Boys Like Him

Hard to look away

I barely made it three steps before he was in front of me.

The noise around us blurred into a dull throb.

"You came," he mumbled.

I tilted my head, suddenly aware of how warm my skin felt, and how the cropped fabric hugged my ribs in a way I wasn't used to. "You sound surprised."

His mouth twitched. "I was... cautiously hopeful."

That earned a breathy laugh from me before I could stop it.

"You look..." He stopped himself, exhaled through his nose. "I'm glad you're here."

Something about the restraint in that simple sentence did more to me than any smooth line could have.

Behind me, Mariah whooped loudly, already dancing with Nate near the makeshift bar, and I felt the vibration of the bass under my soles. Lloyd shifted slightly, angling his body so I wasn't directly in the path of people brushing past.

"I owe you a drink," he said, nodding toward my empty hands. "Or food. Or... space, if that's what you want."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're very polite for someone who just dominated a rivalry game."

He laughed then. "Coach says I'm allowed to be a menace on the court. Everywhere else, I try to behave."

"Try," I echoed.

"Keyword," he agreed, eyes glinting.

He handed me a red cup a moment later. I didn't see him pour it, didn't see where it came from, just suddenly it was there, cold against my palm. I took a sip. Juice. Sweet, barely alcoholic. Thoughtful.

We stood there for a minute, swaying slightly to the music without actually dancing. People kept glancing over-some curious, some amused, some openly whispering but the longer I stayed, the less it mattered. The knot in my stomach loosened. My shoulders dropped. My breathing evened out.

"So," he drawled, leaning in just enough that I could hear him clearly without shouting. "Am I working my way out of the doghouse?"

I studied his face, really studied it this time. The faint crease between his brows when he waited.

"You're... improving," I replied carefully.

A grin broke across his face. "I'll take it."

Someone bumped into me from behind, sloshing my drink. Before I could react, Lloyd stepped in, placing a hand lightly at my elbow to steady me. The contact was brief.

But my skin lit up like it had been waiting for it.

He pulled his hand back immediately.

"Sorry."

I swallowed. "It's okay."

Across the room, Mariah caught my eye and wiggled her eyebrows dramatically. I rolled mine in response, but my smile betrayed me.

Lloyd followed my gaze. "She seems... formidable."

"That's one word for it."

The music shifted, and the crowd surged toward the center of the room. Lloyd glanced at the movement, then back at me.

"No pressure," he began. "But if you want to dance... I promise not to step on your feet."

I hesitated.

Then I nodded.

His smile softened.

He led me into the crowd without holding my hand, just guiding with his shoulder, positioning himself so I didn't get swallowed up. When the space finally closed around us, and the music loud enough to erase thought, he turned to face me.

Still no touching.

So I moved first.

Just a sway. A small one. Testing the ground.

He mirrored me, matching my rhythm until it felt less like dancing and more like conversation without words. The bass vibrated through my chest, my hips, my thighs. Lights flashed red, then blue, then gold.

I laughed when I caught him watching me instead of the room.

"What?" I shouted.

He leaned in, mouth close to my ear.

"I didn't know you were this dangerous," he cooed.

Heat rushed up my neck. "Dangerous?"

"Yeah," he replied, eyes dark. "You make it very hard to look away."

The music shifted, and somehow we drifted closer without either of us deciding to.

His hand hovered on my hips, careful like he was bracing for me to pull away. I didn't. My breath caught instead, a small hitch I couldn't hide, and he drew me in just a little more, the space between us dissolving into warmth.

My stomach tightened with that bright, nervous thrill that fluttered. I could feel him behind me now, the line of his body fitting to mine in a way that felt too natural for comfort. My back brushed his chest. My hips found the rhythm without thinking.

He leaned down, lips close enough that his breath skimmed my ear.

"Is this okay?" he asked, voice roughened by the music.

I nodded. He didn't push further, just rested his hand more firmly. The respect in it made my chest ache.

I felt the unmistakable, firm pressure of him pressing against my hip. My breath hitched in a way that had nothing to do with the music. A traitorous thrill shot straight to my core, and for a fleeting, reckless moment, my mind wandered.

I wondered what it would feel like to have that heat without the barrier of denim and silk. I wondered if his movements would be just as steady and commanding if we were behind closed doors. My body was already answering for me, my skin flushing and my pulse drumming a frantic rhythm against his palm.

The spell was shattered by the sharp feedback of a microphone.

"Let's hear it one more time for the man of the hour!" the MC's voice boomed through the ballroom.

The bubble popped. I stepped back, the sudden rush of cool air between us feeling like a physical loss. I caught the flicker of something dark and hungry in his eyes before he masked it with a practiced, charming smile. As the applause swelled around us, I didn't miss the way he turned slightly, his hand darting down for a split second to discreetly adjust the fit of his slacks.

I let a slow, knowing smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. I saw you, I thought, and the heat in my cheeks deepened.

Before he could regain his footing, a pack of men descended on him like a wolf pack, whistling and "woo-ing" loud enough to draw stares.

"Look at this guy!" one of them barked, slapping him on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser man. "Hiding the best part of the party in the corner, are we?"

He chuckled, though his hand stayed protectively near the small of my back, a possessive gesture that didn't go unnoticed by his friends.

"Ease up, fellas," he retorted, his voice regaining that smooth, effortless gravel. He turned to me, his gaze softening just enough to make my heart skip. "Nyelle, meet the anchors weighing down my life. This is Julian, Marcus, and Theo."

"So, this is the famous Nyelle," Marcus cackled, grinning as he took my hand with an exaggerated bow. "He's been checked out of the conversation since you walked in the room. Nice to see his taste is finally improving."

I laughed, feeling the weight of their curiosity and the underlying warmth of the introduction. For the next twenty minutes, I was swept into his world, a whirlwind of inside jokes, high-stakes ribbing, and the kind of effortless brotherhood that spoke of years of history.

By the time he finished introducing me to his circle, my head was already buzzing from the sheer overload of it all.

Names blurred together, handshakes, smiles. They clapped Lloyd on the back hard enough to jostle me. Someone else shouted something I couldn't hear over the music, and laughed anyway. Cups were refilled without me remembering asking. The air inside the house felt thick with bodies, perfume, sweat, heat, and sound.

I smiled when I was supposed to. Laughed when it felt expected. Nodded along to conversations that kept drifting just out of reach.

Lloyd was pulled one way, then another. Teammates slung arms over his shoulders, yelling over the music, replaying moments from the game with wild gestures and raised voices. He looked alive in that space, glowing with adrenaline, and even as a part of me liked seeing him like that, another part quietly realized I didn't quite belong in the center of it.

Mariah disappeared not long after, swept up by Nate and a group of girls who immediately claimed her like she was one of theirs. I caught a glimpse of her laughing, head thrown back, completely at home.

And suddenly, I was standing alone.

I took another sip of my drink and felt my stomach twist. The noise pressed in harder. Someone brushed past me, fingers grazing my arm, and I flinched without meaning to. My chest felt tight, like the walls were inching closer.

I needed air.

"I'll be right back," I muttered to no one in particular, already stepping away before I could second-guess myself.

The door to the backyard stuck for a second before giving way, and the difference hit me immediately.

Cool night air washed over my face, damp and clean compared to the heavy warmth inside. I sucked in a breath like I'd been underwater too long. The music dulled behind me, reduced to a distant thump, like a heartbeat through walls.

I walked a little farther out, sneakers crunching softly against gravel, and leaned my elbows against the low fence.

I closed my eyes, and the knot in my chest loosened enough for me to breathe properly again.