Boys Like Him

What sort of guy

Mariah didn't flinch.

"And you know it," she added, quieter. "Or at least... a part of you does."

My throat went dry.

She lifted the phone slightly. "That message? That picture? That didn't come from nowhere."

A beat.

"That's someone who's been where you are."

My chest tightened painfully.

"Someone who got out," she finished. "And is trying to warn you."

Silence settled between us again.

"Real? That could be fake, AI, and all that crap nowadays... nothing is believable anymore." I shrugged, trying to downplay it, but Mariah wasn't having it.

She scoffed. "Nyelle, he's got you sucked in completely. You don't even see the truth staring you in the face."

I flinched at the intensity, the way she wasn't holding back.

"What sort of guy," she continued, pacing slightly as if she couldn't contain herself, "cares about you, and yet won't commit? Who drags you into this... open relationship nonsense and watches your life unravel while you're too blind to notice?"

Her eyes were wide, almost desperate, and I could see the frustration etched in every line of her face. "Nyelle! He's a star! He's on his way to the top NBA clubs after school. He has a plan, a path, a future! And you... You were making plans too. Remember? Our late-night talks about leveling up, about getting your life right?"

I swallowed, guilt pricking my chest. She was right, in a way that hurt to admit.

"And now," she added, voice rising slightly, "you're throwing it all away for what? For a thrill? A few stolen moments that leave you feeling high and empty at the same time? Nyelle... I'm scared for you. I don't want to see you crash, not like this."

I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily in my chest. My heart wanted him, and my brain wanted to listen.

"He isn't like that, Mariah. You don't know him. You only see the outside," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my chest.

"Fuck... this is my fault. I shouldn't have encouraged you to chase him. I... I blame myself."

I blinked, surprised at the sudden shift, and reached across the table, placing a hand over hers. "Mariah, why are you trying to make this your fault? I made the decision. I made the choice. And I need you to trust me that I know what I'm doing. Starting now, I'll get my s**t back together, and I'll prove to you, he's not the problem."

I saw the look on her face, the one that said she wanted to yell, scold, and c***k my head open for being reckless. But she paused, thought better of it, and shook her head slowly, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

"So..." she drawled finally, shifting the conversation, "when will you be coming in to work?"

I grinned despite the tight knot in my stomach. "Well... I can start tomorrow. After lectures."

She laughed softly, the tension between us easing just a little, though I knew the unspoken words, warnings, concerns, and care were still hanging in the air.

Mariah stayed a second longer than she needed to.

Her hand rested on the door handle, but she didn't open it. Just stood there.

"Tomorrow, huh?" she broke the awkwardness, glancing back at me. "After lectures."

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean it this time."

"Okay," she answered.

But she didn't move.

"Nyelle..."

A beat.

"There's something I didn't say earlier."

My stomach tightened slightly. "What?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "It's nothing. Just..." she forced a small smile "show up tomorrow, okay?"

"Mariah..."

My phone buzzed.

We both looked at it.

Something about the timing made my chest go tight.

I picked it up slowly.

Unknown number.

Again.

A strange, cold feeling crept up my spine as I opened the message.

No picture this time.

Just text.

You think he's with you?

My fingers stilled.

Before I could even process it, another message came in.

Check his apartment tonight.

"What is it?" Mariah asked, stepping closer.

I didn't answer.

Couldn't.

Because suddenly, everything she'd said earlier came rushing back.

He doesn't tell you things.

You're slipping.

You don't see what's in front of you.

"Nyelle?" she pressed.

I turned the phone toward her.

She read it.

Her jaw tightened.

"Okay," she said slowly, too calmly. "That's not normal."

I let out a shaky breath. "It's probably just someone trying to mess with me."

"Maybe," she agreed. But her tone didn't match the word.

Then she exhaled and stepped back slightly, running a hand through her hair.

"I wasn't going to say this," she admitted quietly.

My chest tightened. "Say what?"

She looked at me.

"That number... or something like it." She paused. "I've seen it before."

The room felt smaller.

"What do you mean?"

"Last semester," she explained. "There was this girl, Talia. Not close, but we had a class together." She flicked her eyes away briefly, like she was replaying it. "She was... off for a while. Distracted and always on her phone. Then one day she just stopped showing up."

A chill slid down my spine.

"And?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

Mariah swallowed. "I heard things. Nothing confirmed, just... whispers. About a guy and how intense it got. How fast. And then.." she gestured vaguely.

My grip tightened on my phone.

"That doesn't mean it's the same..."

"I know," she cut in quickly. "I'm not saying it is. I'm just saying..." She stepped closer again. "This isn't random, Nyelle."

My heart started to pound.

I hated that part of me was listening.

Really listening.

"He wouldn't..." I started, but the words felt weak even to me.

Mariah didn't argue this time.

That made it worse.

"I'm not telling you what to do," she said softly. "I'm just asking you to pay attention."

"Please."

I looked away.

Because suddenly, I didn't know what I believed.

She lingered a second longer, like she wanted to say more, then finally opened the door.

"Text me," she added.

"I will."

She nodded.

Then she was gone.

I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing.

Then my eyes dropped to my phone again.

The messages were still there.

Unchanged.

Waiting.

My chest felt tight.

This was stupid.

It had to be.

People messed around all the time, jealous exes, bitter girls, random trolls. It didn't mean anything.

It didn't mean him.

Right?

I exhaled sharply and turned, pacing across the room before stopping.