Obsessed with the Heartbreaker: An MM College Romance, page 19
He deserved everything.
Antony was steadily fucking himself back against me, the feeling of his need increasing my own, and when I felt way too close to my orgasm, I started jerking him off, making him cry out from overstimulation. I didn’t stop until he came all over my hand, and as his tight, glorious asshole contracted all around me, I spilled inside the condom. Selfishly, I imagined spilling into him, each rope of come a dirty promise for more, a promise of forever.
Panting, we both laid down, me carefully pulling out and throwing away the condom on my trusty trashcan. Then I didn’t resist the urge to pull Antony against me, holding him tight, his face on my throat and his strong arms around me.
This is it, the monster in my head said.
This was everything I’d ever wanted.
Antony was trembling a bit, probably from the intensity of our fuck, and God, what did it say about us that each time it felt like this? Mind-blowing, world-ending, heart-shattering.
I could only hold him tighter in response, caressing his back and whispering sweet nothings, calling him darling, because I couldn’t not. He was the most dearest person to me.
And I was in fucking love with him.
“Jesus, sorry,” he said when he managed to calm down.
“Never apologize for this,” I told him, kissing the side of his head and continuing with my soft, soothing motions.
Antony was silent for a long moment, and then, voice small and ragged, he said, “I never want this to stop.”
My throat closed up, overwhelmed with emotion, and I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
I felt the exact same way, but whether it was today, tomorrow, or the next, reality was going to come crashing down on us, and we were both going to be collateral.
So I just held him close. For as long as I could. And for just one more day, I kept my eyes and ears closed and pretended it was okay to love the most wonderful guy in the world.
Chapter 30
Antony
Things had inevitably changed. It was impossible for me to deny what this feeling inside me was when I thought about Henry, which was all the time. It was futile to pretend that all along, I hadn’t been in love with him, and now that I finally could admit it to myself, it was when I felt on the verge of losing him.
So, suffice it to say, the next day, I felt like a ghost. I’d had my suspicions that Henry knew—just like Maddox had suspected—that I’d had secret motivations to reach out to him in the beginning. It had obviously not been because my moral convictions had compelled me to do so, and instead, my reasoning had everything to do with the selfish desire to be in Henry’s life at any cost. To slither my way into it, however briefly, just so I could get over the pain in my chest every time I caught sight of him across campus. Connell’s favor had been the perfect excuse, and even if Henry didn’t know the specifics, after our conversation yesterday, I was more than sure that he did know something about my secret motivations.
I’d wanted to tell him. I really had. And yet I hadn’t been able to resist him (nor had I wanted to) when he started kissing me softly like that, seducing me in the best way possible, trying to close his eyes to the reality of the world, and like a fool, I’d wanted to do the same. And we had.
And now everything was worse.
Today, I had my interview with the top company I’d selected. This was the best chance for me to get the career I desired, it would be the golden ticket towards my future, because even if I wasn’t as charismatic, well-spoken, or accomplished in many areas as other future candidates, this company’s name would speak for me.
And of course, it went horribly.
Getting into the tall, majestic building, going up the elevators with people whose suits were worth more than the average person’s salary, and sitting stoically in the waiting room, I’d been trying to push away all of my thoughts about Henry. I’d been trying to forget about the lies between us, the desperation and need that had permeated our love-making, and I’d tried to embody the version of myself that I’d always wanted to be. I tried to become, even for just twenty minutes, the person who could get this internship easily, effortlessly, the type of guy who didn’t even worry about his future because doors were always open to him, who was worthy of having such successful loving parents and would have their hard work bear fruit.
But I couldn’t. All along, I couldn’t stop thinking about how worthless I felt. That I wasn’t good enough. I felt like a fake, a fluke, and a liar, because I would never be this perfect guy, the one I thought would make his parents proud with his accomplishments and be able to give back to them for all their love and hard work. The one for whom it was easy to be successful, that had a life and a career. The one that would make even the Campbells proud, who would repay their kindness tenfold and prove their generosity had been well-deserved. It was fighting against the current to pretend I was something I wasn’t and I just felt so tired. Tired of trying to justify my existence.
