Best Served Fake

fifty-five // the best thing

Cora dropped me off at the Delaney house with my heart in my throat and my lunch threatening to make a reappearance on the nature strip. It felt oddly fitting that this was where I'd be reunited with Kai Delaney; it was the place where I'd first blackmailed him, the first real conversation we'd had. It didn't make me want to run for the hills any less.

I'd even made Cora stop at Maccas on the way over, and she'd indulged my obvious tactic to avoid confronting Kai. I wanted to see him—desperately—but I'd also basically hinted I was in love with him over text, and didn't know if I was prepared to so thoroughly put my heart on the line. The last time I'd done it had not gone so well, with the exception of the directly subsequent moments, which had actually gone very, very well. But the follow-up fortnight of being ignored was not the pinnacle of emotional triumph for me.

"He's out back," said Cora through the window. She was dropping my car off at home, and would probably have a wine with my mother in the process. Which meant that, if this conversation didn't go well, I would be forced to endure an extremely awkward lift home with the boy I'd just professed my unrequited love for.

"Thanks, Cora," I said.

"Hey, Valerie?" said Cora. When I looked at her, she smiled. "I love you too, you know?"

"I know." I emulated her words from earlier, and she gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up as she shifted into drive and pulled away. At least if this all went down the shitter, I would have Cora.

I trekked the same path I had that first night, so many months ago, when it was March and the leaves were all orange and gold, except the eucalyptus in Kai's front yard. Now, I hugged my arms around myself against the August chill that crept in when the sun inched lower, toward the horizon. It was a nice day; the sun was out and the leaves were still on the trees, but sunset rapidly approached with the promise of a cold night. I clutched the hot bag of Maccas chips against my stomach and rounded the corner.

I wasn't prepared for the reality of seeing Kai Delaney again. He was lying on a weather-inappropriate sun lounger, his face tipped upward so the rays of dying sunlight cast shadows and highlight across his face, rendering his inky black eyelashes gold. He looked beautiful, and the sight of him after so long stole the breath from my lungs. He'd always had this effect on me—I was easily swayed by beauty; fascinated by it—but now it seemed to hit me with the force of a blow.

I cleared my throat, and he looked up. A smile teased the corner of his lips as he drank me in; the plaited skirt of the school uniform and the shirt I never properly tucked, the blazer resting on my shoulders and the sleek high ponytail I'd readjusted in the car. He was far more casually dressed; he wore a dark t-shirt and worn jeans, and something about the simplicity made me want to jump him.

But neither of us moved, each studying the other to see who was going to make the first move. I did. I held up the bag. "I brought food."

Kai's smile tilted just a little higher. "Were those the three words?" Wry, apprehensive, but speaking to me. His voice was rough and stilted, as if he wasn't used to the cadence of speaking to me anymore. I hadn't heard him speak since one of our late-night phone calls in Canberra, and I missed the easy conversations we'd always shared.

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course, did you expect anything else?"

"Not at all," he said, easily, falling back into our customary banter without a beat. But he also stood up, unfurling to his full height, and stepped closer to me. "What was my four-word reply supposed to be?"

I counted the words off on my hands. "Thanks. For. Being. Benevolent."

"Funny," he said on a huff of laughter.