Page 177 of The Fake Out Flex

"Horrifically bad. I can't even look at a jalapeno without breaking into a sweat."

"Don't worry. I have a lifetime to get you used to handling a little heat."

"Nope. That one is totally non-negotiable."

"We'll see." I smile, staring into those beautiful blue eyes I'll get to stare into for the rest of my life. "I love you so much."

"I love you even more, Evie." Fraser leans in and kisses me, long and hard. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

The night flies by in a blur.

We dance with family and friends. We talk. We laugh. We drink. It's the most magical evening ever.

And then it's all over.

The cleaning staff start moving in as Fraser wanders over to me, his jacket casually flung over his shoulder. "Do I need to get you home before midnight or else you'll turn into a pumpkin?"

"No. But you do need to get me to an In-N-Out or I'll turn into something worse."

He laughs.

"What can I say?" I continue. "Dancing burns a lot of calories. I am famished."

Fraser smiles, extending his hand to help me up from my seat. "That's my girl."

My whole body flushes with happiness.

He doesn't do it often, but I love it when he calls me his girl.

It's an intoxicating combination of strength and possessiveness. It doesn't make me feel weak or less than. If anything, it fills me with a sense of empowerment, like I can do and be and achieve anything I set my mind to.

We hold hands as we make our way toward the exit when a high-pitched giggle rings out in the air.

Fraser glances over at me. "Was that you?"

"Yes. A hidden talent you have yet to uncover about me is that I'm a ventriloquist. Did you see my lips movi?—"

The giggle rings out again, louder this time.

Fraser points toward the corner of the room. "It's coming from over there."

We walk toward the sound coming from behind a row of tables and chairs stacked in the corner. We reach the end of the tables and peer over.

"Whoa," I exclaim.

"No way," Fraser says, breaking out into a huge grin.

Because there, lying on the floor, side by side, laughing hysterically—possibly because they're both tipsy—are our two best friends, Hannah and Culver.

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