Page 77 of The Fake Out Flex

Having time together. Privately. Alone.

No cameras.

No deliberate attention-seeking.

No pretending.

The time we spend like this feels very, very real. Like how it used to feel back in high school.

I don't know what it is, but there's something about Evie that loosens me up. Dismantles whatever guardrails I have.

All without even trying. It just…happens.

Which means I have to tread carefully here. Something else I am acutely aware of.

I can't forget this is a limited arrangement. I'm already way luckier than I have any right to be, getting to spend this much time with her.

I have to make the most of whatever time we have left, because at some point, she'll want to end this craziness and return to her regular life, and I'll go back to being alone.

Which is fine.

Whatever.

I'm okay with that since I'm clearly not cut out for relationships, judging by my dating track record up until this point.

I ring the doorbell and mentally brace myself for that tingly feeling that randomly pops up whenever we're together.

She opens the door and smiles brightly. Right on cue, my chest tingles.

"Fraser, hi! Oh, my gosh, you bought flowers. Again. You know, I was just wondering whether you would. But then I said to myself, Evie, stop it. The man is not obligated to bring you flowers every time he sees you. But then I countered that with, But, hey, if your fake boyfriend likes bringing you flowers, let him. But then I thought I should probably tell you that you don't have to bring me flowers. I don't want it to feel like an obligation or a chore. So, wait…um, I've lost my train of thought. I did have a point to all this rambling."

I laugh, handing her the bouquet. "My key takeaway is that you like it when I bring you flowers. Correct?"

"Correct."

"And I like bringing you flowers, so there's no issue."

I give her an all too brief peck on the cheek and step inside her apartment. It's my first time here. Given the hectic season schedule, all the time we've spent together has been when Evie has flown out to see me play away games.

Our private hangouts have always been in hotel suites, where we devour room service burgers, then rearrange the furniture, lie down on the floor, stare up at the ceiling, and talk…like we used to.

I've got a mandatory bye week this week, so I've snuck in a quick trip to Comfort Bay for two days. I've already gotten to see Dawn and Oakey. I'll do the obligatory family thing tomorrow, but right now, the only thing that matters is getting to spend some time with Evie.

"So this is Château Evie," I remark, taking it in.

The place is quintessential Evie. Charming. Eclectic. Colorful. Slightly chaotic, with artfully stacked books, an assortment of vibrant plants by the massive window, and a collage of framed posters.

I smile when I notice they're a lot like the ones she had in her bedroom, a mix of hockey players and punk music album covers. The last frame displays four prominent women in hockey today, just like the four-in-one photo she used to have back in high school.

"It's a mess, and if you were an actual boyfriend, I'd make up some lie about it."

"What sort of lie?"

"You know, like, Oh, I've just been so busy at work, I haven't had time to clean, or, Normally I'm not this messy." Her hazel eyes meet mine. "But it's you…"

She pokes my chest with her finger…and yep, tingles.

"…and I'm sure you remember how messy my teenage bedroom was."

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