A/N: this is the longest chapter i've ever written and for pacing it probably needs to be longer, but that's a future-editing problem. enjoy!
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
The sky had only just deepened to a bright orange when my phone rung, and I'd barely managed to squint my eyes open enough to register that the faint buzzing wasn't a strange addition to my dream about Kai as a weirdly good-looking fish helping me look for my son. I swore with a sleep-croaky rasp and fumbled a numb hand across my bedside table. Unlike me, he sounded lively, awake. As if it was totally normal for him to call me in the ungodly hours of the morning.
It was four days after the swimming carnival and subsequent introduction to Maria Delaney, and I hadn't spoken to Kai beyond a small attempt to catch up over the long weekend that he'd told me wouldn't work because he was spending the weekend with his brother in Casserine. It felt weird, to have barely spoken to him; I was used to constant texting, to always seeing him, and the MIA treatment felt strange. A Thursday swimming carnival followed by four days off without Kai to keep me entertained had been... nice, mostly. I'd spent the day with Mum, the nights at work or Madi's house, but I still missed Kai. And, if I was honest with myself, Sydney.
But when I'd mentally wished for my friends, a 5AM call wasn't what I'd had in mind.
If anyone had told me two months ago that Jameson Miller would be calling me on a Monday morning to ask me about my plans for the day, I'd... well, I'd probably have assumed he was arrogant enough to think that hitting on me would work despite my two-year relationship. And if you'd then told me that, no, he was calling because you were friends now, I wouldn't have known what to think. It was strange, really, to think of all the fundamental ways my life had changed since my relationships with Tommy and Sydney had imploded. Although, at least when Tommy and Sydney had decided to be backstabbing traitors, they'd had the consideration to wait until a reasonable hour.
"Jamie," I mumbled. "What the fuck, dude."
"What?"
"Why are you calling me at ridiculous what-the-actual-fuck o'clock?"
"Oh. I couldn't sleep."
If I could open my eyes enough to do so, I would've rolled them so hard they got lost in the back of my head. The light spilling through the cracks of my blinds was a russet blend of early sun and moonlight, and my eyelashes felt heavy as they feathered against my cheekbones. Sunrise, for fucks sake. I didn't like my new friends that goddamn much. Not even Jameson was charming enough to make a sunrise phone call a pleasant experience.
"Uh-huh, couldn't sleep," I mumbled. "Well, I can. Jamie, it's like 5AM."
"Is it? Shit, I'm sorry," Jameson's tone betrayed genuine surprise and remorse. "I didn't look at the time, I honestly had no idea it was that late."
"Late?" I rolled over, the phone still pressed to my ear. I couldn't keep my eyes open as I spoke, drifting halfway between consciousness and sleep. My voice was barely a mumble. "Have you not gone to bed yet?"
"I was going to. But I was distracted by quality literature and couldn't stop until I'd finished it, Valerie. I'm a scholar, an academic!"
I didn't deign that with a response. His enthusiasm and wakefulness made me want to punch him, except that I would prefer to languish beneath my warm covers asleep than go to the effort of violence.
Jamie sighed. "Fine, Izzy left one of her glorified porno books at my place and I read it so that I can make fun of her and her terrible taste." He paused, as if waiting for me to make fun of him. I was too tired to do anything but mumble something half-hearted and unintelligible. He sighed. "Okay, fine, it's called Living With Boys and it's a published Wattpad novel and I wanted to know which of the boys she would be fucking. Sue me."
I groaned my tiredness into the phone. "Jame, I love you, truly, but stop being horny and go the fuck to sleep. I can make tomorrow work, but get back to me in 8 hours after you've slept a full night, and we can discuss plans then."
"I wasn't horny, I am a connoisseur of tasteful erotic literature."
"Okay."
"No, seriously. It was an academic pursuit. Investigative science. A product of a curious mind with an interest in exploring all genres of the written word."
