Boys Like Him

Asshole

I was curled up on the couch, textbooks scattered around me, a half-empty mug of cold coffee at my side. I'd forced myself to study, work, and keep my mind occupied, and now my eyelids were heavy when I heard a knock.

I froze, staring at the door, telling myself it couldn't be him. He wouldn't. Not after... I didn't even finish the thought.

I rose slowly, every step heavy with suspicion and dread, and cracked the door open, and sure enough...His hair was a mess, eyes dark with exhaustion.

"I... Nyelle," he started, voice soft, almost hesitant. "I... can we talk?"

I slammed the door with all the force I could muster, or at least that was my intention, but he managed to wedge his foot in just in time, halting my attempt. My hand trembled with pent-up rage, and a fiery heat surged through my chest, making it feel as though I might explode. "Oh, so now you want to talk?" I spat, bitterness lacing my words. "After everything? After you made it abundantly clear just how little I meant to you, laughing with Brianna and plotting your little future while I was supposed to be nothing more than an afterthought? Talk? No, just get out of here, Lloyd. I don't want to see your face anymore."

He froze. That look, oh, that pitiful, hurt puppy look was deliberate, I could feel it. And it made something deep in me want to cave. But I swallowed it down, hard. "I said get out."

"I didn't... please, just hear me out," he started, stepping closer, and I slammed my shoulder into the door.

"I'm not letting you talk to me."

"I didn't do anything... wrong. You're overreacting."

I leaned back, incredulity flooding my voice. "Overreacting? Seriously? We're nothing, remember? So why should my feelings even matter to you? And then, you have the audacity to show up here, thinking you can charm me with that pathetic little act of yours?!" The bitterness laced my words as I glared, my heart racing in frustration.

"I wasn't Nyelle,"

"You weren't what?" I spat out, my voice rising in volume and frustration. "I don't want to do this anymore, Lloyd, I've made that abundantly clear! You're just not worth the trouble. You're nothing but an arrogant cliché of a basketball captain. I refuse to waste any more time on you." My hands trembled with anger, the raw emotion coursing through me as I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Just leave me alone!" I nearly yelled, the weight of my rage spilling over.

"I..." He stepped closer once more, his intense gaze locked onto mine. In response, I yanked the door wider, positioning my body firmly between him and the sanctuary of my apartment. "Do not come any closer. I mean it," I warned, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

He paused, the warmth of his breath washing over me as he regarded my stance with an unsettling calmness. "You're shutting me out over... what? Pride? Anger?" His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if he believed he could charm his way past my defenses. "You think I don't care about you? You think I want her?"

I felt my heart race at the mention of her, but before I could respond, he stepped forward. "It's you I want, Nyelle. Always you." The sincerity in his voice cut through the tension, pulling at something deep inside me. "You're the one I can't stop thinking about. You're the one I-"

"Stop. Just stop." My voice wavered, a tumultuous blend of fury and heartache. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you, Lloyd. I'm done. Done!"

For a fleeting moment, he hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his features. Then, he took a step closer, desperation evident in his posture. "Nyelle, you're letting anger cloud your judgment. You really think I'm the villain here? I..."

With every ounce of emotion surging through me, I pressed my palm against the cold, smooth surface of the door, forcing it shut with a fierce shove that echoed through the air. The door thudded against the frame, cutting him off mid-sentence. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, fueled by an overwhelming rush of fury and sorrow.

I leaned against the door, shaking, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "f**k you," I whispered, because he needed to hear it.

A moment later, I heard him sigh.

I pressed my back harder against the door, tears falling freely now, trembling with rage. "We are done. Done! And if you think you get to manipulate me with that sad act, think again."

A few muffled curses came through the door.

I didn't move for a long time. My fingers were trembling, my chest ached, and my heart was a warzone of relief and lingering rage.

"Nyelle... please. I... I won't leave until we talk. Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking. I miss you."

I felt a sharp pang in my chest, as if his words had reached in and twisted my heart. I shouldn't care. He doesn't have the right to just... show up like this. Yet, against my will, I felt my heart betray me, aching painfully at the sound of his voice. But surely, if I stayed silent, he'd eventually walk away, wouldn't he? He had to.

With that thought, I remained frozen behind the door.

"Nyelle... please." His voice was softer now, almost breaking under the weight of emotion. "I'm not... I'm not okay without you. I need to see you, just talk. Just... five minutes." The desperation was palpable, each word tinged with sorrow, and it made it even harder to resist the pull towards him.

Part of me burned with anger, every fiber screaming that he had no right. No right. But another part, a dangerous, infuriating, stupid part, wanted to see him. My stomach churned. I closed my eyes, willing my heart to stop betraying me.

Minutes passed. I heard him shift outside. I imagined him sitting there, hands clutched together, head bowed, maybe even crying.

Hours slipped by. My body finally gave in to exhaustion, rage, heartache, and tension, it all caught up with me. I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, eyes dry but burning, fists clenched. And slowly, desperately, sleep claimed me.