DAVE

How would having the most sought-after girl in your corner make you feel? Great, right? Like you’ve hit some kind of rare jackpot? I mean, that’s what everyone else would say. The stares, the envy, the respect, and even the fingers that follow you around whenever you walk around with her— it’s supposed to feel good. It’s supposed to make you proud, and even boost your ego a bit.

But that’s for other people. For me, it didn’t feel good. Not even a little.

Being with the most sought-after girl didn’t make me feel special or lucky. If anything, it felt suffocating and exhausting. She didn’t feel like a partner or even someone I cared about. She felt like… another girl. Another girl to pass the time with, another girl to use until the novelty wore off. Or even, another to have a mind-blowing threesome with. Someone I could show off if I wanted to, but deep down, I didn’t even want to. She was just… there, I am not sorry to say.

I know how that sounds, trust me, but I’m being honest here. Maybe that’s why I never even cared to ask: Is it a rule that all the most sought-after girls love being noticed? Is it written in some handbook I missed out on? Because if it is, then Kate definitely read it cover to cover.

Kate wasn’t just clingy, she was more than a leech. I mean, I couldn’t breathe without her wanting to be right there. If I went to class, she was waiting outside for me. If I said I was meeting up with the guys, she’d suddenly have a “reason” to stop by. It was like being attached to someone with no escape route.

She wanted me to follow her everywhere. Like, every fucking where. The mall, her friend’s house then go back, the cafeteria, even places where I was sure I had no business being. I kept wondering, is this normal? Do people in relationships do this? Or was it just me, totally unprepared and thrown into the deep ocean without a life jacket? Nobody gave me the memo, no warning or orientation ahead of time. If this was what relationships were like, I was pretty sure I’d collapse under the weight of it, like I’d rather want to go to jail than do this.

It wasn’t just the constant attachment, though. It was the way she paraded me around like some sort of trophy. I could feel it, her whole vibe screamed, “Look at what I’ve got. Back off, girls.” It was as if she wanted every other girl to know I was taken, like some off-limits competition where she had to flaunt her win.

Speak of the devil.

I was standing there, minding my business, when she walked up to me like she has been doing. Her steps were confident, her shoe heels clicking against the pavement, and before I could say anything, she threw her arms around me in this over-the-top hug. She pressed herself against me, her lips landing on my chest like she’d done it a million times in less than a month.

Don’t get me wrong, Kate’s very hot. She’s got this body that most girls would kill for. Big boobs, big ass, and a ridiculously slim waist, that looked too perfect to be real. She’s what people like to call slim thick, that perfect balance of curvy and toned that has every guy turning his head when she walks by. Her hair always looks perfect, her makeup on point, and she dresses like she just stepped out of some Instagram fashion reel. Not to forget, her parents were so rich. She was like those kids that go to their parents’ beach house, private jet, and the like.

But even with all of that, her looks, riches, and confidence, something didn't sit well with me.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” she said, looking up at me with those big, doe-like eyes.

I managed a small smile, trying not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure, Kate.”

She pouted, a playful, exaggerated expression that I’m sure worked wonders on other guys. “Babe,” she said with a baby’s voice. “You’re so cold sometimes, you know that and I don't like it?” she said spoiling her mouth in what others would consider funny, but to me, it was too childish.

“It’s not that,” I replied, pulling away slightly, but not enough to offend her. “I’m just… thinking.”

She tilted her head, still clinging to me. “About what?”

I hesitated. How was I supposed to tell her that she was driving me insane? That the constant attention, the possessiveness, and the way she seemed to want to mark her territory, was all too much.

“Just stuff,” I said vaguely, hoping she’d let it go.

But of course, she didn’t.

“Come on,” she whined, leaning in closer. “You can tell me anything. We’re partners, remember?”

Partners. That’s what she called a relationship of barely two days. But it didn’t feel like a partnership to me. It felt like I was being dragged along in some competition I never signed up for, with her playing both the coach and the star player.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Kate, don’t you think we’re moving a little… fast?”

Her face fell, just for a split second, before she recovered with a forced laugh. “Fast? What do you mean? We’re perfect together.”

Perfect. There it was again. That word she loved so much. Perfect this, perfect that. Perfect relationship, perfect couple. But nothing about it felt perfect to me. It felt like I was being smothered under the weight of her expectations, and her constant need for attention and validation.

