Coffee and Cream

His Ladybug

                                                                                         EMRYS

I dropped Darcelle off at her place so she could change for school and grab whatever she needed. No one from school stayed in her area, so there was no need to worry about anyone seeing us together, but the habit of keeping things discreet was ingrained in me.

I couldn't have her showing up wearing my clothes—that would raise too many questions, and our school was full of busybodies, nosy as hell. Wealth always brings a certain kind of attention, and Darcelle wasn't exactly the type to attract it on her own, not in the way Isabelle or I did. Wearing designer pieces would've been like wearing a neon sign—too obvious.

I dialed Isabelle. It was time to smooth things over and put on the performance she needed from me.

"Hey, baby," I began, sliding into the role effortlessly. "I'm sorry about missing your show. I'll be at the next one. I promise."

I didn't mean a word of it. I couldn't care less about her petty concerts or the drama that came with them, but I knew exactly what to say.

Her voice brightened on the other end, relief seeping through. "Oh, sugar bear, I was worried we were still fighting. I shouldn't have pushed you."

She lapped it up like a hungry puppy, the sincerity I rehearsed landing perfectly. I pulled out the classics, wrapping an arm around her waist in my mind as I whispered into the phone, "I love you." It was easy—mechanical almost, but it did the job. She needed to hear those words. The fact that I didn't feel an ounce of what they were supposed to mean was irrelevant.

She responded loudly, almost theatrically, her words pitched just enough so anyone nearby could hear, "I love you too!" The power couple was back, her reign re-secured. Isabelle loved the optics, loved the idea of being with me more than the actual me. And that worked for me. Her whole world revolved around making sure every girl knew I was hers. What she didn't know was that my real affection, the part of me that wasn't entirely fake, was with someone she didn't even consider a threat.

Darcelle.

Isabelle scoffed at her whenever she saw her in the halls. "She's such a virgin," she'd sneer, eyes narrowed in disapproval, unable to grasp why someone like Mal would even look her way. "It's probably just her body. Once he gets what he wants, he'll move on."

I'd laugh along, but it pissed me off. She didn't get it, couldn't comprehend what Darcelle had that she didn't. Darcelle was different—real. She wasn't like the rest of these shallow people chasing clout and status. She could keep up with me, both in conversation and in bed, and that was something Isabelle would never understand.

Later that afternoon, I saw Mal with Darcelle and Nathan as they were leaving the campus. His arm slung around her shoulder like he owned the place, and that smile—the one she used to save for Nathan—was now being directed at Mal. It grated on me, seeing her smile like that for someone else. Before Mal, that smile was mine. Nathan didn't even know it, but he wasn't competition. Mal, though—Mal had become a problem.

I'd been keeping tabs on him. Knew his schedule, where he hung out, even where he lived. It wasn't hard; people like him don't hide well, not from someone like me. I watched as Mal offered them a ride, and as Nathan and Darcelle climbed into his car, I clenched my jaw. I hated it. But I'd play the long game. I always do.

Slipping a cigarette between my lips, I lit it and leaned against a wall, watching as they drove off. Isabelle came running toward me, oblivious, and I caught her mid-air as she jumped into my arms. "You're light as a feather," I said, the words automatic, my lips pressing perfunctory kisses to her cheeks. She giggled, eating up the attention while one of her friends groaned.