Like Nobody's Watching

2a: in which adrien's chat noir is glaringly obvious

"Adrien, you oka - oh god."

Plagg slouches in, all shaggy dark hair and black clothes, and I barely notice. I'm flopped on my bed on my back, one arm flung over my eyes, still in my Chat Noir clothes, giggling. "Adrien, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"She was so pretty," I sigh, recalling the face and the body and the moves of my opponent - my partner, now. My phone is on my stomach, and it burns with the weight of the new contact.

We're gonna need practice together, she told me. I'll contact you when I'm free, alright?

The name input simply reads LB.

"She was so good," I gush. "Did you see her?"

"Yes, Adrien, I was there," Plagg groans. "Have you considered what will happen if Nathalie finds you dressed like that? Or our father?"

That snaps me out of my reverie; our father cannot know. I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower nozzle, stripping out of my dance clothes. Cautiously, I remove the contact lenses that tint my already green eyes even greener, emeraldizing the whites as well, set them away, and step into a steaming hot spray of water. It seeps into my skin, threading through my muscles and untying the knots worked into my being. Visions spiral before my eyes: Ladybug, her dance, her eyes, her smile, her hair, her everything. It makes me dizzy to think of her - but that could just be the scalding water. I take a washcloth and scrub the smoky black paint from my face. 

When I step out, wearing only boxers and toweling off my thick hair, my brother is gone. But when I pick up my cell phone, it glows with a message update. 

1 new message 

FROM: LB: hey chat. so i have dance tomorrow at the mer studio de danse des oiseaux, but i'll be free around 8 pm. can you swing by then so we can work on a routine?

My cheeks flare even redder, my face burning with the fire of a thousand suns. I check my schedule, hoping, praying that I'll be free then. My color-coded schedule shows a block of white from 7:45 on, and I jump for joy. Then I realize that she sent the message seven whole minutes ago, and I scramble to respond. 

TO: LB: why, hello again, milady. didn't expect to be hearing from you so soon ;)

TO: LB: and to answer your question, yes, i will be there. you can count on it, my lady. 

When I pack my duffel bag for the dance studio, i carefully hide my Chat Noir costume, contact lenses, and facepaint under my clothes. My father calls to me from the top of the imposing marble staircase descending into the foyer as I rush to the car. 

"Adrien, what is this I hear about you staying late at the studio tonight?" I've already plotted my response to this; my father can always tell when I'm lying, so I have to tell him non-incriminating truths. 

"We're starting partner dances in class, so I'm staying to work with my partner. We have to write and learn a routine that we'll perform later," I tell him. This is true, only it won't be my assigned partner I dance with. 

"Who is this partner?" he asks coldly. 

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "They haven't chosen them yet." We haven't, but at the same time I have no idea who Ladybug really is. "I'll let you know when I find out, okay?" 

"Very well," he says. Then, as I leave, I hear him call, "I am pleased that you are so dedicated to your work. It makes me very proud." The little backhanded compliment makes me smile as I bolt out the door and into the car. 

When I arrive at the studio, I quickly change into my hip-hop clothes before rushing into class, skidding and sliding in next to Nino just as Miss Bustier calls roll. "Dude, wanna go hang out later?" he whispers, giving me a fist bump.