"Go to sleep, Jameson."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Valerie."
A respectable nine hours later, Jameson pulled up in front of my house. He was seated at the wheel of some sort of BMW monstrosity that no eighteen-year-old had any business in driving, looking like a cologne model, with sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his hair windswept and casual in the kind of way that only an expensive haircut and even more expensive shampoo seemed to achieve.
Mum's spoon paused on the way to her mouth, and she rose from her seat, looking a little dazed. "Is that a BMW?"
I peered through the window. "I think so."
"Do you think it would damage your relationship with your new friends if I stole his car?"
I shrugged. "He probably has another one. I say go for it."
Mum looked longingly at Jamie's car as he stepped out of it, waving enthusiastically at our faces in the window.
She turned to me with a disbelieving frown. "Why do you suddenly have an ever-revolving door of hot people coming to our house?"
"Jamie is one of Kai's friends." I turned away from the window to gather the meagre pile of things Jamie had instructed me to bring on our 'adventure'. At Mum's pointed look, I said, "It's not like that with Jamie. I promise. We're just friends. Also, stop calling eighteen-year-olds hot, you're too old for that."
"Not for me," Mum said. "For you. They're objectively hot people. And I want pretty grandchildren—" at my frown, she added, "—though I promise to love them even if they are uggos."
"Thanks, I think," I said, as Jameson rapped twice on the front door; a businessman's knock. I pointed toward the entryway. "I'm going to get that, try not to be weird, m'kay?"
Mum pulled a decidedly weird face, and I shot her a warning look as I opened the front door.
Jameson was leaning against the doorframe in some approximation of casualness, but his fingers tapped a frenetic pattern against the expensive material of his tailored pants. His outfit wasn't over-the-top—simple pants and a t-shirt—but it was evident from the soft fabric and the carefully selected colours that brought out the green in his eyes, and the perfect way it sat on the contour of his body that the outfit was expensive. Designer, and most likely selected by a wardrobe expert.
I waved him in, and he unstuck himself from the wall and strolled through the entryway as if he owned it, which, to be fair, he could probably afford to. That walk wasn't coached, I didn't think, but it could've been; it so effortlessly told the entire story of Jameson Miller's life—the story he wanted to tell—in just a single arrogant, charming swagger.
"Hey," I said, with the friendly awkwardness of inviting a new friend to your house for the first time.
Jamie's lips quirked. "Hey." He tweaked my hair affectionately, before turning to Mum with a broad smile that seemed trained; charming, effortless, million-dollar. "And good morning, thank you for having me. You have a really nice home, and a passably nice daughter. I'm Jameson, Valerie's best friend."
Mum looked to me quickly, with a look that was equal parts charmed and what the fuck is this guy? But she grinned at Jamie and said, "Thank you for being Valerie's best friend; you don't actually have particularly big shoes to fill. Just don't sleep with Kai and you should be all good."
"Have you seen that guy?" said Jameson. "He's gorgeous. There's no way I could manage not to."
Mum laughed. Jameson looked pleased with himself.
"Don't encourage him, Mum," I implored.
"But he's an amusing little thing," she said, as a person who stood at least six inches shorter than Jameson. "He's my favourite. I think I like him more than I like you."
"Oh, stop it," I said, disgruntled. I grabbed Jamie by the ear—like he deserved—and tugged him toward the front door. He made a faint noise of protest, and I let go of his ear and grabbed his wrist instead; dragging proved equally as effective. "Goodbye, Mum. I'll text you."
Jamie waved his goodbye, and I pulled him from my house and finally released him to hop down the front steps. Mum and I lived in a nice double-storey that wasn't particularly fancy, but definitely far too large for a family of two. Jameson didn't blink at the size in the way that Kai had; instead, to him, it probably seemed like a quaint cottage. Which, compared to his estate, it was.
