Boys Like Him

Zombie-raccoon

Ding-dong.

The doorbell stabbed straight through my skull. A sharp briiing that sliced into the last thread of sleep I'd been clinging to. I buried my face deeper into the pillow and dragged it over my ears as if cotton could fight sound waves.

Ding-dong.

"No... no, no, stop," I mumbled into the mattress.

Ding-dong.

I let out a strangled moan, dramatic enough to win an award. Every muscle in my body throbbed with the ache of too little sleep, my eardrums buzzed, my tongue felt like cardboard, and even my eyelashes seemed heavy. I blinked crustily at the weak morning light seeping through my curtains. I was pretty sure my soul had left my body around 3:30 AM and still hadn't returned.

The bell rang again.

"I hate everything," I muttered into the pillow and rolled off the bed in one tragic, graceless slide.

My feet hit the floor like cold slabs of reality.

I shuffled forward like a malfunctioning robot, hair sticking out in odd angles, blanket trailing behind me until it slipped off somewhere on the floor.

I cracked the door open mindlessly and slammed face-first into a solid, warm wall.

A very breathing wall. My forehead rebounded like I'd headbutted a brick.

"Ugh!" I staggered back, clutching my face, eyes stinging with instant tears.

A low chuckle vibrated through the chest, before it drifted up into the air between us.

When my vision stopped swimming, I looked up.

Lloyd leaned one palm casually above the doorframe, hoodie unzipped enough to show the faintest line of skin, hair tousled as he'd just run a hand through it, lips curved into a smirk that was entirely too awake this early.

"Morning, cherry," he cooed. "Didn't know you greeted people like that."

I froze. Fully.

All circuits fried.

"You," I croaked.

He lifted a brow. "Me."

My brain rebooted slowly, painfully. "Why... are you here?"

He ignored the question, sweeping his eyes over me in a long, slow pass.

"You're not heading to school today?" he asked, almost innocently.

My spine stiffened.

"What time is it?"

"Nine fifteen."

It was like someone hit the emergency alarm inside my skull.

"NINE?!"

"FUCK."

The panic shot through me so violently, I slapped the door shut, right in his face, on pure survival instinct.

I pressed my back against it, eyes wide. I had Assignments to turn in, I definitely missed the bus, my perfect attendance goal will be screwed. Everything!

"Oh, my god. Oh my god. Oh my.."

Then it hit me.

I. Just. Slammed. The. Door. On. Him.

I yanked it back open, mortified.

He was still there, smirking, still too damn good-looking in the hallway light.

"I...sorry...just... WHY ARE YOU HERE?" I blurted in one breath.

His expression softened, losing some of the teasing as he shifted his weight.

"I'm late to practice," he replied, shrugging one shoulder. " Didn't see you leave for school either, so I figured I'd take you to campus if you had classes to attend."

My stomach dropped and fluttered at the same time.

"But... you didn't have to," I murmured.

He looked straight at me.

"I wanted to."

My breath hitched.

I swallowed hard. "O-okay. Uh. Give me a few minutes."

"Take your time," he responded, leaning back against the wall.

My soul left my body and sprinted to the bathroom before my physical form caught up.

I slammed the bathroom door, turned on the light, and almost screamed.

"Oh, my GOD."

I clutched the sink with both hands.

I looked like a zombie.

A raccoon.

A zombie-raccoon that had fought for its life in a thunderstorm.

My Hair was an absolute disaster, tangled, frizzy, and somehow sticking up on only one side.

A faint dried drool mark at the corner of my mouth.

Skin pale and puffy.

Lips chapped.

Breath... passable but definitely not crush-proof.

I leaned in, sniffed, and grimaced.

"Why am I like this?" I whispered.

My reflection didn't answer.

I turned on the water with trembling hands and launched into the fastest human-cleaning ritual ever attempted.

Face wash. Rinse.

Toothbrush. Spit. Mouthwash.

Deodorant. Perfume.

Throw on actual clothes.

Brush hair into something that looked intentional.

Grab bag.

Try not to hyperventilate.

Five minutes later, I stumbled back to the door, smoothing my shirt, praying he wouldn't notice that my socks didn't match.

His eyes swept over me. "Better," he mumbled lightly, voice dipped in warmth.

Heat shot up my neck.

"I didn't ask," I muttered.

He grinned.

"Ready?"

No.

Not even close.

"Yeah," I whispered.

And when his hand brushed lightly against my back as he led me toward his car, every inch of me woke up at once.

He opened the passenger door.

I slid in, heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

He got in, started the engine, and pulled out smoothly.

"You good?" he asked.

I nodded too fast. "Just... really late."

"I've got you."

I kept stealing glances at the dashboard clock, knee bouncing, drumming my fingers on my thigh like they could make time move faster.

"Can you go any faster?"

He shot me a sideways look, amused. "I'm already ten over. Trying to get us killed?"

"Yes," I muttered. "If it saves my attendance record."

He laughed, and I felt it in my bones.

I slumped back, pressing my hands to my face. "I hate mornings."

"You don't say."

I peeked at him through my fingers. His scent drifted stronger when he shifted gears. I gripped the seatbelt tighter, trying not to breathe him in too obviously.

We hit a red light. I glared at it like I could will it green.

He accelerated harder the second it changed, tires humming, engine growling. The speedometer climbed. My pulse climbed with it.

"Almost there," he whispered.

"Hurry," I whispered, chewing my bottom lip raw.

We screeched into campus, tires protesting as he swerved into the closest spot.

I unbuckled before he fully stopped. "Thank you, thank you..."

"Wait."

He caught my wrist.

I froze, breath catching.

"You haven't eaten."

He reached into the back seat and pressed a small paper bag into my hands.

I blinked down at it. "What's this?"

"Chocolate."

My chest fluttered. "You... got this for me?"

He scratched the back of his neck, looking almost awkward. "Brianna gave it to me after practice last night. Good luck, thing. But..." He shrugged. "Figured you needed it more."

Brianna.

The flutter died.

"Oh," I answered, voice smaller than I wanted. "Thanks."

I bolted across campus as my life depended on it. I didn't look back.

But the ghost of his fingers on my wrist followed me the whole way.

And the chocolate in my hand tasted like jealousy.