As I spoke to the interviewer, spine straight and forced smile on, I thought of my parents. My mother, who had made a name for herself even when she hadn’t had a higher education. My father, a recognized hero firefighter who left this world while doing his duty. My sister, who had become a star chef through sheer stubbornness and grit.
I was so nervous and desperate to prove myself that I completely blew it. Every word felt wrong in my mouth. Every twitch on the interviewer’s face felt like a sign of doom. A dark cloud was forming over my head.
I was getting in my head and I knew it. But I couldn’t stop it.
Because I realized I would never feel good enough.
Not for my parents to be proud of me.
Not to justify and repay Connell and his wife’s kindness in paying for half my tuition.
And not for Henry. Not to stay by his side in the long term.
So as the interview finished, I went out of the room with heavier shoulders. I caught a glimpse of none other than Keller, who was also applying for the internship, and instead of waiting for one of his cutting remarks, I left him there without a word.
Once outside, walking quickly down the sidewalk without direction, I wondered why I was doing any of it. Why I was trying to prove myself to the world like this when it felt like a losing battle. Why I was depriving myself of having a life.
What did it have to matter if I wouldn’t be as good as my parents or sister? So what, if I got a less prestigious job where I could quietly spend my days, have some work colleagues that were easy to tolerate, have work-friends I could have an enjoyable lunch with, and then go home to the friends and family I loved?
It wouldn’t be so bad.
I hoped it wouldn’t be.
But what would be absolutely terrible was not seeing Henry ever again. Not having him as part of my life. Having to content myself with seeing him once a year at the most, when he forced himself to go visit his parents, and having to be satisfied with being on the receiving end of one of his nods from the other side of the road.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The sound of cars, the passerby’s hurried steps, the breeze in my ears, all of it faded as one thought in my mind shone like a beacon with terrifying clarity.
I was in love with Henry Campbell.
And I was going to tell him.
After avoiding getting shoulder-checked by some hurried businessmen, I moved to the side of a building I didn’t even recognize and got my phone.
It rang only twice before a voice came.
“Connell Campbell.”
“Hello, sir. Is this a bad time?”
It was mid-afternoon. I hadn’t even considered whether Connell might already be done with his work at this hour, but I’d called his house landline, so if he’d picked up, it would be because he was likely done with it.
“Antony! Not at all. But wait, let me—One second.” There was the faint sound of him walking and closing a door behind him, likely the one in his study. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is…” I trailed off.
No. Things weren’t okay. And, for once in my life, I wasn’t going to lie about it. “I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Is this about Henry?”
“It is. I wanted to talk to you about the…favor you asked of me.” Taking one deep breath, I decided to be as blunt as possible. “I can’t do it.”
“What do you mean? Is my son giving you trouble? I know it’s hard work, but it’s not something that I need you to do in two days or two months—”
“No sir, I—I just won’t do it. I don’t think following your footsteps is in Henry’s best interest.”
And I’d never been willing to convince him otherwise in the first place. Henry was many things, but a rule-follower was not one of them. The Heartbreaker everyone knew and loved was made to soar all on his own, carve his own path, discover his own passions and motivations by himself. Not forced by worried parents who wouldn’t look close enough to realize their son was perfect just the way he was.
Henry deserved the best, and if I could help him in some way, it would be by making Connell see that.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. My son is a tough nut to crack, but I’ll talk to him myself, he’ll see it’s the right thing to do and it will be fine—”
“No, it will not be fine, Connell.”
For the first time, ever, I used his first name. I’d always admired and respected this man, who had always been kind and generous with me, but the one who had to see the truth of the situation, who had to open his eyes, was him.
