Chapter 3
1235 Words
~ Aaliyah's pov ~
The walk from campus didn’t take that long, but by the time I get to Tyler’s building, my fingers are freezing.
I stop at the front door of his shared apartment and take a breath.
You decided this, I remind myself. You’re going to do it. It’s fine. Couples have s*x. This is normal.
I pull out my phone and check our chat.
My last message to him is still sitting there.
Aaliyah:
On my way. Got a surprise for you.
There’s just one gray tick, meaning the message was delivered, but he hasn’t opened it yet. Same thing with the message I sent earlier while I was still on campus.
I sent this one after deciding to walk straight here instead of going home to change. I didn’t want my mom asking questions about my plans for tonight or for Christmas break because, honestly, I have no plans except:
1. Lose my virginity to Tyler
2. Find a part-time job during the holiday to help with bills at home
If my mom knew that was my whole plan, she would lose her mind.
I sigh and put my phone away. The network around here is trash sometimes, so I'll try not to overthink things. Also, Tyler is probably playing games with his friends online and isn’t close to his phone. That part wouldn’t shock me.
With that thought, I push the door open and start climbing the stairs.
On the second floor, I pause in front of his door and smooth my hair out a little. He always said my pixie cut could be so much prettier if I took better care of it because, according to him, it’s the highlight of my looks.
I scoff at the memory and raise my hand to knock on the door. But then I hear something inside, a faint beat coming through the door. It’s an R&B song with a heavy bass.
I frown right away, because this basically kills the idea that he’s gaming. He always complains about every tiny sound when he’s playing online. If someone sneezes too loud outside, he pauses the game and gets dramatic about it. There is no way he would blast music like this on purpose.
I press my lips together and push that thought aside for now, then knock on the door.
There is no answer.
I knock again, louder this time. “Tyler? It’s me,” I call.
Still nothing.
The music keeps going, but I don’t hear him moving around. No footsteps. No voice. No sound that even tells me someone is inside.
My stomach does this weird little flip.
I take out my phone again. My message is still on one gray tick. I sigh and decide to try calling him instead.
It rings and rings and then cuts off.
At first, my stomach jumps as I start to panic, thinking maybe something has happened to him. But then I force myself to calm down. Tyler forgets things easily. And judging from the way he texted me earlier, sending me porn in the middle of my exam, he probably meant for us to meet tonight, not in the middle of the afternoon.
It is totally possible he stepped out to buy something.
I sigh and look around, thinking about what I should do.
The truth is even if he is not back yet, I can wait. Maybe surprise him. Maybe even start the process of setting the mood for tonight. The thought makes my chest flutter a little and I giggle.
Feeling more excited now, I pull out the small silver key on my keyring. It is the spare key he gave me months ago, after the night we got caught in the rain.
He had gotten drunk at the bar, and when he called me to pick him up, I took an Uber to get him. It was only after the Uber dropped us off that we realized he had lost his key. We were stuck outside for almost two hours in the rain before his landlady finally came to rescue us.
After that night, he gave me a spare key just in case it ever happened again.
I unlock the door and step inside.
The apartment is warm and smells like his cologne mixed with something else.
Sweat.
I scrunch my nose as I step deeper inside. The living room is dim, and only the small lamp in the corner is glowing.
Tyler’s coat is thrown on the couch like he peeled it off and dropped it mid-walk. And his favorite shoes are by the door, the ones he never wears unless he is trying to look nice for an outing.
I frown. He usually puts these things in his closet before stepping out. Not because he’s neat, but because I threatened to stop cleaning his place for him if he didn’t at least try to maintain it.
I sigh and walk further in, deciding to check if maybe he’s asleep, or in the bathroom, or somewhere in the house.
“Tyler?” I call out. “You home? It’s me. Aaliyah.”
No response.
The music is louder in here, so loud that it almost feels like it is vibrating through the floor. I walk toward the speaker because I want to turn it down before one of his neighbors complains again. They already hate him because of how loud he talks on the phone.
I am halfway there when I hear something else.
At first, it sounds like part of the music. But then I stop walking, and the sound comes again.
A muffled moan.
I freeze for a moment, then blink a few times, waiting to see if the noise repeats or if I am just losing my mind.
But it comes again. Clearer this time.
That is definitely a girl’s voice. And it’s coming from the hallway that leads to Tyler's bedroom.
My heart drops so fast it feels like it hits the floor.
No.
I must be hearing wrong. Someone on the TV. Tyler's probably left a movie playing or something...
But then I hear him.
Tyler.
His voice is lower than usual, rougher, like he only sounds when he is trying to be sexy. He says something I cannot make out, and then I hear her giggle like she is having the time of her life.
My throat goes completely dry.
This is real. This is actually happening.
I shake my head.
He wouldn’t. He wouldn't do this.
Not after sending me that porn video in the middle of my exam and telling me to be ready tonight.
Not after months of talking about “when we finally do it.”
He wouldn’t. Right?
My hand starts shaking so badly that I have to press it against my thigh to steady it.
I should leave. I know I should.
I should turn around, open the door, walk out, go home, and block him everywhere.
But something inside me refuses.
It’s like this stubborn part of my brain wants to see the truth with my own eyes.
Like I need proof, because my mind is already trying to make excuses for him.
Before I even realize it, my feet move.
A moment later I reach the bedroom doorway, my stomach twisting so hard I feel sick.
I look inside.
And everything in me just… stops.
- Writer
