Best Served Fake

one // own my heart

"I'm honestly going to kill her one day."

I raised an eyebrow sceptically at Sydney, who was glaring down at her phone with irritation, and taking her anger out on her plate of eggs and bacon. I thought this was a little bit unfair; the bacon had already been killed once. It was a tough day to be bacon.

I swirled the remnants of my iced coffee with my straw and leaned back into the solid warmth of my boyfriend, Tommy, who was tapping absently at his own phone. "No need to share your plans. I don't want to be an accessory to your crime and be sent off to prison. I have a moral objection against taking a dump in public toilets, and I don't want to die of constipation behind bars."

Tommy nudged my arm. "Cute."

Sydney shot a look at Tommy that suggested she didn't particularly care for his input. But we she turned back to me, she was grinning brightly. "You're such a class act, babe. But wouldn't we be the best prison roomies? We both rock in orange."

I nodded in agreement. "It would be an awesome week or so, you know, before I died of constipation. You could definitely beat up all the girls who try to kill me."

"I think she is trying to kill me," Sydney complained, glaring at her phone again. With her beautiful long hair held back by big, stylish sunglasses and the perfect coral manicure, Syd looked like the kind of girl who would be stalked by paparazzi in L.A., or have a very successful Youtube channel where she suggested that people could be just as hot as she was if they followed an elaborate skincare routine, and spent thousands of dollars on products using her affiliate code. But the way she was murdering her phone screen with her eyeballs was less Kim Kardashian, and more slasher-movie-villain.

I tilted my head sympathetically. "Cora?"

Sydney slumped forward, her head falling dramatically into her hands. "She's incessant. It's non-stop. 'Sydney, make sure you drink water and eat a handful of food before we go out tonight'. 'Sydney, Kai isn't coming to the party tonight, so please don't ditch the party to find him'. 'Sydney, make sure you don't hook up with anyone in poison ivy bush again, haha, LOL.' She's such a martyr."

"Cora can be... a little much with her concern, I guess," I replied carefully, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt that always accompanied my constant need to appease Sydney. "But she's probably right about the poison ivy. I don't think hives are coming into fashion anytime soon."

To be fair, Cora's concern could be suffocating, but Sydney could also be a little much with her need to always be the wildest member of every party she walked into. I had never particularly enjoyed being the in-between of our little trio; always toeing the line between joining Sydney for shots in the kitchen or following Cora to the bathroom to hold back hair or offer water to those in need.

Tommy had always had a clear opinion of the best side to take. He looked up from his phone to shoot Sydney a sneering look. "You're so right, she sounds like such a bitch. Caring about your health and wellbeing? How rude of her." He quite liked Cora—who was always sweet, and far more pleasant to him than Sydney ever had been—and didn't enjoy Sydney's relentless disparaging remarks.

"Well, you would know a thing or two about being overbearing, wouldn't you?" Sydney snapped back. Her smile didn't fade, but turned to something sharp and feline, wielded almost as if it were a blade. It was a smile that was downright vicious. "Is Valerie going to be allowed to leave your sight tonight, or did you want me to purchase a leash to make it easier for you?"

"I'm sure you have plenty in stock, you know, since you've been trying to bring Kai Delaney to heel for, what, five years now? Cora was right. Plan on following him from house to house again tonight?"