“Yes, we are,” I answered her faking a smile.

“Babe, I told your sister about us and she was so happy for us!” Kate’s voice was chipper, a wide grin stretched across her face as she’d just delivered the best news ever.

I froze for a second, her words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “You did what?” I asked, my voice flat, though I could already feel the irritation bubbling inside me.

“I told your sister,” she repeated, completely oblivious to the shift in my tone. “She was really happy for us!”

I narrowed my eyes, my annoyance now impossible to hide. “Wow… And why exactly would she be happy for us?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Her smile faltered for the first time, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, tilting her head like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

I wanted to say it outright. Who told you to go and tell my sister? Who even permitted you to announce our relationship like it’s breaking news? But instead, I bit back the truth, forcing a fake smile onto my face.

“I meant, of course, she’d be happy for us,” I said, my tone suddenly light and sweet— too sweet. “Her brother’s dating the finest girl in school.”

Kate’s face lit up again, the doubt wiped away in an instant. She practically glowed at the compliment, her cute smile returning with even more passion. I could tell that was exactly what she wanted to hear.

“You’re so sweet,” she gushed, grabbing onto my arm. “Don’t be late for the party, okay? I want everyone to see how perfect we are together.”

I nodded stiffly, already regretting the words that had just come out of my mouth. She leaned in on her tiptoes, aiming to plant a kiss on my lips. But instead, I turned my face just slightly, enough for her lips to land awkwardly on my cheek.

“Oh,” she said, pulling back, her smile faltering again. She gave me a quick laugh, probably assuming I was just being playful. “You’re such a tease!”

I didn’t correct her.

As I walked away, her chirpy “Don’t be late!” rang out behind me, sticking in my ears like an annoying tune I couldn’t get rid of.

When I finally got home, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Exhaustion settled into my bones, my shoulders heavy as I tossed my bag onto the couch and flopped down on the bed. The day had been draining enough on its own, but the added need to keep up with Kate was starting to wear me down.

But of course, there was no rest for the weary. It was her party tonight and I was expected to be there, had to be there, actually. After all, what was a queen without her king?

I sighed, dragging myself up from the chair. A part of me wanted to just stay home, to ditch the whole thing and let her deal with the fallout. But I knew better than that. If I didn’t show up, there’d be hell to pay, and honestly, I didn’t have the energy to deal with Kate’s dramatics.

I trudged to my room, kicking off my shoes and shrugging out of my jacket. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye, and I paused for a moment, staring at the guy looking back at me. He looked tired, I looked tired. The dark circles under my eyes, the tension in my jaw, the way my shoulders slumped— it was all a clear sign that I was running on dry blood.

But tonight wasn’t about me. It was about her.

I slipped into my ash baggy jeans, the kind that hung perfectly on my hips without looking sloppy. I threw on a white baseball round-neck shirt, its simplicity accented by the sharp gold chain I draped around my neck. My black leather wristwatch added a touch of sharpness, its polished face catching the light as I adjusted the strap. I ran my hands through my hair to tame the mess before spritzing on some cologne.

I topped it all off with an ash baseball cap that sat low on my head, shadowing my eyes just enough to give me that cute, and bad boy look. My black Timberland boots completed the outfit, each step in them feeling grounded and intentional. My shoulder crossbody bag slung casually at my side carried the essentials, though it was more of an accessory to complete the laid-back but deliberate vibe I was going for.

By the time I was done, I stood in front of the mirror, satisfied with my look. I brought out my phone and took some bad boy pictures. I raised my shirt, exposing ‘my you can’t see and not fall in love’ outlined abs, every girl’s dream of their perfect man. Bringing the phone just enough to cover my face, and I took several dope mirror shots. Something I’d be needing very soon.

When I arrived at the party, the music was already pounding through the walls, loud enough to feel the bass in my chest. I pushed the door open, the smell of sweat, perfume, and cheap cologne hitting me in waves. The place was packed, bodies pressed together, some swaying to the music, others mingling in tight clusters. Of course, who wouldn't want to cliche on the top girl of the school? So it's understandable. But as I stepped inside, my head turned.

What the hell? Why was everyone staring? My stomach tightened for a moment, and my first thought was, Did I overdress? I glanced down at myself as casually as I could, the gold chain catching the light just right. Was I overdressed, or was I just that magnetic? Either way, the stares made me feel like a spotlight had been thrown on me, and I didn’t like it. Like a Vogue magazine

I hovered near the doorway, scanning the sea of faces for Kate. The music thumped in the background, people brushed past me, and still, no sign of her. I was just about to give up and call her when I caught sight of her.