I didn't even feel self-conscious about it, because while wealth exuded from Jamie, he didn't even seem to notice it. It was as if everyone knew he was wealthy except for himself, although logically he must be aware of it. He drove a BMW for crying out loud.
Jameson followed me leisurely down the steps, unlocking the BWM with his key. The car was easily the nicest I'd seen, especially for an 18-year-old, and especially compared to Kai's beat-up truck. The interior was fully decked-out, with more buttons than I'd even know what to do with. Jameson got into the passenger seat with a practised grace that seemed ridiculous because, hello, BWM.
"I can't believe your parents got you this car," I said, scraping a reverent hand along the dash.
Jamie snorted and pushed the automatic engine button. "Then you haven't met them." I raised an eyebrow, and Jamie sighed. "Let's just say, I asked for something simple for my eighteenth birthday. They bought me a BMW. I can hardly complain."
Before I could open my mouth to respond, he was already pulling out of the driveway.
The neighbourhood wasn't as flashy as Jameson's, but the cute collection of houses and suburban feel was home. Jamie drove with a sort of practised disinterest; not as if he wasn't watching the road, but as if he wanted you to think he wasn't. One hand on the wheel, eyes flicking languidly toward you, pointing out landmarks on the side of the road, as if to highlight how much captured his attention other than driving. And he talked, incessantly.
"Jamie," I said abruptly, interrupting his tirade about the inconvenience of letterboxes.
He stopped talking abruptly, but something nervous settled into the tense of his shoulders. He didn't look at me directly-eyes focussed on the road ahead—as he responded. "Yeah?"
"I want you to know that I'm so glad you called me," I said. "But I have to admit I was surprised at the urgency. Is everything okay?"
Jameson shrugged. "Kai, Izzy and Will are in Casserine and Seb is mad at me. I was starting to run out of friends."
This, I knew, wasn't true. Jameson had more friends than the rest of us combined, and had the uncanny ability to make them if he ever did run out. But I wasn't going to contradict Jamie; if he wanted to spend time with me, it was a privilege, and I wasn't going to question my blessings. So instead I said, "Why is Seb mad at you?"
"I told him not to go out with David Hillshore, because David Hillshore is a pretentious dickwad with the personality of a soggy lettuce." Jamie rolled his eyes. "Apparently, I am also a pretentious dickwad, except I have the personality of one of those big cats that are chronically lazy and yet always snappy or something. I don't know, it made sense when he said it."
"So, did you apologise?"
"I asked him if I was sexy big cat, like Simba in The Lion King."
"That was a terrible idea."
"Yeah, well, that's why he's mad at me."
I shook my head. "David Hillshore isn't even an asshole. And he's hot."
Jamie wrinkled his nose in disgust. "David Hillshore is okay looking at best. Every single one of our friends is objectively hotter." This, I could admit, was true. But we just had decent-looking friends. "Besides, being attractive on a completely subpar level doesn't excuse the fact that he once laughed at me when I said Legally Blonde was my favourite movie."
"Oh, my god. That's unforgiveable. We might have to lock Seb in his house for his own good. What if he went on a date with a guy who isn't a fan of Legally Blonde?"
Jameson took his eyes momentarily off the road to frown at me. "It's a good fucking movie. Seb should go out with someone who has taste. It's called being a good friend, Valerie."
I grinned at him and poked his arm, and he slid one hand off the wheel to bat my own away. "Aw, I see why you wanted to hang out with me," I crooned. "You're mad that your bestie picked a guy over you."
Ignoring the fact that he had called me at 5AM, barely coherent of the time. But Jameson hadn't acknowledged it, and so I would either. It wasn't my place; that role belonged to Seb and Kai and Will. And Jameson didn't seem like the kind to delve into his problems without the mask of about fifty jokes between his words and the truth.
And it was reassuring to see his smiling protest. "Bros before hoes, Valerie. But obviously I'd rather being hanging out with you anyway, because you are my new favourite."
I raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"Because you're the only one of our friends who is as funny as me."
