Page 38 of The Fake Out Flex

Move over, Breakup Sneeze Girl, and make way for Dance Floor Bambi.

I scrunch the napkin up and toss it onto the table.

So much for showing up to Bryce's wedding and sticking it to him. What was I seriously expecting would happen?

"This sucks," I mutter, lifting the champagne flute. "This really sucks."

"The ceremony was a tad on the long side," Fraser agrees, not missing a beat. "And the chicken was dry."

He's trying.

He's been trying so hard all day to be here for me.

He hasn't left my side.

He's been checking in with me and getting me drinks.

He's been great at handling all the attention coming his way when I know it’s precisely one of the reasons why he avoids social situations like this.

He doesn't like peopling at the best of times, but I guess he hates disappointing his fans even more. So he's been the perfect gentleman, smiling and listening as people gave him pointers and unsolicited advice about how he can fix his game, despite last night's thrilling win.

Who do these people think they are? Me?

In short, Fraser has been nothing but wonderful.

The problem isn't him.

"I don't mean the wedding sucks," I say with a sigh. "I mean…me. Coming here. I didn't think it through properly."

"What specifically didn't you think through properly?"

I take a sip of champagne. Okay, maybe it's more of a gulp. Then I push the flute away from me. I refuse to be the ex-girlfriend who gets wasted and does something embarrassing, like topple into the wedding cake.

"I mean, I got so fixated on being here. On showing up. On proving to everyone that I wasn't the loser sneezing girl they saw online, that I never really considered what I'd do once I got here."

"You have been remarkably well-behaved."

I let out a small hiccup, the bubbles from the champagne percolating in my chest. "I never intended to cause a scene."

"You really should have disclosed that upfront. I thought I had front-row seats to a romcom situation here, where you'd interrupt the speeches or maybe get down with one of the groomsmen, engage in some wildly inappropriate dancing."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"You haven't." He reaches across the table and pins me with a heated look. At least, I think it's a heated look. Or maybe the champagne's messing with me? "You couldn't."

I hold his gaze for a moment before blowing out a breath and looking at the wedding scene unfolding around us.

People are swaying on the dance floor, children scamper between tables, and everyone else is mingling and laughing and having a great time.

Everyone except for me, it seems.

And because I've been such a Debbie Downer, I'm sure Fraser isn't exactly having the time of his life, either. Bet he's regretting going along with Levi's silly idea now.

Another thing for me to feel bad about.

Great.

"Mercedes seems lovely. Bryce looks happy. But I'm just…lost. Floundering. Like I have no idea what I'm doing."

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