Boys Like Him

Intoxicating

I barely registered the drone of the teacher's voice, my pen hovering uselessly over the notebook while my mind somersaulted over every word he'd said. My fingers itched to pick up my phone again, and when it buzzed, my heart jumped like it had been startled awake.

I caught myself smiling, oh, god, grinning like a complete fool, staring at the screen like it held the secrets of the universe. People around me scribbled, asked questions, argued over homework, and I was trapped in my own bubble, utterly incapable of doing anything else.

When the bell finally rang, it felt like a cruel trick, my legs shook as I tried to gather my books. A cluster of girls, some from my classes, some from the stands at the court, lingered near the exit. They exchanged glances, whispering, smirking, and flicking their eyes toward me.

I froze, the weight of their stares pressing against my skin.

"Hey," one of them started. "We saw you in the court today... sitting on the bleachers with him. He's never let anyone do that before. Are you... dating him?"

"Please," another added, a hand on her hip, "answer this. It's for my blog....just kidding. But seriously, are you?"

"No! Absolutely not," I squealed quickly, waving my hands as if swatting away the accusation. "We're... just... neighbors. That's it. Seriously."

Another girl raised an eyebrow, whispering to the others. "Really? That's weird... You two looked... close."

I swallowed hard, tightened my grip on my bag strap, and shook my head, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to me. "Nope. Just neighbors. That's all."

Their whispers followed me as I bolted down the hall.

I thought the entrance had been bad before, but now it felt like I was walking through a minefield.

"Stop... stop... It's not like that!" I muttered under my breath, knowing it meant nothing. No one could hear me. Everyone could see me. I could practically feel the stares sinking into my shoulders, crawling down my arms.

By the time I pushed through the café doors of Bean & Brew, I was a wreck. My hair had stuck to my neck in damp strands from nervous sweat, my cheeks felt like they had been painted red, and I was pretty sure I was walking like some kind of nervous cartoon character. Mariah spotted me immediately, practically bouncing with her usual energy.

"Nyelle," she hissed, barely holding back a laugh, "you are never going to forgive me for this."

"What, what is it?" I asked cautiously.

Before I could blink, she shoved the phone in my face. I widened my eyes and froze. There I was, a tomato-colored disaster, mid-cheer, mouth open in a loud, unhinged scream of Lloyd's name. Arms flailing like a marionette gone rogue, legs bent awkwardly, eyes watering from my own laughter, utter chaos. And worse, it wasn't just captured, it was captioned, zoomed, and circulating faster than I could breathe. I was a meme.

I dug my fingers into the edge of the table. My throat felt tight, like I'd swallowed a balloon. "Mariah... I... I..."

"Don't even try to explain!" she cut in, cackling, eyes sparkling with glee. "This is pure gold! Everyone is talking about it. And look at these comments, 'Nyelle the Cheer Queen,' 'Screaming for Love,' 'Meme of the Year!'" She tapped rapidly on the screen, making my stomach plummet.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to disappear into the tabletop. "I can't... I can't believe this. A meme? Really?" My voice was muffled.

Mariah leaned over, resting her elbows on the table, grinning like a cat who'd caught the mouse. "Oh, come on! You have to tell me everything. Spill it! All the details!" Her grin widened dangerously.

I groaned, pulling back enough to glare at her, but the words stuck in my throat, too tangled with mortification.

I wanted to melt into my chair and vanish completely. My bag felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, my legs jittered, and the faint hum of the café suddenly turned into a spotlight on me. I could practically feel everyone turning, peeking, and snickering, even if they weren't actually looking, my imagination filled in all the glaring eyes.

Mariah nudged me with her elbow. "Oh, don't act all innocent now. You cheered like a maniac for him on the court, you literally screamed his name in front of everyone!"

"I.. no, I didn't..." My protest sounded feeble even to my own ears.