She was walking toward me like some gorgeous runway model, her kneel-length boots clicking against the floor with every step. She wore a mini skirt that barely skimmed her thighs and a crop top so tight it looked like it might burst. It revealed just enough cleavage to make several heads turn, and I knew. I knew there was no bra under that top. Kate didn’t need one, anyway.

As she got closer, my head started spinning and my eyes were already imagining things. Not from the music, not from the stares, but from the flood of memories that rushed in without warning. Suddenly, I wasn’t seeing Kate. I was seeing her, my sister. My mind blurred, mixing the present and the past, twisting Kate into someone she wasn’t.

Holy shit!

My thoughts flew. What if I stepped closer, closing the gap between us and I just slipped my hands under that miniskirt letting my hands roam freely, exploring every curve she had to offer? Or what if I just tore her panties away, I’d slowly lift her skirt, sliding up her thighs to expose her softness, the kind of temptation that begged to be claimed. My fingers would graze her skin, firm yet gentle, before slipping lower, finding her warmth as her breath hitched ever so slightly.

Then, I’d raise her top, revealing the swell of her breasts, perfectly shaped for my hands to mold and caress. My palms would press against her flesh, kneading softly before I leaned in, my lips capturing one of her sensitive nipples and my other hand pressing hard on her other nipple. I could picture the way it would harden against my tongue as I sucked, her body arching toward me instinctively, craving more.

I’d pin her hands above her head, locking her in place against the wall, leaving her completely exposed, vulnerable, and utterly mine at that moment. Her submission would feed my hunger, her willingness fueling the fire burning within me. With our shadows dancing on the wall of the dim light around us, I am sure you could already imagine how primal our reflection was going to be.

Stop! I bit my bottom lip hard, so hard that I tasted blood trying to pull myself out of it, yet pushing me further into the depths of my imagination.

“Babe! Babe!!” Her voice broke through the fog. I blinked, shaking my head as if to clear it.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, forcing myself to meet her gaze.

She stepped closer, her hand cupping my face gently. Her palm was soft, warm, and grounding. “Are you okay? I’ve been calling you,” she said, her voice tinged with concern.

“I didn’t realize,” I mumbled, clearing my throat. “I was looking for you. I was just about to call you.”

She smiled at that, taking my hand in hers. “Well, don’t worry. I’m here now.” Her fingers intertwined with mine, and she gave a playful tug. “Let’s go.”

I followed her into the crowd, her hand warm in mine. The way she held on like she was afraid to let go, was perfect for anyone else. For me? It just felt like all these perfect moments were wasted on the wrong person.

She turned to me as we walked, her eyes sparkling under the party lights. “You look good, by the way. I didn’t know you were such a fashionista,” she said, teasing but clearly impressed.

I shrugged. “Thanks. You look good too.”

“Let’s take a selfie,” she said suddenly, already pulling out her phone.

“Wait—” I started to protest, but before I could even finish, I heard the shutter sound of her camera.

“Please delete that,” I said, my voice firm.

She laughed lightly, brushing me off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to post it,” she said, though the mischievous glint in her eyes didn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

Even though she promised not to share it, the idea of her having that photo on her phone didn’t sit right with me. I could’ve pushed harder and demanded she delete it on the spot, but that would’ve only made me look like the bad guy. So I let it slide, for now.

Just when I thought I could relax, she leaned closer, her voice low and hurried. “They’re coming. Kiss me so they’ll see us.” She grabbed my hand, her grip tightening as she glanced toward a group of girls approaching us.

I didn’t even bother answering. Instead, I pulled my hand away and said, “Let me go get us another drink.”

Her face fell, her disappointment clear even as she tried to hide it. I caught the flicker of hurt in her eyes, but I didn’t care. She wanted to use me to make some grand statement, but that wasn’t how this worked. I made the rules. She followed. This wasn’t her stage; it was mine.

As I walked away, I glanced back briefly, catching her staring after me. Her face was a mix of longing and frustration, but I didn’t give it a second thought. If she wanted to play games, she’d have to play by my rules.

After all, this was my kingdom. And in my kingdom, I ruled.