Best Served Fake

thirty-two // the questions game

"The questions game?" Kai asked on Sunday morning.

We were tucked into a booth at the back of my favourite café; the same one that had begun this whole charade after Kai had ploughed into my car. It was a little strange to recall that this fun, flirty friendship had begun with leverage and blackmail. You know, in a friendly way. 

Instead of looking frazzled and lost as he had that day, Kai was relaxed into the cushioned booth, looking a little confused but mostly just pleased to be there. His hair was damp and curled slightly at the ends, and somehow, it made him even better looking than usual, which was quite the feat. Something about the rumpled, casual look really worked for me; maybe because it showed that he was somehow effortlessly perfect when he clearly couldn't have been trying less. He held his coffee mug with both hands, and it was somehow endearing, and not the kind of thing I'd usually notice.

I had a smoothie instead of coffee, because coffee tasted like death reheated in my humble opinion, and I sipped tentatively on the straw. "Yep! The questions game. I'm talking 20 questions middle school style, except that I am going to ask even more questions. It's going to be questions galore."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, this sounds like a great time. But when you texted me for an urgent meeting, I didn't think it would be for a deep dive on my favourite colour and the list of movies that make me cry."

He truly didn't seem annoyed. He was smiling at me, curious but obliging. Kai was always so... placid. Easy-going. I knew him to be lazily amused, likeable, but I hadn't realised that it was a trait that went beyond flirting. That it wasn't just an act to seem casual and blasé when approached by a pretty girl. He was just one of those people whose peace and patience was so intrinsically ingrained. It was... nice.

If only I could absorb some of that easy, casual energy. Instead, I responded in typical Valerie fashion; rambling. "Well, I was talking to Cora, and she was going on and on about the Saints game this weekend and how she was going with you and Isabelle, and I said, 'oh, I didn't realise Kai was such a Saints fan', and then she looked at me weird because apparently this is something I should have already known! I mean, she wasn't too weirded out, but since we're about to become more serious, I feel like I should've known that. As it turns out, I know, like, three facts about you, and if someone puts me on the spot and asks me what the tattoo on your ass says or what your middle name is, I'm going to look like a really shit future girlfriend if I don't know the answer."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "You could always make up a middle name."

I shook my head. "I would definitely panic. Most likely ramble. And everyone would forever know you as Kai Artichoke Delaney or something, and then you'd look really stupid."

He'd been in the process of raising his mug—with two hands—but he paused. "Artichoke?"

"I don't know, your parents might be hippies! But I wouldn't even know, hence the looking-like-a-terrible-girlfriend thing. But then people might be like, 'hey, Valerie is historically a great girlfriend, and it's very out of character that she would think Kai's last name is Artichoke because I heard it was Jeremy' and then they'll realise we're not actually going out, and suddenly I'm embarrassed because I had to resort to financial blackmail of high school's most eligible bachelor to save face after my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend!"

Kai put down his mug. "Okay, so I think the questions game might be a good idea."

He was nice enough not to say, because you might have a small mental breakdown otherwise. Which I thought was quite generous of him, really.

"Also," Kai added. "I fear you might have a small mental breakdown otherwise."

I hid my grin behind my cup.