Page 83 of The Fake Out Flex

"It was other things, though. He didn't get my humor. In fact, I think I kind of exhausted him. He was naturally a morning person. He hated farmer's markets. He liked my parents. He bought me the one and only type of flower I'm allergic to. I mean, I couldn't have asked for clearer signs from the universe that we just weren't meant to be."

Listening to Evie rattle off all of jerkface's faults has got me gritting my teeth so hard, I'm surprised they haven't been crushed yet from the sheer force.

"And there were some other ways we were incompatible."

A slight blush rises up her neck, and I get that feeling again that maybe she's hinting at something to do with her boundaries.

Definitely won't be pressing her on that. If she wants to tell me, she can, but only if and when she's ready.

She picks up a fry and dangles it in front of my face. "And now do you, Fraser Rademacher, 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?"

"I do," I reply, dipping my head earnestly in agreement. "Anything you want to ask, just ask. I'm an open book."

Evie giggles again, and once I hear what I just said, I start chuckling, too.

"You are many things, but an open book? Hardly."

My cheeks get a little warmer. "You're right. I'm not. I don't know why I said that."

Maybe because when I'm around her, those words actually ring true. Evie could ask me anything, and I'd tell her.

Well, apart from the family secret, but that's only because we all agreed we'd keep it. If I wanted to change that rule, I'd have to run it past my family. It sucks because it's the one thing—the only thing—I can't be fully truthful about with Evie.

"What's your dating story?" she asks. "Have you found 'the one' yet?"

I have, and she's sitting on the floor across from me, chomping down on a fry, completely oblivious to my feelings because I'm too much of a coward to tell her how I feel.

"I, uh…guess not. Not yet, anyway."

"It wasn't Tori?"

"It definitely wasn't Tori."

"I didn't think she seemed like your type. She was a little, uh, outgoing."

"If by outgoing you mean she would have done anything for press, including selling our private vacation photos to an online entertainment website, then yes, you're right."

Evie winces. "I had no idea she did that. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. I seem to be a magnet for that type of girl, you know? They don't really care about me, they're only interested in dating a pro hockey player. The attention. The lifestyle. All the frivolous stuff that I couldn't care less about but that comes with being a pro athlete."

I stop talking, aware I might be playing the victim when I'm not. I just attract women who crave the limelight.

Tori never once asked me about my favorite book. Or whether I like cats or dogs. Or even really delved into my family or childhood.

We weren't on the same wavelength.

Oh, and the banter between us? Non-existent.

Tori once asked me if I was having a mild stroke when I went on a mini-rant about the unusual way the cashier was bagging groceries at the store.

But Evie?

She would've jumped right in there with no hesitation, riffing off me and probably bringing in the checkout dividers—which I'm sure she would have given names to—and it'd be something we'd spend the rest of the day talking and laughing about.

I clear my throat. "I still haven't forgiven Dawn for setting me up with her."

As if sensing I'm keen to change the subject, Evie asks, "How is Dawn doing these days?"

---