Chapter 4
1706 Words
The Loans We Take for Love
Chapter 4: The Day He Said He Would Have Chosen Her Instead, and I Learned What a Placeholder Feels Like
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The week after the party was a funeral without a body.
Naomi went to class. She took notes. She solved problems. She drank the coffee Eli placed on the library table every morning. She answered her mother's texts with one-word replies. She ignored Caleb's messages entirely.
She also stopped reaching for Darian's hand.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. He wasn't obliviousâhe was strategic. He waited three days before he said anything, letting her twist in the silence, letting her wonder if she had done something wrong.
Then, on Thursday, he called her.
"We need to talk," he said. His voice was flat. Businesslike. "Come over tonight."
It wasn't a question.
---
She went.
She told herself she was going because she wanted to fix things. Because every relationship had rough patches. Because she had already given him so muchâher time, her body, her body countâand walking away now would mean admitting it had all been a mistake.
Her mother's voice whispered: "You made your bed."
So she went.
---
His dorm room smelled the same as alwaysâcheap candles and something metallic, like old coins. Darian sat on his bed, his back against the wall, his laptop open but ignored. He didn't stand when she walked in. He didn't kiss her cheek.
"Close the door," he said.
She closed it.
"Something's different," he said. "You've been cold. Distant. I want to know why."
Naomi stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest. She had rehearsed this conversation in her head a dozen times. I heard what Marcus said. I heard you laugh. I heard you say I'm "working on it" like I'm a project.
But the words stuck in her throat. Because she knew, somehow, that saying them would only make her look weak. Needy. The kind of girl who couldn't take a joke.
"I've just been stressed," she said. "Loans. Classes. My mother."
Darian studied her for a long moment. Then he sighedâthat sigh, the one that made her feel like a burden.
"You're always stressed. It's exhausting, Naomi. I'm trying here. I'm trying to be patient. But you make it really hard."
You make it really hard. She had given him everything. And he was telling her that she was the problem.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He nodded, like he had been waiting for those words. "Come here."
She went to him. Sat on the edge of his bed. Let him pull her into a hug that felt less like comfort and more like possession.
"Just relax," he murmured against her hair. "Stop overthinking everything. We're fine. You're fine."
She wasn't fine. But she nodded anyway.
---
The c***k became a chasm three days later.
They were walking across campus, heading to the library. The sky was gray, the air cold, the trees bare. Darian was on his phone, laughing at something Marcus had texted. Naomi walked beside him, quiet, her hands in her pockets.
"Marcus says you're too serious," Darian said, not looking up. "He says you never laugh anymore."
"Maybe there's nothing to laugh about."
Darian stopped walking. He looked at her thenâreally looked, his eyes sharp, assessing.
"You know what? You're right. You have changed." He pocketed his phone. "You used to be fun. Now you're justâĶ sad. All the time. It's a lot."
Naomi's chest tightened. "I'm sorry I'm not fun enough for you."
"That's not what I said."
"That's exactly what you said."
Darian's jaw tightened. He glanced aroundâother students walking past, heads down against the windâthen lowered his voice.
"You want to know the truth? I had options, Naomi. A lot of options. Girls who are easier to be around. Girls who don't treat every conversation like a therapy session."
She felt the words like a slap. Options. She had been an option. Not a choice. Not a priority. An option among many.
"Then why are you with me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Darian shrugged. "Because you're smart. And you're pretty. And I thought you'd be different."
Different. Not better. Not special. Different. Like a new flavor he wanted to try.
She thought about Caleb, who was watching from across the green, remorse heavy in his eyes. She thought about Damon, who had wanted to build a family with her, whom she had rejected for this. She thought about her mother, who had told her that boys only wanted one thing, and that thing was not love.
She thought about Eli, who never asked her to be anything other than what she was.
"And what about your friend?" she heard herself ask. "The one you said you would have dated instead of me?"
Darian's eyes flickered. For a momentâjust a momentâsomething like guilt crossed his face. Then it was gone.
