Boys Like Him

Mariah's cackle died mid-breath, and her grin curved into something positively wicked. "Oh! My! God!" Her cackle rang through the apartment as she swung the door open wider. "Ohhh, Nyelle," she sang, drawing out my name as if she'd just won the lottery. "Your neighbors are hot."

I whipped around, my heart leaping to my throat. That sinking feeling slammed into me again, harder this time, because there he was.

The guy from earlier. He was still shirtless, but his earbuds were gone now. Standing in the doorway with a plastic takeout bag dangling from one hand.

And me? Standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but a Lacey bra and my old running shorts, skin still flushed from unpacking in the sweltering heat. My first instinct was to dive behind the nearest stack of boxes, but it was too late, his eyes had already flicked over, pausing long enough to heat my skin from the inside out before sliding away again. Indifferent. Like I was nothing more than a blurry background object.

Which, somehow, made it worse.

I pulled the blanket off the couch so fast it nearly knocked over the lamp, clutching it around me like some desperate toga.

"Well, hello there, neighbor," Mariah teased loudly, leaning on the frame like she was auditioning for a rom-com. "You here to welcome us with pie, or are abs your housewarming gift?"

"Mariah," I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at her, but it only made her grin widen.

"I think your food's here." He finally spoke.

Sure enough, he held up a plastic bag with the logo of the Thai place down the street printed across it. He extended the bag toward me with an unreadable expression. "The delivery guy left it with me, and the receipt had your apartment number. Thought I'd bring it over."

His voice was deeper than I expected. Controlled too, no fumbling like mine always did when strangers were involved.

I reached out with trembling fingers, yanking the bag from him like it was some kind of lifeline. "Th-thank you," I muttered, clutching it to my chest.

Mariah's grin was wide enough to swallow the moon. "What's your name, neighbor?"

His gaze flicked from her to me, then back again. If he noticed the blanket and the frantic way I wouldn't meet his eyes, he didn't let on.

"Lloyd." And with that, he turned, walking back down the hall without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Mariah shut the door with exaggerated slowness, then spun toward me like she was winding up for a performance. "Lloyd," she repeated in a dreamy sigh. "Even his name sounds illegal."

I groaned into the blanket. "Can we not?"

"Not? Babe, that man was a walking thirst trap."

"Please stop talking."

She ignored me completely, fanning herself. "I swear, if I die of heatstroke, it won't be the AC. It'll be him. Tall, quiet, and oh so sinful!"

I peeked out from under the blanket, glaring. "You are insufferable."

She grinned. "And you're blushing."

I wasn't... I totally was. My cheeks burned so hot it felt like my skin could light up the whole room. The image of him, the casual confidence, and the way his eyes had lingered a moment too long replayed on a loop I couldn't stop.

I groaned into the blanket, wishing I could smother myself in it.

She only laughed, kicking her legs up on the coffee table. " The man could open jars for me any day. Hell, forget jars, he could crack me open."

"Mariah!" My voice cracked with mortification, clinging to every syllable.

"What? I'm just appreciating fine art." She let out a dreamy sigh. "If I weren't already drowning in finals and didn't have an amazing boyfriend, I'd make it my part-time job to climb that man like a tree."

I peeked out from the folds of the blanket just enough to glare at her.

"You're ridiculous," I muttered, though my voice was muffled against the fabric.

She smirked, unbothered. "You're welcome. Someone has to say what you're too busy pretending not to think."

My cheeks burned hotter, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

She stretched out on the couch like a queen, sipping from her soda and watching me with a mischievous smirk. "Let me be real for a sec..." Her tone shifted into a serious one, enough to make me open my eyes. "Guys like him? They don't commit. That cold, unbothered energy? He screams heartbreak waiting to happen."

My stomach sank. She wasn't wrong. There had been something about him, his detachment, and the way he barely acknowledged us... I didn't know why, but that stung more than it should have.

She wagged her finger at me. "If you ever, ever, find yourself tangled up with him, promise me you'll be careful. I like you too much to scrape you off the floor."

"I'm not..." I started too quickly, and immediately regretted how defensive it sounded. "I'm not planning to get tangled with anyone."

She grinned. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

The greasy white bags passed between us, and the smell of fried rice and dumplings filled the apartment.

Mariah tore into hers immediately, cross-legged on the floor between a pile of unopened boxes, chopsticks clicking as she hummed her approval. "Mmm, nothing says 'new apartment' like MSG and poor life choices."

I smiled, nibbling slower, trying to keep the sauce from dripping on my only clean blanket. "You'd eat takeout for every meal if you could."

"And die happy," she shot back, waving her chopsticks.

Her ridiculousness made me laugh, the kind that slipped out before my brain could catch it. For a few minutes, it felt like the heat, mess, and even the awkwardness of earlier blurred behind the simple act of eating together.

Once the cartons were empty and stacked like trophies, Mariah clapped her hands. "Alright, back to labor."

"Slave driver," I muttered, pushing myself up.

"Slave driver who brought soda and helped haul your ass up two flights of stairs. You're welcome."

The heat made everything sluggish, and sweat clung to my skin no matter how many times I wiped at it. Still, we pushed through, unpacking box after box, rearranging furniture, trying to wrestle some semblance of order out of the chaos.

With her tossing out commentary the entire time. It was background noise I didn't know I needed. Piece by piece, the apartment began to look less like a stranger's storage unit and more like mine.

By the time night fell, a much-needed breeze snuck through the curtains, carrying with it the sound of distant traffic and the faint hum of a summer night. For the first time since morning, I exhaled.

Mariah plopped down, hair damp from sweating, eyeliner smudged but still somehow making her look effortlessly put together. "Alright, my good deed is done for the day. I'll see you Monday at school, okay? Tomorrow I'm booked solid at work."

"Thanks, Mar. For everything."

She gave me a blatant look. "Don't thank me yet. Just remember what I said about Mr. Tall, hot, and Unbothered."

We walked down the creaky stairs together, the evening air finally forgiving after the day's heat. The breeze carried a faint smell of fried food from somewhere down the block, and I thought, okay, maybe this place isn't so bad after all.

Mariah jingled her car keys, unlocking the battered little sedan she treated like royalty, and gave me a side hug.

"Goodnight, babe. Text me if you start losing your mind in all that quiet."

"Goodnight," I murmured, pulling back with a small smile.

She leaned in again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her breath tickling my ear. "Don't turn around, but Lloyd is looking at you from the balcony."

Every nerve in my body froze.

She winked, slid into her car, and drove off, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with my heart battering itself against my ribs. I didn't have to look to feel that prickle of eyes somewhere above me.

I should've walked inside, closed the door, and pretended it didn't matter.

But curiosity betrayed me. I flicked my gaze up, and he was leaning on the balcony railing, with an unreadable expression, half-shadowed by the dim porch light.

The air between us thickened until I could barely breathe.

I bolted.

More like a frantic penguin shuffle back up the steps, nearly tripping over my own feet, fumbling with the door until it finally gave way.

Once inside, I slammed it shut and pressed my back against the wood, chest heaving.