Boys Like Him

Old me

The morning came soft and slow, sunlight filtering through the blinds in lazy golden stripes that warmed my cheek before my eyes even opened. For a moment, I floated in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, my body heavy with the kind of deep rest that comes after a night of pure release. The sheets tangled around my legs felt like a cocoon, and the faint ache between my thighs pulsed gently with every small shift.

Blissfully sore.

I stretched slowly, savoring the pull in my muscles, where his mouth had left marks that were probably blooming faint purple now.

Nate and Mariah had dropped me off around two, their teasing echoing in the car the whole way, Mariah demanding details I dodged with flushed laughs, Nate just grinning like he knew everything anyway.

I'd floated up the stairs in a daze, unlocked the door, and collapsed into bed without even changing. The high hadn't faded, it had carried me straight into dreams where his touch replayed in endless, heated loops.

Now, fully awake, I rolled onto my side. My room felt different, warmer, like the sunlight had soaked into the walls. No knot of anxiety twisted in my chest, no second-guessing replaying in my head. Just a quiet, glowing contentment that made me want to burrow deeper and relive every second.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, heart already fluttering with that silly, eager anticipation.

The screen lit up with notifications scattered like confetti.

But my eyes zeroed in on his name.

Four messages.

From 3:47 a.m.

Made it home safe?

A smile tugged at my lips.

Then 3:52.

that thing you did with your hips... f**k. goodnight, Nyelle.

Heat bloomed low in my belly. I pressed my thighs together against the ache, remembering exactly what he meant the way I'd ground back against him in the woods, chasing friction without shame.

4:01

sweet dreams. can't wait to see you soon.

I bit my lip, rereading them twice, three times, letting the words sink in like sunlight on skin.

I typed back before overthinking could creep in.

Just woke up. still sore. blissfully so.

Hit send.

The dots appeared almost instantly.

Good morning to me then.

I laughed, curling deeper into the sheets.

thinking about you too. a lot.

yeah? Tell me more. He responded

Heat spread through me, pooling between my legs. My free hand drifted down without thinking, fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive skin there.

Maybe later. in person.

tease. But deal.

I set the phone down, grinning at the ceiling like an i***t.

The soreness throbbed gently.

Last night wasn't a mistake.

It was a revelation.

And I couldn't wait for whatever came next.

---

The afternoon dragged like it was trying to punish me.

I tried to study, really tried. Notes were open, highlighter in hand, laptop glowing with half-finished assignments. But every paragraph blurred after two lines. My mind kept drifting back to the woods.

My phone sat beside me, silent now after the morning texts.

I kept glancing at it.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Dreading.

When it finally buzzed, I snatched it up too fast.

door's open. Come over when you're ready.

My stomach flipped, a mix of thrill and nerves.

I stared at the message longer than I should have.

Ready for what?

I didn't ask.

I stood up slowly from the edge of the bed, my heart already beating a little faster than usual. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then reached down to smooth my shirt, erasing the faint creases that had formed while I'd been sitting there, lost in thought.

I crossed the room to the full-length mirror propped against the wall. I checked my reflection, tilting my head slightly, scanning for anything out of place. I turned my face side to side, adjusting the fall of my collar, smoothing an invisible wrinkle along my shoulder. I ran my fingers lightly along the line of my jaw. The safe, neat twist I'd pinned my hair into this morning looked too controlled now. Too much like the old me.

Then, almost without permission. I reached up and pulled the pins from my hair one by one, letting them drop softly onto the dresser with tiny metallic clinks. The restrained twist unraveled in a slow cascade, dark strands tumbling over my shoulders, brushing against my neck and collarbones like silk. I shook my head gently, watching the waves settle into place, framing my face. Emboldened by that rush, I turned to the closet, skimmed past the safe choice, the modest dresses, the high necklines, and landed instead on the one I'd bought on a whim months ago and never dared to wear. Deep crimson, cut lower than anything I usually allowed myself, with thin straps and a fit that clung just enough to hint rather than reveal outright. Provocative, yes, but elegant too. I slipped out of my shirt and stepped into it. I adjusted the neckline carefully, low enough to draw the eye, then turned back to the mirror. The confident part of me smiled back, approving.

Finally, I sat at the small vanity and picked up the tube of lip gloss, clear with the faintest rose tint. I uncapped it slowly, the familiar sweet vanilla scent rising as I swept the wand across my lower lip first, then the upper, pressing them together to spread the glossy sheen evenly. I blotted lightly, then applied another layer for good measure, thicker this time, until my lips looked plump and glistening, impossible to ignore.

I stood again, took one last look, and felt that confident spark bloom. I grabbed my keys and left before I could talk myself out of it.

The hallway felt longer than usual. His door was at the end, in the same building, on the opposite side. I'd passed it a hundred times without thinking.

Now it felt like walking toward a cliff.

I knocked.

The door opened almost immediately.

He filled the frame, sweatpants low on his hips, T-shirt clinging to his chest as he'd just worked out. Hair was damp and pushed back.

"Hey," he mumbled.

"Hey."

He stepped aside, letting me in.

His apartment hit me with his scent. It was cleaner than I expected. Basketball shoes lined up by the door. Trophies on a shelf. A gaming setup in the corner. Big TV. A couch that looked too comfortable.

He closed the door behind me.

I turned, suddenly aware of how alone we were.

He didn't move closer. Just watched me, arms crossed loosely.

"You came."

"You asked."

He grinned. "Hungry?"

I shook my head.

He nodded, like he expected that.

I shifted my weight. "So... this is your place."

"Yeah." He pushed off the door, walking past me toward the kitchen. "Want water?"

"Sure."

He grabbed two bottles from the fridge and handed me one.

Our fingers brushed.

I took a sip, my throat suddenly dry.

He leaned against the counter, eyes on me.

"You've been quiet since this morning."

I shrugged. "Assignments."

He tilted his head. "That's all?"

My pulse picked up. "What do you mean?"

He set his bottle down. "Last night was... intense."