Best Served Fake

twenty-four // drums of war

I awoke to sunlight streaming through open blinds, the scent of strong coffee and the unfamiliar warmth of a body pressed against me.

Consciousness swept me with a fervour uncommon for me in the morning; particularly after drinking. But the twin shock of a new environment and the startling realisation that I was cuddled up to Kai Delaney did wonders for waking a girl up.

Kai's arm was flung casually over my waist, caging me against the warm heat of his body. Our legs were tangled together in a complex pattern, like headphone cords; as if we'd tried to twine them together so irrevocably that they couldn't be separated, so that as many surfaces of my bare skin would be pressed against his. My head was resting in the hollow of his throat, but I could still feel the soft stir of his even breaths against my hair.

My own breath hitched in my throat. My eyes were still closed, and I couldn't even think about moving. I could feel the sun on my face, mid-morning sun, but I didn't dare do anything but flutter my eyelashes to adjust to the light.

Why were we cuddling? Did I want to be cuddling? I barely knew this boy, really, and this was supposed to be fake. We were supposed to be fake. So why were we cuddling, when it wasn't for show? When no one was watching?

"Oh good, you're awake. I was getting bored."

Well, maybe not no one.

Jameson was curled in the window seat, one leg tucked up beneath him and the other dangling toward the floor, two fingers holding a steaming cup of coffee. He was still shirtless, with mussed hair and bleary eyes. He raised an eyebrow at me as I blinked away the sleep in my eyes. "Jamie?" I croaked; my voice hoarse with disuse. I didn't dare speak too loudly; I didn't want to wake Kai. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he said cheerfully. "And I'll have you know; I was cuddling with the puke bucket all night. It was very intimate. We had a real deep and meaningful, sharing secrets and a bed and even bodily fluids; all of those wonderful bonding activities. The chemistry was insane." He nodded at Kai and I, twined together. "So really, you're the ones who should feel awkward right now."

Jamie didn't look as if he felt particularly awkward. He seemed to be gloating, the corner of his lips twisted with amusement, as if the status of my relationship to Kai was a deeply fascinating and humorous adventure. Which, to his credit, it was. To someone like Jamie, who knew Kai, a fling with Valerie Williams was completely out of left field. But he didn't look disbelieving; he just looked like he thought it was a rather grand lark.

"Were you watching us sleep, Edward?" I asked him softly.

Jamie waved a hand. "Oh, of course. My stomach is waging a campaign against me with a blinding headache as the fucking drums of war, and I thought it would be a comfort to watch my friend shamelessly cop a feel in his sleep." His grin was savage and mocking, but he was barely looking at me. It was a smile for him, just for him. "Thank you for your services."

"He's grumpy when he's hungover," came the rumble of Kai's voice. I felt the sound through the groaning rumble of his chest against me, the rough calibre of his voice sexy in the early morning light. "Don't pay him any attention. He doesn't say anything worth listening to."

At the sound of his voice, I paused, torn between ripping myself away from him to sit upright, or fighting the awkwardness of accidentally weaving our bodies together in the night by marinating in it. Maybe, if we stayed twined together for long enough, I could convince myself, and him, that this was totally normal and not at all weird and awkward. I was intensely grateful for the buffer of Jameson, who never shut the fuck up, ever.

He might not say anything worth listening to, but at least he was saying something. I couldn't think of a single thing to say, and if I opened my mouth, I was almost positive that the sound that erupted would be vaguely reminiscent of a dying pterodactyl screeching intelligibly into the sky.