Darcy

Darcy Connelly had always been a mystery to everyone.

How the heiress to one of the country’s wealthiest families had ended up living in such a cheap and spartan apartment complex was the worst-kept secret on campus. Rumors claimed that her workaholic parents, who had been absent throughout her childhood, had raised her to be extremely spoiled and indulged in expensive vices; fed up with her excesses, they had sent her to that seedy building with a minimal monthly allowance to teach her a lesson in humility.

But their plan had backfired.

In the hallways, Darcy was known as the “nerd-eater,” and everyone warned that you had to keep your distance. The strangest thing was that, when asked for details, her former victims would turn pale, swallowing hard with a mix of terror and excitement, and flatly refuse to utter a single word. Everyone knew they fled in terror after Darcy reminded them, with a sweet smile, that her influential family could destroy their college careers and ruin their entire futures with a single call from her parents if they opened their mouths. No one said a word about what happened behind closed doors.

That’s why seeing her today in the hallway shattered all your preconceptions and made you think the rumors were pure exaggerations.

There was your apartment neighbor, seemingly “struggling” clumsily with a pile of huge shopping bags that looked like they weighed more than she did. Darcy was wearing a gray plaid tank top with straps that accentuated her generous D-cup bust and black dolphin shorts that revealed her thick thighs. With her incredibly pale skin and slightly tousled chocolate-colored hair, she looked like a normal girl. Defenseless, cute, and extremely sweet with her feigned shyness.

Noticing your footsteps, Darcy let out a dramatic sigh, dropping one of the plastic bags to the ground as she looked at you with pleading eyes. Her black, sharp, and shrewd eyes locked onto you.

"Ah… there aren’t any gentlemen left in this place, are there?" she said in a soft, drawling voice, immediately sparking your urge to help her.

As you approached and took the heavier weight, you glanced quickly at her belongings. There were no books or regular groceries. Among her things were a couple of shiny stainless steel bowls, and in the large box you’d just lifted, a disassembled metal cage. Noticing you staring at it, she hurried to comment.

"I think I'm going to struggle setting it up; it’s huge," she sighed with feigned but very convincing regret, walking toward the open door of her apartment while holding a full shopping bag tightly against her chest. "Will you help me bring the things inside, sweetie? Sorry... if I’m taking up your time, just go to class..."

Darcy Connelly siempre había sido un misterio para todos.

El cómo la heredera de una de las familias más ricas del país había terminado viviendo en un complejo de apartamentos tan económico y escueto era el secreto peor guardado del campus. Los rumores decían que sus padres, adictos al trabajo y ausentes durante toda su infancia, la habían criado sumamente consentida y llena de vicios caros; hartos de sus excesos, la habían mandado a ese edificio de mala muerte con una asignación mensual mínima para darle una lección de humildad.

Pero el tiro les había salido por la culata.

En los pasillos, Darcy era conocida como la "come-nerds" y la advertencia general era mantener la distancia. Quienes intentaban pedir detalles a sus víctimas anteriores solo encontraban rostros pálidos, silencios incómodos y una rotunda negativa a soltar una sola palabra. Era un secreto a voces que huían espantados después de que Darcy les recordara, con una sonrisa dulce, que su influyente familia podía destruirles la carrera universitaria y arruinarles el futuro entero con un solo llamado de sus padres si abrían la boca. Nadie decía nada de lo que pasaba a puertas cerradas.

Hoy, ella se encontraba en el pasillo común del edificio residencial.

Ahí estaba la vecina de apartamento, aparentemente "batallando" torpemente con un montón de bolsas de compras enormes que parecían pesar más que ella. Darcy vestía un tank top gris de cuadritos con tirantes que acentuaba su generoso busto copa D y unos shorts dolphin negros que dejaban ver sus muslos gruesos. Con su piel increíblemente pálida y su melena color chocolate un poco despejada, mostraba una timidez fingida.

Al notar los pasos de alguien acercándose, Darcy soltó un suspiro exagerado, dejando caer una de las bolsas plásticas al suelo mientras miraba al frente con ojos suplicantes. Sus ojos negros, afilados y astutos, se fijaron directo en ti.

"Ah... ya no quedan caballeros en este lugar, ¿verdad?" soltó con una voz arrastrada y suave.

Entre sus pertenencias caídas y las bolsas entreabiertas se dejaban ver un par de bowls de acero inoxidable relucientes y, en la caja grande que estaba en el suelo, una jaula de metal desarmada. No había libros ni comida normal a la vista. Al notar la mirada fija en sus cosas, ella se apresuró a comentar, acomodándose un mechón de cabello:

"Creo que me va a costar armarla, es grandota..." suspiró con pena fingida pero muy convincente, dando unos pasos hacia la puerta abierta de su apartamento mientras sostenía una bolsa de comestibles llena contra su pecho. "¿Me ayudas a dejar las cosas dentro, cosita? Perdón... si te estoy quitando el tiempo ve a clases nomás..."