Page 157 of The Fake Out Flex

I want to chase after him and not let another second go by without clearing this up, but I have never seen Fraser this angry.

As much as it kills me, I need to give him some time to cool off.

I run to the window, every cell in my body on fire, watching as he storms to his Range Rover.

Look up, look up, look up, I silently will him.

But he doesn't.

There's no look.

No smile.

No wave.

Nothing.

He climbs into his car, slamming the door shut. The lights come on, the engine roars to life, and with a screech of tires, he speeds off down the street.

I watch from the window, waiting until he turns the corner and disappears from view.

And then I turn, back onto the wall, and slide all the way down to the floor, ribbons of tears running down my face.

What have I done?…

"I'm sorry about the change of plans, you guys," I mutter, before loudly slurping the last of my strawberry milkshake through my straw, as Hannah, Beth, Summer, and Amiel pile into the booth.

It's my third milkshake. Not that I'm counting.

Because yes, I am that girl who group-texted her friends last night and hijacked this morning's sunrise walk to instead drown her sorrows with all the dairy and pancakes Bear can supply.

I drizzle an unhealthy amount of maple syrup over my second stack—which I'm also not counting—and let out a depressed groan, "I'm a mess."

"We can tell, we have eyes," Beth says bluntly, as only Beth can.

"Tell us everything that happened," Hannah instructs. "Start at the beginning, and leave nothing out."

I wave my empty frosted glass at Bear, who gives a nod of understanding, and I proceed to fill my friends in on the events of last night, starting with Levi's super cool reaction to Fraser and I being together for real before the family dinner.

I tell them that, despite the food being way too spicy for him, Fraser did a decent job keeping up with us, that the conversation flowed well, and that all in all, it was a great evening.

I omit the specifics of his first I love you and leave it at, "He probably won't be in a rush to eat spicy food any time soon."

And then I move on to the pièce de résistance. The first official I love you…which was swiftly followed by our first fight.

"I excused myself to the bathroom for a moment, and when I returned, he was looking at the story pitch I've been working on," I say glumly. "He was furious, you guys. I've never seen him like that before."

"What did he say?" Amiel asks.

"Nothing. He just stormed out." I drag my hands across my sleep-deprived eyes. "And you know what's even worse than Fraser being angry at me?"

They all shake their heads.

"I'm angry at me. That I didn't just come out and tell him my idea. Fraser would have nixed it immediately, and that would have been that. Case closed. Move on. Now? Now it looks like I've deliberately gone behind his back and deceived him. He already has trust issues and a hard time letting people in. And then I go ahead and do something stupid like this. He must be feeling so betrayed right now."

In one of only a handful of instances in all of human history, the Fast-Talking Four-slash-Five are actually silent.

I feel horrible. Like pond scum. Worse than pond scum. I feel like whatever looks at pond scum and thinks, That's an upgrade.

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