Imperfect Substitute

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Everyone at school knew I was Shane Sinclair's lapdog.

But no matter how contemptuously Shane Sinclair treated me, I never left his side.

That is, until a basketball game where Shane Sinclair got a cut on his cheek.

I frowned as I got to my feet. 'A replacement I worked so hard to find. What a pity.'

1

Shane Sinclair called me in the middle of the night, telling me to bring something to a hotel near campus.

He sounded frantic, rushing me three times in a single sentence.

I didn't have time to change, just throwing a heavy coat on in the dead of winter before heading out.

I stopped by a convenience store to buy what he needed, then jogged the rest of the way to the hotel he'd mentioned.

But before I even made it inside, I saw Shane Sinclair standing by the entrance from a distance, a girl in his arms.

"Hahaha, see? I told you she'd come!" Spotting me running up, Shane Sinclair gloated to the people around him.

The smile on his face was particularly jarring. A faint blush crept up beneath his eyes, a clear sign he'd been drinking again.

Whenever he drank too much, his usually sharp features would soften unexpectedly.

I found myself staring, lost in a daze for a moment. By the time I snapped out of it, one of the friends standing next to him had already started talking.

"Damn, you were right. But seriously, man, aside from your pretty face, what else have you got going for you? How'd you get this girl so wrapped around your finger she'd even buy *that kind of stuff* for you?"

That kind of stuff.

The unspoken-of items were clutched in my hand right now.

The girl in Shane Sinclair's arms blushed and burrowed shyly into his chest, which only made him laugh louder.

As for his opinion of me, he offered only three words.

"Because she's pathetic!"

That's just how Shane Sinclair was. He thought I was in love with him, so he acted however he pleased. He never bothered to hide his disgust for me, no matter who was watching.

I was used to it, so I just lowered my head and pretended I hadn't heard.

It was just that the crowd he was with today was even sleazier than usual.

Hearing Shane Sinclair call me pathetic, they exchanged glances and snickered. "Exactly how pathetic? You ever try her out?"

Shane Sinclair instantly caught their meaning. He shot me a disgusted look and waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not *that* desperate."

"True. When is Shane ever short on girls?"

The group erupted in laughter.

The girl in Shane Sinclair's arms, however, was not pleased. Her eyes widened, welling up with tears. "Didn't you say you liked me best?"

"I do. I like you best," Shane Sinclair said, rubbing her shoulder and murmuring the same sweet nothings he always used to placate girls. "Don't listen to them. They're just messing with you."

With his captivating face, a single, casual lie was all it took to make her stop crying.

Then, Shane Sinclair's gaze shifted to me, but he spoke to the girl in his arms. "Go get that stuff from her. We're heading in."

The girl walked over in a few steps. As she took the items from me, she made a point to lean in and whisper in my ear, "Heh. Once a lapdog, always a lapdog."