The chatter of early risers mixes with the hum of a cappuccino machine. It’s cozy but bustling, with eclectic furniture that looks like it was picked out at various garage sales—a patchwork quilt of charm.

I’m halfway through the line, scrolling through my phone and trying not to glare at theLove Labnotifications blowing up my social media, when my phone rings. I see Colin—Death Crunch flash on the screen. My partner. Great.

I swipe to answer. “Hey, Colin.”

“Olivia,” he says, his voice both cautious and concerned. “Is everything okay with you?”

I sigh, not knowing where he’s going with this. “Yeah, why?”

There’s a pause, then he clears his throat. “Uh, so… my mom sent me a link this morning.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. “What link, Colin?”

“Something about you… and soup. And a local reporter?” He hesitates, probably gauging how close I am to losing it. “She said, and I quote, ‘Your boss made the local news. Is this the kind of leadership you’re inspired by?’”

I groan loudly, earning a few curious glances from the people in line. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replies, but there’s a faint hint of amusement in his tone. “I mean, it was a bold move, but…”

“Don’t,” I warn, cutting him off. “Don’t even joke about this, Colin. The last thing I need is for this to get out any more than it already has.”

“I get it,” he says quickly. “I haven’t told anyone else. And I’ll make sure no one at Death Crunch hears about it.”

“Good.” I glance around the coffee shop, lowering my voice. “Because if our rivals catch wind of this, they’ll turn it into ammo. I can’t let them have that.”

“You have my word,” Colin says, his tone serious now. “But, Liv, are you sure you’re okay? This doesn’t sound like you.”

I hesitate, fiddling with the strap of my bag. “I’m fine, Colin. Really. Just… dealing with some stuff. I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Okay,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Call me if you need anything. And try to stay out of trouble, will you?”

“Noted,” I mutter, hanging up just as it’s my turn to order.

As I step up to the counter, I feel it—the subtle shift in the air, the way people’s gazes flicker toward me and then quickly away. Someone behind me whispers loudly enough for me to catch it.

“Isn’t that the girl fromLove Lab?”

“No way. The one who threw soup? Yeah, that’s definitely her.”

I pretend not to hear, though my cheeks burn. Another voice, softer but still audible, pipes up, “She’s… bigger than I thought.”

I clench my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the barista. “Just a black coffee. Medium.”

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