Boys Like Him

My who?

I woke to warmth on my face and the soft thump of bass coming from somewhere outside the bedroom. For a long, sweet second, I didn't know where I was. Then the smell of cinnamon body mist and hair products hit me, and my brain whispered, Mariah's place.

I blinked my eyes open.

Her ceiling was the same dusty peach color it had always been, a little cracked and uneven, but the sunlight slipping through her curtains made everything glow like we were in the opening scene of a feel-good movie. My body felt lighter than usual, my chest wasn't tight, my shoulders didn't ache from clenching in my sleep, and the room carried that leftover energy from last night's laughter.

A soft thrum of Afrobeats drifted down the hallway. Mariah's doing, obviously.

I dragged myself up, hair a mess, sleep tugging at my bones. The moment I stepped out of the room, I saw her dancing barefoot in front of the mirror with a toothbrush in her mouth, oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, curls piled messily on her head. She spotted me through the reflection and grinned around the toothbrush.

"There she is!" she cheered, voice muffled. "Sleeping Beauty with the five-hour nap of the century."

I scratched my scalp. "Five hours is not a nap."

"Baby, anything under six is a nap. Come on."

She flicked her hips to the beat, the toothbrush still bobbing in her mouth, and I felt my lips tug into a smile without permission.

By the time I washed up, she already had two iced coffees on the counter.

"I added extra caramel," she said, handing it over.

"Mariah..."

"Don't fight it. Let sweetness into your life."

I groaned but took the cup anyway. The first sip was heaven disguised as liquid sugar. We got dressed with the reckless excitement of two girls who'd spent the night talking about life, futures, dreams, and the stupid things that made us laugh until our ribs ached.

She insisted I wear the outfit she picked for me.

"This is cute," she squealed, tugging the hem of the top. "Gives 'I wake up pretty, and I'm also a danger to society.'"

"I don't think anyone looks at me and thinks 'danger,' Mariah."

"They should. You're too sweet. It's suspicious." Then we were out the door, bags slung over our shoulders, locking her apartment with matching yawns.

The morning air was warm, humid, but bright. Mariah looped her arm through mine as we walked to her car.

"You ready for school?" she asked as we buckled in.

"No."

"Good. Me neither."

She pulled out of the lot with her usual dramatic flair, one hand on the wheel, the other dancing to whatever rap song blasted through the speakers.

"Oh!" She smacked my shoulder. "Your boys are coming back soon, right?"

I blinked. "My who?"

"Your husbands. BTS. The seven men who have you by the throat."

I groaned, covering my face. "Mariah, don't..."

"Don't what?" she teased, eyes widening in mock innocence. "Don't remind me that you literally cried when they enlisted? Or that your entire Pinterest board looks like a shrine? Or that you practiced fan chants in my car last year?"

"That was one time."

"Nyelle, you nearly sprained your voice."

I slapped her arm lightly, but I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. "I'm just excited for the comeback tour, okay? I've waited years. YEARS. And they're finally back."

She laughed, drumming her fingers on the wheel. "No judgment here. I know you're gonna fight ticket bots like you're storming a castle."

"I'm ready. I trained."

"You trained?"

"Emotionally."

She wheezed out a laugh so loud the passing rider stared at us.

"I will win."

"You'd better. Because I'll be the one dragging your unconscious body out after you faint when your bias blinks at the camera."

I choked on my sip of iced coffee. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No. I don't." I smiled into my cup.

Her laughter filled the car. Mine followed. For those short minutes, the world wasn't heavy.

By the time we pulled into the campus parking lot, the energy hit us before we even opened the doors.

The whole school buzzed like a hive.

Colorful Driftwood Kings vs The Sundown Strays banners hung from balconies. A mini stage was being set up near the quad. People rushed around with paint, flyers, and megaphones.

The chatter was electric.

Mariah whistled low. "Damn. They weren't kidding about the match hype."

My stomach dropped. "Six p.m?"

Then the bell rang.

"Well," she sighed, throwing her braid over her shoulder, "let's go act like responsible adults."

"Let's try," I corrected.

She shot me a wink. "Always."

And just like that, we split, her heading toward her business lecture, me weaving through the crowd toward mine.

The clamor of the classroom faded into a dull roar behind me. My pen hovered over my notebook, tracing lazy circles I barely registered. Every glance at my phone made my stomach do little somersaults, and yet... There was nothing. No message from him. Not even a "hey." Had I imagined all of yesterday? Was I reading too much into things?

The minutes dragged, every tick of the clock magnified. I caught myself glancing toward the door again and again, my mind replaying every little thing, the way he'd smiled, the teasing lilt in his voice, that moment in the car... and the memory made my pulse spike.

By the time the bell finally rang, a herd of students practically surged toward the exits. I stuffed my notebook into my bag, shoulders tense, only to feel a familiar tug at my elbow.

"Nyelleeee," Mariah's grin was mischievous, almost wicked. She had that spark in her eyes that meant she had a plan, and my stomach tightened because I knew it probably involved me.

Before I could protest, she yanked me toward the bathroom, weaving through clusters of students with ease. The scent of the school hallway, stale coffee, lockers, and faint perfume gave way to the humid, slightly antiseptic air of the girls' bathroom. Mariah shoved me gently toward the sink, her hands already fishing through a bag she'd brought.