Best Served Fake

two // kiss my flirtatious ass

Sydney's grin was downright mischievous as she led the way, drinks in hand, down the main street. It was a sunny day in mid-autumn, and the leaves overhead were a bright array of reds and oranges, stolen from the branches with every light breeze.

"So, I was hooking up with this college guy," Sydney was telling me. "And he was over at my place, and he complained about being really thirsty. But when I offered him some water, he kept trying to tell me that if it was from the tap, it had this chemical in it that turns you gay. And I was like, first of all, no, and second of all, who cares? But not only is he a raging homophobe, he's a raging povo homophobe with a broken car, and he kept saying that Uber was overpriced, so he refused to leave—"

I nodded along to her story absently and smiled with vague amusement. Sydney always had a crazy dating story or amusing party anecdote; I could see her every day for a week, but as soon as I left her alone for a moment, she was texting me with another wild tale. If I was confronted with a raging homophobe college guy who refused to leave my house, it was be the most insane thing that ever happened to me. For Syd, it might just round up the top five for the week.

"Well, what did you do?" I asked, as her story trailed off. "Tell me it involved the hasty removal of his testicles."

She always paused at the climax of the story, leaving time for dramatic tension to build, and waited for the audience to ask a question, prove they were listening. They always were.

She grinned at me. "You'll never believe this." I would. "I called Daniel to come in and fight him, expecting that he would defend my honour or something."

Daniel was Sydney's brother; he was a year older than us, and I couldn't imagine him fighting anyone. He didn't particularly favour any activities that involved speed or alacrity.

"Anyway," Syd continued. "This guy thought that because Dan was wearing a pink shirt, he was gay too, and I'm not even joking, this guy practically shat himself. Something about how we must've been drinking too much of the tap water! Fled from the house like there was a thousand wild boars on his tail."

"I didn't know people like that even existed," I said, aware of the possibility that they didn't.
Sydney never lied in her retellings, but she had the tendency to add a little mayo. I didn't mind; it often made for a better story. "Do you know where he lives? I want to paint his house pink while he's sleeping."

The smile that Sydney shot me was self-indulgent and pleased, and it only brightened as we turned the corner into the public park, and she spied a familiar head of dark hair leaning against a dark monster truck of a car, chatting flirtatiously with a pretty blonde girl.

I levelled a judgemental gaze at Sydney. "No."

Her eyes were vibrant. "Yes."

"This is stalking," I hissed.

Sydney was grabbing my wrist now, and dragging me reluctantly after her. "It's not stalking. It would be rude to see a classmate and not say hi."

I glared after her. "And you're telling me that you had no idea he was here? AKA, stalking."

Sydney waved me off. "Someone may have mentioned it. But maybe I just fancied a walk in the park with my gorgeous best friend and light of my life, and it's not my fault if, coincidentally, Kai Delaney just happened to be at the closest park."

I blew a loose strand of hair away from my face. "I feel like I'm aiding and abetting a bad addiction. This is a genuine problem. I'm at least 90% sure it's a crime.""

She turned and grabbed my elbows, bending down until I was looking her directly in the eyes. Hers had always been the brightest of blues, like the ocean on a summer afternoon, clear and piercing. "And that 10% means you will totally support my motion. Besides, don't you have so much fun doing it?"