"You did! And now, thanks to your new viral fame, everyone knows," she cackled, almost falling off the chair, waving the phone again. "You're not just a girl who's crazy about Lloyd, you're a meme too. Congratulations, Nyelle. Viral, awkward, and apparently, hopelessly in love."

I groaned, pressing the phone to my chest as it had bitten me, and slumped deeper into the chair. My face burned hotter than any summer sun. "This is... this is humiliating," I muttered, voice shaky. "I can't... I can't even look at anyone right now."

Mariah leaned closer, lowering her voice, though her grin remained. "Well, you can tell me everything. Otherwise, I'll keep laughing at you and sharing it until graduation."

I groaned again, burying my face in my hands, wishing for any kind of time machine to unmake the past twenty-four hours.

I slumped across the café table, my coffee cooling beside me, forgotten. My fingers traced invisible patterns on the wood, twisting in my lap as if the motion could somehow anchor me. "I... I don't know what's happening with me, Mariah," I admitted, my voice catching in my throat. "I've barely lived there a month, and I... I don't even know how to say it. I feel... drawn to him. I can't... I've already..." My cheeks burned hotter than the morning sun. "I... I touched myself. I imagined things... with him."

Mariah's eyes widened, a brief flash of surprise, but she didn't pull back or laugh. She leaned across the table and took my hand in hers. "Nyelle," she replied softly, "thank you for telling me. I know that wasn't easy."

I sank further, curling into myself as if the floor could swallow me whole. "It's... I can't stop thinking about him," I confessed, voice trembling. "His lips, his laugh, the way he moves... I keep replaying every second in my head. And now... the video..." I buried my face in my hands, shoulders trembling. "Everyone's seen me cheering... like a fool. I feel... exposed. Humiliated."

Mariah leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, hands tapping a rapid beat on the table. "Okay... listen carefully," she cooed, her voice firm but gentle. "This... all of this... It's powerful, I get it. He's intoxicating. But you have to weigh the consequences. You barely know him. You're both impulsive, your emotions are raw, and that video? It's proof of how fast things can spiral if you act without thinking. People will talk. They already are. And sometimes... they won't understand."

I swallowed hard, my chest tight with a mix of shame and desire. "I know... I just..." My voice faltered. How could I explain the pull in my chest, the way my fingers still ached to trace him, to feel him in my head, the way my body remembered things my brain wasn't ready to claim?

Mariah shook her head, leaning closer, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "No, you listen to me, Nyelle. Don't let your desire make your decisions for you. Think. Do you want to go after him and risk it all? Or do you hold back until you're sure? This isn't just a kiss or a fleeting thought, it's about control, choice, and self-respect. You need to decide what you're willing to risk before your body and your heart decide for you."

I nodded, trembling. "I... I don't know if I can wait," I admitted.

Mariah let out a long sigh, leaning back with a smirk that was all warmth and wisdom at once. "Then here's what I suggest," she whispered, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. My ears flushed at her tone. "Find a way to get the edge off without losing yourself. A vibrator, or whatever works for you. Control your own body. Don't let him, or your thoughts of him, control you. That way, when he's near, you can think clearly. You can enjoy the attraction without being swept away by it."

I froze, cheeks igniting hotter than a furnace. "A... a vibrator?" I whispered, horrified and mortified at the idea of her knowing.

She rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself. "Yes! Strategy !. You get the release you need without compromising yourself. You can be aware of your feelings without acting recklessly. That's... adulting."

I pressed my face into my hands, groaning softly, my body buzzing with heat and embarrassment. "I... can't believe you just said that out loud," I muttered, half-laughing, half-groaning.

Mariah laughed, tugging gently at my arm. "You're embarrassed? Perfect. That's called feeling alive. But listen, really listen, you're going to have to think carefully. What do you want? What risks are you willing to take? And when you feel that pull... that gnawing, irresistible pull, you decide if it's worth it. Because of this, Nyelle, is your life, your body, your rules. No one else's. Got it?"

I nodded, still mortified.