Page 8 of The Fake Out Flex

The one I've kept ever since senior year?

That one could totally blow up in my face.

Because even though Evie is my best friend's younger sister.

Even though she has every right to be mad at me for how abruptly I left, without even saying goodbye or properly thanking her for the bracelet she made for me.

Even though she's probably never once even considered me in any sort of romantic light at all.

I can't say the same.

The truth is—the truth that no living soul in the world knows—I am truly, madly, deeply, head-over-skates in love with Evelyn Freeman. I have been since senior year.

I never acted on my feelings back then because, hello, she was a sophomore and way too young.

I had too much respect for her to ever try to take advantage of her in any way. I would never do that.

Not to mention Levi.

Nope. Evie was totally off-limits.

I always tried to keep some distance between us. It would have looked bad enough if I'd been caught sneaking into her bedroom late at night. The last thing I needed was for them to jump to the wrong conclusion.

The thing is, I only realized how deep my feelings for her were a week before my family's world changed forever, and I got whisked away to a training camp, ending my close connection with Evie.

We've both moved on with our lives.

I made my way through juniors, to the AHL, to now playing in the major leagues, while Evie graduated high school, went to UCLA, and then returned to Comfort Bay, where she landed a reporting role on a local morning show two towns over.

For seven years, I've kept a lid on my emotions.

No one suspects a thing.

Not Evie.

Not Levi.

No one from our families.

Even the Comfort Bay Stick Our Noses into Everyone's Lives committee remains blissfully unaware.

But now, with this one decision to accompany Evie to her ex's wedding, I risk ruining everything.

Reining in my feelings is easier when I'm not here. When I'm not around her. When it's not just the two of us. Alone.

She'll be classic Evie—upbeat, witty, gorgeous—and I'm going to have to pretend like…like I'm immune.

Like she's just my best friend's little sister. Someone I used to know and spent some time with all those years ago.

How am I meant to do that when the truth is, no one I've met or dated since has even come close to making me feel the things she made me feel?

The door swings open, snapping me out of my thoughts. I plaster on a smile. "Hey, buddy."

"Fraser. My man."

I hug my best friend. "It's good to see you. You're looking well. Have you lost a few pounds?"

"LA passed an ordinance banning carbs, remember?" He smiles, then his eyes drift to the flowers. "Aw. You shouldn't have."

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