Page 103 of The Fake Out Flex

There's a beat of silence before I hear, "You can open your eyes."

I do, and Fraser is standing in front of me, holding up a serving of large fries in his hand.

"Truth fries!"

He's grinning hard. His deep blue eyes are sparkling and bright, and it instantly shaves a few years off him, reminding me of how he used to look back in high school.

He shakes the fries, and the delicious smell wafts into my nose.

"I had a feeling you might be less than forthcoming, so I knew I had to call in some backup. You can hide from me all you want, but I know you'd never dishonor our pledge to the almighty fry."

I break out into a fit of giggles because this is all too much. In the best way ever.

Fraser hands me some fries and takes out another serving for himself. Then he crosses his legs, sits on the floor at the edge of the coffee table, casts a glance my way, and says, "Whenever you're ready. I've got all night. And by I've got all night, I actually mean I have to be at the airport in three hours to get on my red-eye. But hey, no pressure."

I'm so overwhelmed by this, by him, I can't even eat.

"My meeting didn't go well," I say, getting straight to it since we don't have a lot of time.

"Why not?" Fraser sets his fries down on the coffee table. "What's going on?"

"Same old story. My segments aren't generating the kind of numbers the network is looking for."

He blows out a frustrated breath. "People baffle me. Your latest story about Comfort Bay's oldest resident made me smile all day. Coach was worried something was wrong with me."

I don't know what to say to that.

Or to the flowers.

Or to him coming all this way to see me just because he suspected I was having a rough time and might have been in need of some cheering up. How is he so finely tuned to me?

"I'll be fine," I say, drawing on some of the confidence Margo has in me. "I have a month to turn things around."

"And what if you don't turn things around in a month?"

"Then I guess I'll be looking for a new job."

His jaw clicks. "What can I do to help?"

Margo's words echo in my head. Could Fraser's distrust of the media be overcome if I were the one interviewing him?

His eyes are fixed on me with a deep focus. I can feel the words right there, tickling the tip of my tongue…but I just can't bring myself to say them aloud. I can't ask him for this favor. I just can't. It's too much.

"You being here is amazing. Unbelievable, actually." I take a breath. "I'll…I'll figure out my work stuff on my own."

His unwavering gaze remains fixed on me. "Okay. But if I can do anything to help, let me know."

"I will."

A brief silence ensues.

"There's another reason I came," Fraser says, his voice carrying a husky rasp that wasn't there a moment ago.

"What's that?"

He hauls himself off the floor and joins me on the couch, sitting so close our knees almost touch.

"I've been doing some thinking."

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