Prompt: I'm not your boyfriend, baby
This was supposed to mean nothing. Just a casual means for two troubled teens to get laid without the complications of emotions. It was literally just sex between two people who aren't even friends. You weren't meant to fall in love.
You see him with her, kissing her and flirting with her, and it makes anger rage away inside you. You know you don't have the right to feel this way, but you do. And you hate it. When you casually mention it to him later, in between late night kisses that he trails down your neck which almost make you lose your train of thought, he just says 'I'm not your boyfriend, baby', and his lips meet yours again and this time, in the ecstasy of the moment, you do forget.
He leaves the bed as soon as he has caught his breath. Rolling off of you, he picks up his clothes and makes to leave.
"This was fun, but I gotta go. See ya round."
A needle of hurt pricks you in the heart.
Hesitantly, but hopefully, you speak up. "You could stay, you know. If you didn't want to sneak back to your room And run the risk of getting caught."
You regret saying it. He gives you the strangest of looks, like you've suddenly gone mental or something.
"I'm not your boyfriend, baby," is all he says.
The needle of hurt pricks deeper.
He ignores you during school. He used to wink, sometimes he'd even stop for a snog or a flirt. For some reason, today you get nothing. You know he owes you no emotional obligation, but you had a really bad day and you think that night he might have at least asked why you turned up to class looking like you'd been crying for the last hour (which you had), or at least acknowledged that you were a human being not just a person that provided free sex.
As if he could tell what you were thinking, he just undoes the buttons in your shirt without making eye contact and says, "I'm not your boyfriend, baby."
You expected it, but it still hurt.
The needle is driven deeper.
The final straw is when he doesn't turn up. It's pathetic, but you just can't ignore the sinking feeling. It's not his fault you're bloody in love with him.
At school you ignore him. You brush past him in the halls, ignore the notes he sent you in history, and refute all attempts of his to talk to you.
Eventually, he grabs your arm as you attempt to walk past, and he pulls you into a little alcove. He runs a hand through his hair and it's all you can do not to swoon.
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I wasn't coming last night. I meant to, it's just something came up...I still see you next week though, yeah?"
A few weeks ago, you would have just accepted this excuse, smiled and told him it was fine and that you'd see him next time. A part of you still wants that. The other, stronger, part of you has other ideas.
You smile bitterly. "It's okay. What is it you always say? 'I'm not your boyfriend, baby'? Well, guess what, you're right. You have no obligation to tell me anything because apparently as a shag buddy and not the girlfriend, I'm not even worth common human decency. So, whatever, it's not like I stayed up for you or anything. Don't bother coming next week."
And you walk off, leaving him behind with a very bewildered expression on his face. The hurt is still there, but you feel slightly less like his own personal dormat now. You smile.