Boys Like Him

Breaking me

My breath caught.

Please don't be him.

It rang once.

Twice.

"Hey, baby."

Her voice softened instantly.

My stomach dropped so fast it made my vision flicker.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about you," she murmured, twirling a damp strand of hair around her finger. "Are you busy tonight?"

She smiled.

"I knew you'd say that."

The room felt smaller.

My hands were still in her hair, working because stopping would mean acknowledging this was real.

And I wasn't ready for that.

"Hold on," Brianna said suddenly.

She gently tilted the phone, adjusting it just so, allowing him a clear view of my face.

As the screen flickered to life, my eyes locked onto it with an intensity that surprised even me.

There he was, Lloyd Luxen.

So relaxed, it was as if he had all the time in the world, leaning back casually in his chair, an air of ease enveloping him.

I watched as his gaze shifted, scanning his surroundings before it finally found me.

In that moment, he paused, and I felt the weight of his recognition wash over both of us, a brief flicker of acknowledgment sparking between our eyes.

"Hey, Nyelle."

That was it.

There was no trace of the warmth or affection he once infused into the way he pronounced my name, the syllables rolling off his tongue like a sweet secret meant only for me. Now, it felt flat and hollow, reduced to a mere acknowledgment.

I stood there, feeling the weight of his indifference pressing down on me, as if I had become just another face in a crowded room, completely unremarkable and easily forgotten.

"Yeah," he continued, voice easy, smooth. "I'll send the driver. Give me like thirty."

Brianna lit up.

"Perfect."

I felt it then, a sensation that surged through me with an intensity I hadn't experienced in a long time.

It wasn't the slow, dull ache that had been lingering beneath the surface, quietly gnawing at my resolve.

Nor was it the restless craving that had kept me on edge, yearning for something just out of reach.

This was something entirely different from anything I had ever experienced before, a deep, resonant feeling of heartbreak that shook me to my core. It felt as though my heart was being gently squeezed.

"Wear that thing I like," he said casually, his voice indifferent, almost dismissive.

As if I were a mere afterthought in the room, completely invisible to him.

As if he had forgotten I was there, hanging on his every word.

As if my feelings, my presence, didn't matter at all.

Brianna laughed softly, biting her lip. "You're terrible."

"You like it."

"I do."

Something in me snapped.

My hands dropped from her hair.

Water still running.

"I'll-" My voice came out thin. I cleared it, forcing it steadily. "I'll get someone else to finish."

No one stopped me.

No one cared.

They were too busy laughing.

Too busy continuing something that suddenly felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside.

The back room door clicked shut behind me with a finality that echoed in the otherwise quiet space.

And in that instant, everything collapsed around me.

My breath caught in my throat, constricted by a tightness I couldn't shake.

I pressed my trembling hands against the cool surface of the counter, desperately trying to ground myself, but it did little to soothe the chaos raging inside.

Nothing was enough.

Not the comforting weight of the familiarity of this place, nor the softness of the evening light filtering through the window.

Because it wasn't just the fact that he was with her, my heart twisted painfully at the thought, and I couldn't shake it off.

It wasn't even the betrayal of not being told, the betrayal that cut deeper than I ever anticipated.

It was the way he had carried on with such ease, as if nothing had changed, as if I were merely a ghost lingering in the background.

How casually he smiled at her, how naturally he laughed, each moment a sharp arrow piercing the core of my being.

I had been right there, mere feet away, and yet he didn't hesitate for a second.

It felt as if I was nothing to him.

A broken sound slipped out before I could stop it, and I felt my hand fly instinctively to my mouth to stifle my anguish.

Tears began to blur my vision, hot and relentless, each drop slipping down my cheeks faster than I could bring myself to wipe them away.

For the first time, there were no clever twists I could apply to this agony.

No excuses I could conjure up to mask the reality.

No subtle lies I could whisper to myself in the dark to help ease the pain.

This was not complicated.

This was not some undefined situation that could be muddled through in search of hope.

This was reality, harsh and unyielding.

And it looked exactly like it felt, raw, open, and utterly devastating.

And it was breaking me, piece by piece, leaving a hollow space where I used to reside.

By the time I managed to piece myself back together, my reflection didn't look like me.

My eyes were glassy, rimmed red.

I inhaled. Held it.

Then pushed the door open.

"Oh my God..."

A sharp, strangled sound cut through the air.

From Mariah.

My head snapped up.

Brianna sat there, frozen in the chair, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and dawning horror. The girls around her had gone dead quiet, eyes wide, hands hovering uselessly in the air like they didn't know whether to laugh or panic.

Mariah stood behind her, one hand still gripping the shampoo bottle, the other clamped over her mouth.

"s**t," she whispered. "s**t"

"What?" Brianna's voice came out sharp, irritated. "What did you do?"

No one answered.

And then slowly, Brianna turned her head toward the mirror.

"What the f**k is that?!"

Her scream ripped through the salon so loud it felt like it rattled the glass.

Her hair was no longer the soft, expensive blonde she came in with.

It was blazing Orange.

Almost neon, catching the light in a way that made it look unreal, like someone had taken a highlighter and dragged it through every strand.

For half a second, no one said anything.

And then one of the girls choked.

Another snorted.

And just like that, the room cracked.

"Is that?" one of them started, biting her lip.

"Oh my God," another whispered, already turning away, shoulders shaking.

Mariah moved fast then, stepping forward, hands up. "It's...it's fine, okay? It's just a reaction, we can fix it, it's not permanent..."

"Fix it?" Brianna's voice climbed, hysteria threading through it. "FIX IT? I look like a f*****g clown!"

Her eyes snapped to me.

"Of course," she let out a sharp, humorless laugh, pointing at her hair before dragging that same finger toward me. "Of course, this happens when she's the one touching me."

The room stilled again.

My stomach dropped.

"I didn't.." I started, but my voice came out thinner than I wanted.

"Oh, please," she cut in, rolling her eyes. "You think I didn't notice the attitude? The little looks? God, you're so pathetic."

Each word landed like a slap.

"I let you touch me," she continued, her voice dripping with mockery now, "and this is what I get? Some jealous little nobody trying to ruin me because she thinks sleeping with him makes her special?"

A murmur rippled through the girls.

I felt heat crawling up my neck, my chest tightening again with hurt.

"I didn't do anything to your hair," I said, more firmly this time, even though my hands were curling into fists at my sides. "It was an accident."

"Accident?" she echoed, then laughed again, louder this time. "Right. Just like it's an accident you're suddenly everywhere he is."

There it was.

Lloyd.

Always Lloyd.

"You really think you're the only one?" She tilted her head, eyes dragging over me slowly, deliberately. "That he's not going to get bored with you the same way he does everyone else?"

My throat tightened.

"Because let me tell you something," she leaned forward slightly, voice lowering like a secret weapon. "You're not different. You're just... current."

A few of the girls winced.

Mariah stepped in then, her voice cutting through. "Okay. That's enough."

Brianna turned her head slowly. "Excuse me?"

"I said that's enough," Mariah repeated. "We made a mistake, we'll fix it. But you don't get to stand in my salon and talk to my staff like that."

"Oh, I get it, you're protecting her."

Mariah didn't respond.

"Fine," she groaned. "Fix it."

Her gaze slid back to me.

"But she's not touching me again."

I swallowed, forcing my face into neutral even as my chest burned.

"Go to the back," Mariah murmured to me under her breath.

I didn't argue.

Couldn't.

Because if I stayed there one second longer, I wasn't sure what would come out of my mouth, and I refused to break like that in front of her.

So I turned.

Walked.

Each step was heavier than the last as their whispers picked up again behind me.