My Muse

Our little secret

They chose a table in the back, away from the windows, and sipped on cappuccinos that were too bitter but still comforting. The cinnamon donuts came warm, lightly glazed, and perfect for finger-licking.

“Can I ask you something?” Felicity asked, leaning in. “You’ve got a whole luxury car, you pull up like a rich uncle from Sandton—who are you really, Victor?”

He chuckled. “I’m just a guy, I promise.”

She tilted her head, skeptical.

“My dad owns a few commercial properties in Cape Town and some security contracts in Joburg,” he added eventually. “It’s old money. Quiet money. We don’t really post about it.”

Felicity’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re one of those kids.”

“Guilty.”

She smiled and nodded slowly. “You know… I grew up differently. My dad—well, my real dad—passed when I was four. I don’t remember much. But my stepdad’s been there since I was like six. He’s cool. Still treats me like I’m his.”

“That’s beautiful,” Victor said softly, fingers grazing his coffee cup. “A lot of people don’t even get one good parent.”

“Yeah… I guess I’m lucky. When I passed matric, they got me a Polo Vivo. But I barely drive it around Pretoria. People scare me here,” she admitted. “Hijacking, smash-and-grabs—nah. I’m too paranoid.”

Victor leaned back, grinning. “So what I’m hearing is… when you’re with me, you’ll drive more?”

Felicity laughed. “It’s a manual, Victor. Not like you can help me parallel park in an automatic car. The clutch will humble both of us.”

They burst into a shared laugh, the kind that echoed gently around the dim restaurant. He touched her hand briefly when their fingers brushed reaching for the same napkin. And she didn’t pull away.

She didn’t go back to the library.

They just… talked. About everything. About nothing. It felt easy, the way their energies fit like interlocking pieces of a mismatched puzzle that somehow still made sense.

Later, as the sky began to flirt with dusk, Victor checked his phone.

“Boys’ night tonight,” he said, a little hesitantly. “But I don’t really feel like leaving you.”

“You don’t have to,” she replied, meaning it.

He smiled slowly. “Wanna come with? I’ll behave.”

She gave him a long side-eye, but smirked. “Let’s go.”

---

Major Keys’ apartment in Hatfield was bigger than she expected. Wide open-plan space, a balcony overlooking the city, and a giant speaker system already pumping soft Amapiano. The air smelled like whiskey and cologne, and a few of the guys were already deep in their drinks.

Victor opened the door for her and as she stepped in—

“Chomi?” came a familiar voice.

Felicity blinked. “Amahlé?”

Amahlé stood near the kitchen, a cider in hand, wearing the same flirty top she wore she left them. Her brows shot up.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she added quickly.

Felicity shrugged. “Same. Didn’t know you’d be here either.”

There was a brief pause, awkward but not hostile. Victor gently touched Felicity’s back.

“Let me get you something to drink,” he offered. “You like Savannah, right?”

She nodded, grateful.

As Victor drifted off to the kitchen, Amahlé came closer. “So… you and Victor?”

Felicity didn’t answer directly. “We’re just talking.” she blushed

Amahlé smirked. “Mmh. Look at us. Involved with best friends. This is going to be interesting.”

Later that night, after too many shots and far too much laughter, Felicity found herself curled up on the long couch, Victor sitting close beside her, their thighs touching. She glanced across the room and saw Kagiso on the balcony, watching her.

Just watching.

But she didn’t look away.

She leaned her head against Victor’s shoulder and let the music carry her into the haze of something new.

Past midnight, the house had surrendered to sleep—muffled snores, tangled limbs on couches, empty bottles littered across the floor. The air was thick with leftover smoke and the stale perfume of too many good times. Felicity stirred, her head heavy, her mouth dry. She got up quietly, tiptoeing past Amahlé’s slumbering form and the sea of passed-out bodies. After using the toilet, she drifted toward the balcony for air, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool night breeze kissed her skin.

The quiet was calming… until she heard the creak of the balcony door.

She turned—startled, already sucking in a gasp—but Kagiso was faster. His hand gently covered her mouth.

"Shh… it’s just me," he whispered.

She blinked up at him, heart thudding. The moonlight cut across his cheekbones, and they stood there, breathless, barely inches apart. He dropped his hand slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

She nodded, still frozen. The silence between them was heavy, their bodies close enough to feel the heat pulsing off each other.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmured, voice husky.

Felicity’s chest rose sharply. She didn’t respond—not with words. Her hand moved up, fingers grazing his jaw, and then she leaned in, pressing her lips to his with a hunger she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now.

It was nothing like she expected—messy, tender, dangerous.

He kissed her back like he’d been starving for her. His hands gripped the balcony railing behind her, muscles taut as he fought the urge to pull her closer.

"I wanted to do this the moment I saw you on the rooftop," she whispered against his lips.

Kagiso's breath caught. "Oh… oh, so you do like me?"

His voice was almost boyish in its wonder, his eyes searching hers for something—permission, maybe.

Felicity pulled away slightly, chest heaving. "I don’t know… we’re gonna wake everyone up."

They stared at each other, breathing heavily.

“We should stop,” she said, even though her body was still leaning toward him.

Without another word, she slipped past him, back into the house, leaving him on the balcony—heart racing, fists curled, painfully aware of the growing tension in his jeans.

Felicity climbed into the couch next to Victor, facing the wall, her heart still pounding. She felt his arm shift to make room for her. She stared into the dark, shame washing over her like a cold tide.

What the hell did I just do?