Best Served Fake

twenty-five // you're disgusting, james

"I'm hungover, and I swear to god, if Valerie and Kai insult my gag reflex by being disgusting, I will puke on all of you."

It was strange to be attending a hangout with Kai's friends outside of school. By this point, even though it had only been a week, I'd grown accustomed to the lunch table; Will's sarcastic quips, Sebastian's disgruntled amusement at Jamie's easy jokes, and Kai's steadfast presence. But it felt like intruding on the sanctity of long-held traditions when Cora and I strolled in the lounge room at Will's house on Sunday afternoon.

It was even more awkward because Kai hadn't arrived yet. While things between us were decidedly uncomfortable—the fun consequence of a making out and cuddling and having neither be strictly real—I still wished he were already here. I'd even take Isabelle, who it was impossible to feel awkward around.

Instead, it was just Will and Jameson; the former of whom was in the kitchen, chopping something on a cutting board, and the latter of whom was spread across the couch looking like death. The kitchen was at the back of the living room, with a large dining table in the centre of the room, backing onto two plush couches and a television. One of the walls was entirely comprised of windows, letting in light that brightened the space.

Will's house wasn't as big as Jameson's, but it was still impressive, and unlike Jamie's house, it felt lived in and loved in. There were photographs of Will as a child, tucked in between parents, and then later holding a little bundle that must have been his little sister. The lights were warm, and some of the walls had tiny scratches that were the inevitable consequence of children who liked to play and have fun.

As Cora called out a cheery greeting and went to join Will in the kitchen—ever helpful—I dropped into the spot beside Jamie. He didn't bother to move his legs to accommodate me, so I just let mine rest on top of his.

I poked Jameson's arm experimentally, and he hissed his disapproval. "How are you still hungover? It's been two days."

Jamie looked at me blearily. "Still? This is a different hangover. I went out last night."

I raised an eyebrow, thinking of Jamie yesterday morning, looking like a zombie that had been exhumed at least five times. "How ambitious of you."

He shrugged. "A beautiful girl invited me to a club; how could I say no?"

Jamie must've already turned eighteen. Sometimes I was grateful that my birthday was at the end of the year; I'm sure it would be easy to get distracted by clubs and bars and pubs once you were legal, and I wouldn't be until after my final exams were over.

"And she didn't turn you away when you showed up looking like death reheated?" Will inquired from behind the counter.

Jameson looked pleased with himself. "Not at all. If you know what I mean."

Will rolled his eyes. "I always know what you mean, James."

"You're disgusting, James," Cora added lightly. She had a knife in hand and was helping Will with the food preparation. Will was trying to bat her hand away to refuse help, but Cora seemed to be threateningly brandishing the knife at him. I couldn't help but grin; violently helpful, the Cora Hart guarantee.

I nodded my confirmation. "You're disgusting, James."

"Oh, coming from," said Jameson, waving his hand at me. "Holland Rivers tells me you and Kai were going at it like fucking wolves in heat at Rebecca's party."

"That is true," Cora confirmed. At my horrified expression, she just grinned. "Well, it is true. It was quite graphic."

"I'm so upset I missed it," Jamie said mournfully.