"God, you're rating my sense of humour on your level? That's very off-putting, but thank you for giving me the opportunity to work on myself."
"That." Jamie jabbed his finger in my direction. "That is why you're my new favourite."
I laughed, and settled back into the plush leather seat of Jamie's passenger seat. Jameson was fun, and easy to be around. Not the same comfort that I felt with Kai, who made my pulse race and filled me with a sense of rightness, but the kind of simple pleasure that came with finding a person who you inexplicably clicked with.
The car windows were down, the wind running cool fingers through the length of my hair. Jamie had pulled out from my street onto Beach Road, and over through the window on his side, I could see the expanse of bay glittering in the morning sun; lycra-clad women with coffee cups walking along the sand, kids running into the water squealing. I didn't bother asking where we were going, or what we were doing, but Jamie seemed content and intent.
"So," Jamie asked, with a waggle of his eyebrows. "How are things with Delaney?"
How were things with Kai? Well. Fake, but good. Or at least they had been, until Maria had somehow thrown a wrench into a relationship that didn't exist. "I don't know," I said casually. "I haven't spoken to him since Friday."
"I know, he told me."
I gaped. "He what?"
Jamie's grin was knowing. "He might've mentioned something."
I whacked Jameson's arm. "This is why you wanted to see me today, you ass. You're such a gossip whore."
"XOXO, baby," said Jameson gleefully. "You know you love me."
"I fucking hate you, tell me everything."
Even though this was supposed to be for show—the smitten girl in a situationship desperate to know anything her prospective paramour had to say about her—my heart was fluttering in my chest. I was desperate to know what Kai had said to Jameson. Was it part of the ruse? Or was he actually thinking about me?
"Our infatuated friend might've said something about being desperate to text you," Jameson said, teasing. My blood pulsed into overdrive. "Something about feeling bad about Thursday and not knowing exactly what to say. Maybe there was some pathetic platitudes in there about missing you and hoping you'd reach out. Who is to say? Not me, I would never divulge my private conversations."
"He misses me?" I said, breathless and unsure if it was for show or if my voice had just deserted me. God, Kai was good at the game. Or maybe, just maybe, he missed me as much as I missed him. At least he didn't not want to speak to me; he was embarrassed and unsure, not done with me. It was a relief I hadn't known I needed. "He wants me to reach out?"
Jamie gasped. "He does? That's so exciting, who told you that? But also, you should totally call him." He winked at me.
Call him? Was that too... clingy? I was only his fake girlfriend, and even in the realm of our reality, that was not an official situation yet. But if it was real; if I'd started talking to Kai because we met through Cora, what would I do? If he'd looked after me at a party, and I'd called him the next day to say thank you, and somehow electric chemistry encouraged a texting conversation that spanned days and weeks and months. If we'd made out at a party, and flirted in public, never defining the relationship but certain it was something, would I call him right now at Jameson's encouragement?
Yeah, I'd fucking call him.
"Okay, I'm going to call him," I said, ignoring the curdle of trepidation in my gut.
"Awesome, put it on speaker. I want to eavesdrop."
I made a face at him, but when I tapped on Kai's number—saved under Sexy McHot Pants, much to Jamie's amusement—I obliged Jameson's pleading eyes and tapped the speaker mode. Jameson wiggled with excitement in his seat, and even though I pointed to his never-still ass mockingly, I was resisting the urge to do the same.
The ringer pulsed once, twice, timed to the metronome of my heart and Jameson's twerking ass, even as he searched for a parking space; clearly, he wanted to devote all of his attention to eavesdropping.
"Little Valerie?" came Kai's voice, and it was filled with all the relief that blew up my chest like a helium balloon. His voice softened. "Hey."
"Hey, how are you? I haven't really spoken to you since Thursday."
Jamie grimaced at the question, cutting a hand across his throat. Cut the line of questioning, chief.
