Boys Like Him

Stupidly addictive

The warm evening air slapped my cheeks as I jogged up the walkway, forcing myself not to look back at his car even though I could feel his eyes on me.

My phone buzzed just as I reached the front lobby door.

I huffed a laugh under my breath.

He didn't even pretend to wait.

made it inside?

I bit my lip, pushing the door open.

I'm fine. I survived the treacherous five steps, thank you. I texted back.

proud of you. I was worried I'd have to come rescue you again.

I snorted, stepping into the hallway. I headed toward the staircase, nerves buzzing more from him than anything.

You can go inside, you know.

Three dots appeared.

Paused.

Vanished.

Reappeared.

I will. I'm just making sure you're actually going up.

You're ridiculous

He sent a photo, a blurred one, taken in the dim car, the flash catching one raised eyebrow.

And you're still blushing.

I slapped a hand over my face as I took the last flight of stairs.

I am NOT

Nyelle. I literally watched you from the car turn the color of a tomato.

I almost choked on my laughter.

My phone buzzed again.

Okay, now I'm going in. Tell me when you're in your apartment.

God, the audacity. The stupid, heart-melting audacity.

My keys jingled as I fumbled them into the lock.

I'm inside, unkidnapped.

Good girl, lock the door.

I actually listened.

also? I watched the video again, btw.

I froze. My soul left my body, sprinted back to the staircase, descended, exited the building, and ran into traffic.

Please tell me you're joking.

nah. I needed a laugh. You delivered.

I threw my keys on the counter and buried my face in my hands.

I hate you.

His reply came instantly.

" Little miss WOOH!!"

I squeaked. Actually squeaked.

I paced my tiny living room, face on fire, dying inside.

I DID NOT scream that.

... Should I send the clip?

I collapsed onto my couch with a groan, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.

Nyelle. It's literally on camera. The internet thinks you're my personal hype coach.

That actually made me laugh loud enough that my chest shook. I hadn't laughed like this in weeks. Maybe months.

I shifted onto my back, staring up at the ceiling where the shadows swayed, phone warm in my hand. I could feel the glow settling into my bones, soft and anxious but good. The kind of good that makes you kick your feet like an i***t.

We texted for hours.

Nothing deep. Just... stupid things. Random things.

He asked what my favorite cereal was. I lied and said something sophisticated, and he called me out because my "face gives Lucky Charms vibes." I told him he looked like someone who'd put ice in milk, and he pretended to be offended.

It was ridiculous and easy and stupidly addictive.

We were both terrible at pretending not to enjoy it.

At some point near midnight, the warmth in my chest settled.

Hey, real question

uh oh....okay...?

Want to come to our game on Friday? The Driftwood Kings vs The Sundown Strays. The biggest rivalry since the Strays haven't put up a W against us since the Drought of '09. I'll save you a seat.

My breath caught. I typed, deleted, retyped, and deleted again.

I don't think I can. I'll be busy.

A pause.

A long one.

So long, I thought he was annoyed, or worse, offended.

okay. fair. But I'm still saving you a seat just in case.

...okay.

That was all I sent before I tossed my phone aside and fell back on the couch, hands pressed to my burning face. The room was quiet except for the thrum of my heartbeat in my ears.

I should've been exhausted after everything: the gossip, stares, embarrassing video, questions, stress, and the complete insanity of my day.

But instead... I felt alive.

Ridiculously, stupidly, unbelievably alive. A soft, helpless smile tugged at my lips as I dragged the blanket over my head.

I let my arm fall off the couch, reaching blindly for my phone, mostly because I was tempted to scroll back through our texts and re-read them like a delusional i***t.

But the screen lit up, and my stomach plummeted.

2:07 AM.

Oh s**t.

I shot upright so fast the world tilted.

I hadn't eaten, showered, done a single assignment, or even opened the twenty missed messages that were now blinking at the top bar like angry warnings since I arrived.

"s**t," I hissed, pushing myself off the couch like the floor had suddenly become lava.

I grabbed my bag, which was still by the door exactly where I dropped it, and practically spilled its contents across the table. A forgotten granola bar slid off the edge like it had given up on life.

All of it stared at me like an intervention.

I snatched my phone again.

First, food.

Except... I didn't have the energy to cook. Or even a microwave.

I tore the granola bar open and started chewing on autopilot.

Mariah's texts were chaotic as always.

Did you get home safe???

hello????

Nyelle i sWEAR answer me

, oh, so ur ignoring me for the captain, huh 😭😭

I winced.

And snorted.

And texted back quickly.

I'm alive pls calm down.

Also, no, I wasn't ignoring you, I swear

Before I could even lock my phone.

LIES BUT I FORGIVE YOU BC I LOVE YOU NOW GO TO BED HOE

I shook my head, smiling despite the exhaustion.

Next, my parents.

Eight missed messages from my mom.

Two from my dad.

Photos of the dog.

A passive-aggressive reminder about my sleep schedule.

A cheerful "Did you eat??"

(Which made me feel personally attacked.)

I typed out a rushed but sincere reply, promising I'd call tomorrow and pretending my life wasn't currently a messy pile of chaos and hormones.

Finally, the rest, class group chats, reminders, alerts, and one email from my professor that made me audibly groan.

I lit the table lamp, cracked open my notebook, and started scanning through tomorrow's, well, technically today's assignment. My handwriting looked like it had been done by someone in the middle of a small earthquake. My brain felt like mush. My eyes were gritty and heavy.

But I forced myself to focus, copying notes, answering prompts, and highlighting things I'd absolutely forget by morning.

Halfway through writing a paragraph, I paused.

Stared at the sentence.

And groaned into my palms.

"Get a grip," I whispered to myself, shaking it off.

I finished the final question with the last scraps of brainpower I had left, shoved everything back into my bag, and dragged myself to the bathroom for the world's fastest shower.

By the time I crawled into bed, it was 3:06 AM.

My phone buzzed once on the pillow beside me, blinking a single notification.

His name.

I froze.

I told myself not to open it.

Not now.

Not when I needed sleep.

But my hand moved on its own.

Goodnight, neighbor.

My breath hitched.

I typed back before my common sense could scream at me.

goodnight, Lloyd.

I set the phone down.

Turned off the lamp.

Closed my eyes.

And even after the longest, messiest, wildest day of my life...

I fell asleep smiling.