Desire (wlw)

I.

Isabel

There she is. Walking up to the counter of this coffee shop like she owns the damn place. Even the barista looks nervous handing her the stupid latte. Little Miss Perfect.

That's what I call her in my head.

Lea Greene. The girl who can walk into a room and turn everyone's heads without even trying. Flawless hair, flawless voice, flawless life. It's infuriating. Everyone loves her, and I don't know how she does it—always smiling, always laughing like she has nothing to worry about. Like she doesn't have a single care in the world.

I hate how she glides through life, like everything's been handed to her on a silver platter. I hate that even after all these years, all those stupid competitions, she's still at the top. And most of all, I hate that every time I see her, there's this tight knot in my chest.

We used to be inseparable—Lea and me. We'd stay up late at each other's houses, making up ridiculous dance routines, belting out songs, pretending like we'd take over the world together. Suddenly, everything became a contest. Who could get the better role, the better grade, the better everything. And Lea? She won. Every. Single. Time.

And the worst part? She doesn't even have to try. I see her out there, effortlessly charming everyone, pulling those little "woe-is-me" smiles that make everyone want to fall at her feet. She sings a note, and suddenly, she's the star. She's always been the star.

It makes me sick.

She acts like she's better than me. Like she doesn't care about this whole competition. But she does. I see it in her eyes when we're forced to share the same space. She doesn't say it, but she enjoys it, knowing she's always one step ahead. That I'll always be chasing after her, and never quite reaching her. And that smile—God, that smile. The one that she's flashed at me a million times over the years. That same smile I used to love, I now want to slap off her face.

"Earth to Isabel." Gio waves a hand in front of my face, and I blink, realizing we're at Bean, the campus coffee shop, waiting for our drinks. Definitely not the time to be lost in my head. "Yeah, sorry," I mumble, turning to face him. He had this amused look all over his face, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking about.

Ten years ago, just when I thought I had no one left that actually gave a shit about me, a little boy with ash brown hair, a black worn-out Spiderman shirt and cowlicks sticking out in every direction on his scalp slid under the bleachers that I just so happened to be hiding under as well. He held a finger up to his lips and we stayed quiet for a few moments, until I heard the sound of a group of older boys running past us. They were confused, the sound of footsteps circling around the gym echoing. Eventually, the footsteps faded away as the boys left, taking interest in the basketball courts outside instead. I looked over at the boy who had a grateful smile spread across his face. We'd been best friends ever since.

He's always been the one constant in my life, the one person who gets me without judgment. When I started dancing, Gio was the one who showed up to every rehearsal, cheered me on, and didn't care that my parents barely acknowledged my efforts. He's always had my back, through every tear and tantrum, through every stupid fight with Lea And maybe that's why I've kept Gio so close—he doesn't ask the hard questions. He doesn't push me to admit why I hate Lea so much, why my anger runs so deep it feels like a second heartbeat. Because even I can't face the truth about it.

My name is called next, followed by Gio's. I peel myself off the wall I was leaning on and make my way through the crowd of people waiting for their orders.

"So, Summer Showcase pairings come out today," he says casually, stirring his iced coffee as we walk toward the exit.

"Yeah, I know," I mutter, taking a sip of my drink and grimacing. It's too sweet, but I'm too distracted to give a shit. "I'm not exactly excited about it."