Best Served Fake

fifty-six // the whole time

"Oh, I knew the whole time," said Will, looking up from where he was batting away Isabelle, who was holding an icepack to his hand.

We were all gathered in the Kennedy's living room, two nights after I'd found Kai on his back lawn and kissed the living daylights out of him. I was snuggled into Kai's side, and his presence was comforting, because it was the first time we'd debuted our real relationship in public. Jameson was sitting on my other side, his legs thrown across mine; Jameson was perpetually lounging, and didn't believe in personal space. Will was in one of the armchairs, with Isabelle perched on the side with the icepack, ready to jump up and fulfil any task Will had been planning to undertake himself, most of which involved mixing drinks and passing them around. Seb and Cora had slotted in on the last couch, with virgin daquiris that Cora had made as Isabelle had proclaimed it against her religion to mix.

I was already five cocktails deep, a little dizzy and a lot giggly, enjoying the countless stupid debates and the relentless ribbing that always accompanied a hangout with my friends. Jameson had declared that it was an abomination to not see his friends on a Saturday night—and claimed that he may as well check himself into a nursing home if he spent the evening on the couch drinking alone—but I thought the real tragedy was that I hadn't seen our friends, properly, for weeks.

I hadn't seen any of our friends since I'd spent the night at Kai's, except for Isabelle, who'd been in the kitchen the following morning with her lips pursed in a poor approximation of disapproval that didn't hide her amusement. It probably hadn't helped that my hair was mussed, and I was still sporting my school skirt from the day before, hastily paired with one of Kai's discarded tees. To be fair, I didn't know Isabelle would be home. She'd spent the previous night at Cora's, and I had been too preoccupied to remember Cora's tendency to early rising.

At least I'd had the opportunity to apologise for my role in what Tommy had done to her years ago. She had listened to my effusive chorus of sorry for barely ten seconds before waving me off, and insisting that the good I'd done by dating her youngest brother and bringing her oldest brother back far outweighed my unwitting role in her heartbreak from years prior.

Besides, she'd said, Tommy had met his maker for that one; Will was a big guy, so that didn't surprise me even a little.

But apparently everyone knew about our little sleepover rendezvous, maybe because Isabelle's loose lips were almost as bad as Jamie's, and it was the latter who'd spent half of the day wiggling his eyebrows at us. He also brought up the topic of our relationship, with the customary disbelief at our audacity to keep a secret from him, which had prompted Will's revelation.

"You knew about me and Kai?" I asked Will. "Being a fake couple?"

Will nodded. By this point, he'd given up on trying to ice his own hand, and had submitted to Izzy's ministrations. His defence of Isabelle had inspired a certain level of hero-worship from his best friend's sister, who seemed to be pathologically intent on ensuring Will's return to health. If it had been anyone else, Will might've been ready to deal out a second round of blows, but Isabelle was so eager to repay him for his actions that he indulged it.

So, he used his spare hand to gesture between me and Kai. "Of course, I knew. Not to say he wasn't completely obsessed with you from day one. But you guys basically dry-humped on top of me, and he was still nervous to fucking text you the next day." Will shrugged. "I know Kai. He wouldn't be nervous unless he didn't know how you felt, and no one would not know how you felt unless the dry-humping was for show."

I was vaguely embarrassed, now, at my alcohol spurred decision to mack on with Kai at Rebecca's party, especially since I'd pretty much subjected Will to a front row seat. Not that I regretted it, because it was fucking awesome, but I still had the grace to blush at his recollection.