Page 81 of The Fake Out Flex

Evie and I are fake dating. Even if the friendship forming between us is every bit real.

"I come bearing burgers and truth fries," she proclaims with a wide smile, carrying what looks like two very full takeout bags.

I jolt myself back to reality. "Awesome. I'm starving. Where do you want to eat?"

"If you actually were my boyfriend, I'd say something like, let's eat at the table like adults. Or, if the relationship was going really well and I felt secure enough, I might suggest sitting on the floor and eating at the coffee table and make it appear like that wasn't my preferred—no, wait, my sole—way of eating."

"So floor it is, then," I say, taking the bags from her.

Her face lights up. "I knew Levi kept you around for a reason."

We sit down and dig in. Evie's eyes flit between the TV, the food, and me. She deftly keeps the conversation light, and it's like almost-kiss number two never happened.

Maybe that's how she'd prefer it? To leave it behind. She is all about moving on, isn't she?

But that doesn't stop me from being curious about how she's doing.

How she's really doing.

I'm not normally one to pry, but I decide to use this situation to my advantage and perform a deep-fried power play.

I pick up a fry and extend it toward her. "Do you, Evie Freeman, solemnly swear to follow the fry oath and tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help the gods of deep fried food and baked goods?"

She drops her burger and lifts her hand by the side of her face. "I do…if I can have that fry."

"Why would you want a fry from me?" I drop my gaze. "Oh. You ate yours already, huh?"

"I did."

She seems a little uncomfortable, but not as all-out embarrassed as she was the first time this happened.

Or the second.

Or even the third.

"How about from now on, we only get large fries so we can share them?"

Her lips curve into a smile. "Deal."

How weird, on the Rademacher scale of weirdness, is it that I think it's sexy that she likes to eat?

I slide my fries into the center of the coffee table.

She takes one and nibbles on the end. "So what is it you want to know that requires pledging allegiance to the almighty fry?"

"Well, we've been hanging out a bit."

"We have."

"We talk."

"Mainly me, but sure, we do."

I smile. "But we haven't talked about one topic. In fact, we've avoided it altogether."

"What topic might that be?"

"Love."

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