"Yeah, sorry, that was a weird day," Kai said, as if he were describing an unseasonable rain pattern. "But I get to talk to you now."
"Uh-huh," I said with forced casualness. We were both silent for a moment, and I told myself it was because I was distracted by Jamie as he parallel parked in front of one of the Beach Road Parkdale mansions. "Um, how's Casserine?"
"It's nice," Kai said, seizing the new topic of conversation with eager hands. "I've been helping Zach with some wedding stuff. Suit fitting, and all that."
"Well," I said lightly. "You'll look hot in a suit. How will all the women cope? You'll have to beat them off you."
Kai was quiet for only moment, before his voice crackled through the phone again, warm. "Well, I hope you're still willing to play bodyguard, even if I am a jerk who hasn't called you in a few days? I can't beat women off me, and I get the feeling you'd be lethal in heels."
Jameson fist pumped the air. I hadn't forgotten about the wedding, the date we were due to make our debut as an official couple. But no one other than us knew about it, and if Kai was telling Jamie, he was telling everyone. And really, going to a wedding together sounded pretty official, without the couples announcement. I cleared my throat, and I hoped the flirtatious note in my voice hid the strain of shock beneath it. "Only if you're prepared to beat the guys off me. I look great in a dress."
"I'd feel a lot better about beating up dudes. I guess I'll have to invest in some deadly footwear too."
"I have a pink dress, so I hope you have hot-pink pumps to match."
"What a coincidence, I have heaps of those. Wedge heel or stiletto?"
"Depends, in defending my honour, were you hoping to pierce a ballsack or stomp on some toes?"
"I could just wear two different shoes; gotta be prepared to see what inspiration strikes me in the moment."
"Ouch," I said. "Vicious."
"Always," said Kai. In the background, I heard the faint rasp of another male voice, interlaced with Isabelle's louder interjection. Kai yelled something intelligible back, and when his voice returned, it was with a certain amount of sorrow. "I've been called for duty. But I'm... thank you for calling."
"Anytime."
"I'm back this afternoon for work?" said Kai, and it was almost a question. "I mean, once you and Jamie are done with hanging out and eavesdropping? I finish work at 8, if you wanted to stop by?"
I glanced up at Jamie, who was mouthing, I'm not eavesdropping at me as he bent closer to the phone so that he could hear Kai. But even Jameson's antics couldn't distract me from the pleasure diffusing through my chest; Kai wanted to see me, and even if it was for my scheming, I was excited enough that it didn't matter.
I knew Kai could hear the smile in my voice when I responded. "I don't know what you're talking about in regards to eavesdropping and this Jamie character. I've never even met a Jameson Miller—" Jamie gave me the finger, and Kai laughed. "—but I'll stop by your work at 8."
"Cool." Kai was smiling too; I could hear it, and it widened the curve of my own grin. "Well, I think Izzy will chop my balls off if I don't leave now."
"We wouldn't want that," I said.
"Definitely not," said Kai. He was chuckling, and the sound—me making him laugh—was the new soundtrack underpinning the best moments of my day. "I'll see you tonight, Little Valerie. Goodbye, Jamie."
I said—"Who is Jamie we don't know him I don't know what you're talking about—"and hung up."
Well. That went well. One phone call, barely three minutes in total, and yet it felt like my entire day had been rearranged—completely hinged upon—those three minutes. From insecure and unsure and confused to fucking elated.
"Well," said Jameson, and that stupid ass of his was wiggling again. "That started painful, and ended up sexy and painful. As all interactions should go."
"Stop being a perv and take me out to lunch, Miller. I'm starving."
"I know what you're starving for," Jameson said under his breath, as he took the car out of park. I raised my hand threateningly, and he laughed hastily. "A delicious lunch paid for by me! That's what I meant. Can't wait."
I couldn't even pretend to be mad at him. I was too fucking happy, and I decided not to consider the fact that a fake relationship was making me happier than I'd ever been in my real one.