Best Served Fake

thirty-six // what-the-actual-fuck o'clock

A/N: this is the longest chapter i've ever written and for pacing it probably needs to be longer, but that's a future-editing problem. enjoy!

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

The sky had only just deepened to a bright orange when my phone rung, and I'd barely managed to squint my eyes open enough to register that the faint buzzing wasn't a strange addition to my dream about Kai as a weirdly good-looking fish helping me look for my son. I swore with a sleep-croaky rasp and fumbled a numb hand across my bedside table. Unlike me, he sounded lively, awake. As if it was totally normal for him to call me in the ungodly hours of the morning.

It was four days after the swimming carnival and subsequent introduction to Maria Delaney, and I hadn't spoken to Kai beyond a small attempt to catch up over the long weekend that he'd told me wouldn't work because he was spending the weekend with his brother in Casserine. It felt weird, to have barely spoken to him; I was used to constant texting, to always seeing him, and the MIA treatment felt strange. A Thursday swimming carnival followed by four days off without Kai to keep me entertained had been... nice, mostly. I'd spent the day with Mum, the nights at work or Madi's house, but I still missed Kai. And, if I was honest with myself, Sydney.

But when I'd mentally wished for my friends, a 5AM call wasn't what I'd had in mind.

If anyone had told me two months ago that Jameson Miller would be calling me on a Monday morning to ask me about my plans for the day, I'd... well, I'd probably have assumed he was arrogant enough to think that hitting on me would work despite my two-year relationship. And if you'd then told me that, no, he was calling because you were friends now, I wouldn't have known what to think. It was strange, really, to think of all the fundamental ways my life had changed since my relationships with Tommy and Sydney had imploded. Although, at least when Tommy and Sydney had decided to be backstabbing traitors, they'd had the consideration to wait until a reasonable hour.

"Jamie," I mumbled. "What the fuck, dude."

"What?"

"Why are you calling me at ridiculous what-the-actual-fuck o'clock?"

"Oh. I couldn't sleep."

If I could open my eyes enough to do so, I would've rolled them so hard they got lost in the back of my head. The light spilling through the cracks of my blinds was a russet blend of early sun and moonlight, and my eyelashes felt heavy as they feathered against my cheekbones. Sunrise, for fucks sake. I didn't like my new friends that goddamn much. Not even Jameson was charming enough to make a sunrise phone call a pleasant experience.

"Uh-huh, couldn't sleep," I mumbled. "Well, I can. Jamie, it's like 5AM."

"Is it? Shit, I'm sorry," Jameson's tone betrayed genuine surprise and remorse. "I didn't look at the time, I honestly had no idea it was that late."

"Late?" I rolled over, the phone still pressed to my ear. I couldn't keep my eyes open as I spoke, drifting halfway between consciousness and sleep. My voice was barely a mumble. "Have you not gone to bed yet?"

"I was going to. But I was distracted by quality literature and couldn't stop until I'd finished it, Valerie. I'm a scholar, an academic!"

I didn't deign that with a response. His enthusiasm and wakefulness made me want to punch him, except that I would prefer to languish beneath my warm covers asleep than go to the effort of violence.

Jamie sighed. "Fine, Izzy left one of her glorified porno books at my place and I read it so that I can make fun of her and her terrible taste." He paused, as if waiting for me to make fun of him. I was too tired to do anything but mumble something half-hearted and unintelligible. He sighed. "Okay, fine, it's called Living With Boys and it's a published Wattpad novel and I wanted to know which of the boys she would be fucking. Sue me."