Boys Like Him

That stupid, unfairly charming grin

His free hand slid down my ribs, rough palm cupping my breast through my top, thumb brushing the underside before he squeezed. Hard. Then he found my n****e, rolled it between finger and thumb, pinched until I arched off the car with a broken moan swallowed by his mouth.

Somewhere far off, a car door slammed. Headlights swept across the lot. I didn't even flinch. Neither did he. We just kept devouring each other like the rest of the world had already burned down.

When he finally pulled back, we were both panting, foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, my lips swollen and tingling. I could feel how wet I was, how my thighs were trembling, how badly I wanted him to keep going right here against his car, where anyone could see.

"Not here, Cherry."

I licked my bruised bottom lip, tasting him still.

I stumbled out of the car, my legs not entirely steady beneath me, breath coming in shallow pulls like I'd forgotten how to take in air properly.

God.

People had definitely walked past.

Seen something.

Maybe not everything, but enough.

The realization hit late, and it only made the flush creep higher up my neck.

I pressed my lips together, trying to compose myself, smoothing down my shirt like that could somehow erase what had just happened.

Behind me, the car door shut.

I turned.

That stupid, unfairly charming grin stretched across his face, one brow lifting slightly as his gaze dragged over me.

He waggled his brows.

A small laugh slipped out of me, shaking my head as I tried and failed to hold onto any kind of dignity.

It was the first time all day he looked... relaxed.

And it unknotted my nerves.

"Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," he shot back, entirely too pleased with himself.

His grin faded just a fraction, and his eyes lingered on me a second too long.

My smile faltered slightly.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head, like brushing it off.

"Nothing."

But it didn't feel like anything.

A small silence slipped in between us.

I watched him push off the car, hands sliding into his pockets, shoulders rolling like he was working tension out of them.

He exhaled slowly.

"Cherry," he cooed.

My chest tightened a little.

"Yeah?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"I'm going to be busy for a while," he replied finally.

I blinked. "Busy?"

"Yeah, and I don't think I'll be around till Sunday."

"Sunday?" I echoed in confusion.

I pulled my brows together slightly. "That's... six days."

Too long.

The thought came uninvited.

"I know," he murmured, stepping closer. "I know."

There was something almost apologetic in the way he said it, but not quite enough to hold onto.

"I've got things I need to take care of."

My fingers curled slightly at my sides.

I searched his face. "What kind of things?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over." He whispered.

"Is it something I can help with?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He shook his head immediately.

"No," he answered. "It's... personal."

That word landed heavier than it should have.

Personal.

A quiet boundary.

"Oh," I replied.

I nodded, more to myself than him.

"Okay."

My chest tightened.

Because suddenly, the past two weeks, those stolen hours, the late mornings, the way we'd folded into each other like the rest of the world didn't exist. It felt like a bubble.

And I could feel it... About to pop.

Of course it was.

We had lives outside this.

Responsibilities.

Reality.

I swallowed, forcing that tight feeling down, pulling in a steady breath before lifting my chin slightly.

I smiled.

"It's alright," I replied.

Even though something in me didn't entirely agree.

"See you Sunday, then."

It sounded more distant than I intended.

He smiled again, but this time, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Don't worry, Cherry," he murmured. "I'll try not to make you miss me too much."

I huffed a small laugh anyway, because that's what I always did with him.

Met him where he stood.

Even when I didn't fully understand the ground beneath my own feet.

"Yeah," I murmured. "Good luck with that."

I lifted my hand in a small wave.

He turned, sliding back into the driver's seat.

The engine started.

And just like that, He was pulling away.

I stood there, watching as his car disappeared out of the parking lot, the sound fading until there was nothing left.

I wrapped my arms around myself without thinking and headed to my apartment slowly.

It already felt different.

I kept thinking about what it would be like without him around, no late-night knocks on my door, no lazy mornings tangled in his sheets, no stolen glances across the hallway that turned into something reckless five minutes later.

I'd gotten used to him, his presence, voice, and the way he filled space without trying. Now the thought of not having that... it left this hollow, dragging feeling behind my ribs.

Why didn't he tell me earlier?

The thought slipped in before I could stop it.

I slowed my pace.

Come to think of it... he hadn't told me a lot of things.

Not really.

Bits and pieces, sure. Just enough to keep things moving. But never the full picture. Never anything that required explanation.

That's just how he is, closed off and private, I concluded.

I reached my door, sliding my key out of my bag. For a second, I just stood there, staring at the lock, my thoughts still tangled somewhere between him leaving... and everything he hadn't said.

Then I pushed the key in.

It didn't turn.

I scrunched my face in confusion.

I tried again, slower this time.

Still nothing.

A small, uneasy feeling crept up my spine.

The door wasn't locked.

I stilled.

Did I forget?

Slowly, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pushed.

The door gave way with a soft creak.

Too easily.

A breath caught in my throat as I stepped inside.

Everything looked... normal.

But something was wrong.

I could feel it.

I took a step forward.

Then another.

My heart started to pound against my ribs.

I moved further in, eyes scanning every inch of the space like something might jump out if I looked away for even a second.

I stopped dead in my tracks.