"That's not what I said."
"You said it to Marcus. I heard you."
"You were eavesdropping?"
"I was standing in your friend's kitchen, Darian. You were three feet away."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he laughedâa short, dismissive sound. "Fine. You want the truth? Yeah, I said it. I said I would have dated one of your friends instead. Because she's more fun. She laughs. She doesn't make everything so heavy."
Naomi felt the ground shift beneath her feet. She had known, somewhere in her gut, that he didn't value her. But hearing it out loudâhearing him say he would have chosen someone elseâwas a different kind of pain. It was the pain of being seen as replaceable. Of being told that your presence was a favor, not a gift.
"Why are you still with me?" she asked again.
Darian shrugged. "Because I'm here. And you're here. And it's easier than breaking up."
Easier than breaking up. Not love. Not even like. Just convenience.
Naomi looked at himâhis handsome face, his careless eyes, the mouth that had whispered I love you in the dark. She wondered if he had ever meant it. She wondered if he even knew what the words meant.
"I have to go," she said.
"Go where?"
"Class."
"You don't have class for another hour."
She didn't answer. She turned and walked away, her footsteps quick, her chest burning. She didn't look back. She didn't cry. She just walked, past the library, past the student union, past the oak tree where he had first kissed her.
She walked until she reached the engineering building's back stairwellâthe one no one used, where the lights flickered and the walls smelled of dust. She sat on the cold concrete steps, pulled out her phone, and called the only person she could.
Eli answered on the second ring.
"Naomi? You okay?"
"No," she said. Her voice cracked. "I'm not okay."
"Where are you?"
"Engineering building. Back stairwell."
"Stay there. I'm coming."
He hung up. She sat in the flickering light, her phone clutched in her hands, and waited.
---
Eli arrived in seven minutes. He was out of breath, his glasses fogged from the cold, his backpack still on. He didn't ask questions. He just sat down beside her on the concrete steps and waited.
They sat in silence for a long time.
"He said he would have dated one of my friends instead," Naomi finally said. Her voice was flat, hollow. "He said I'm too heavy. Too sad. That being with me is exhausting."
Eli didn't say anything. He just nodded.
"I gave him everything," she continued. "My time. My body. My body count. I added one for him. And he's standing in his friend's kitchen, laughing about how easy I am to manage."
"Naomiâ"
"I'm not asking for advice. I just needed someone to know." She turned to look at him. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were soft. "You're the only person who doesn't want something from me, Eli. That's why I called you."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I want something."
Her heart sank. "What?"
"I want you to stop letting him make you feel small." He pulled off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, put them back on. "That's not a transaction. That's just me caring about my friend."
Naomi stared at him. The flickering light made his face look older, sharper. She realized, suddenly, that she had never really looked at him before. Not like this.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded. "You want to study? Or you want to sit here and not talk?"
"Not talk."
"Okay."
They sat in the flickering light, side by side, not talking. The silence was not uncomfortable. It was the first silence in weeks that didn't feel like a weapon.
---
Laterâmuch later, after the sun had set and the campus lights had flickered onâNaomi walked back to her dorm alone.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Darian: "You left. You always leave. Can we just talk like normal people?"
She didn't reply.
Another text: "I didn't mean what I said. You know I love you. I'm just stressed too."
She still didn't reply.
A third text: "Fine. Be like that. See if I care."
Naomi turned off her phone. She climbed the stairs to her room, lay down on her narrow bed, and stared at the cracks in the ceiling.
Body count: one, she thought. But I'm not adding another. Not for him. Not for anyone.
She didn't know yet that Darian would break up with her firstâthat he would choose his guys over her, that he would walk away without looking back, that he would brag about not getting caught.
But she knew, in that moment, that something inside her had hardened. Something that would not break.
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, she would take out another loan. Tomorrow, she would study harder. Tomorrow, she would call her sister.
Tonight, she would let herself be empty.
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End of Chapter 4
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- Writer