“I know you want what’s best for him, but this is the wrong way. Henry is one of the smartest people I know, and although academically he might not be what you wished him to be, he’s perfectly capable of making his own way through the world. In fact, I know he will. Henry’s methodical, thoughtful, has a way with words and with people and he inspires everyone around him to want to do better. To follow him and trust him. And most of all, he already has enough friends and people who support him that will guide him through the decisions about his future that he needs to take, which you would know if you actually talked to him and listened, not as the father who tells his son what to do and how to do it, but as an equal. It’s the least he deserves, and if you ever want to repair your relationship with him, you’ll have to do it.”
The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. I felt near panting after my heated rant. Because, God, I may have ruined every chance I had with Henry or maybe there had never even been a chance for us to work to begin with, but if I knew one thing, it was that Henry deserved everything. And I wanted to give it to him.
“I see you have many feelings about this.”
“I do.”
“Well, I…Thank you for your words. They’ve given me a lot to think about.”
It was a noncommittal statement if I ever heard one, the words of a businessman, but right now, I didn’t even care. With a curt goodbye, I hung up and breathed in deeply, staring at the world with different eyes.
My chest still felt heavy with everything I hadn’t told Henry, but I was going to get that dealt with very soon.
Tonight.
Chapter 31
Henry
Staring sightlessly at the landline phone in my parents’ house, my ears rang. My entire world had shifted. I felt unmoored, almost faint. Antony’s words were like bells going off again and again in my mind, deafening and terrible, and there it was. The truth I’d been trying to avoid. The reason why Antony had approached me in the first place.
My father.
A favor.
My compliance.
I wasn’t stupid. I could read between the lines. As soon as I’d heard Antony’s words, my mind had started working, going through every single interaction we’d had in the past few weeks, and I knew with certainty that Antony had never tried to convince me of following my father’s footsteps. All along, he’d been encouraging me to do what I wanted, to look at my options without the layer of resentment that had always covered my eyes, and actually think for myself. Choose for myself.
I should have seen this coming.
There needed to have been a strong enough reason for Antony to have forced himself to come see me, even after so many years of avoiding each other. To make it necessary to climb through the walls we’d put in there once and for all.
And what could be stronger, than Antony’s need to somehow repay my parents’ kindness?
It was sick.
It made me sick.
My grip hardened mercilessly on the phone, making the plastic crack and threaten to break.
The worst of all was that I was angry for Antony. That even now, I only resented my father more, making my knuckles hurt with the urge to rage and send my fist through one of their pristine walls.
When my father came out of his study and saw me with the phone, he had the gall to look surprised. Did he think for a moment that after hearing Antony’s name I wouldn’t pick up the other phone to listen?
Call it fate.
Call it terrible luck.
Or call it an instinctual leaning towards emotional masochism, because somehow, today, when my mother called, I picked up. When she asked me to pay her and my father a visit, I said yes.
And right now, I could almost hear the universe cruelly laughing at my situation.
“You heard that?”
“Every word.”
My father nodded solemnly, like I was giving him bad news about an investment.
“You shouldn’t resent Antony—”
“Resenting him? After you put him between the sword and the wall?”
My father scoffed. “It was hardly a demand, I just requested it, and if he was willing—”
“No. You requested it of him because you know as well as I do that Antony is moral to a fault. That he harbored wishes to give back to you after you and Mom decided to help him, without him asking you to, to pay his tuition. That he has always respected and admired you both, that he’s a good guy, and that he was obviously going to say yes.”
The walls in my parents’ house, all pale and full of art, made to be airy and welcoming, felt like they were closing in on me. This had never been my home, not really, since they’d moved here once I was already in boarding school, and even during the last year of high school in which I came to live here, it never managed to feel like it.
I’d never had a true home.
And never had it been truer than when my father, with dark eyes that reminded me way too much of my own, looked straight at me and said the following words.
“It wasn’t because of that.”
“Then why was it?”
“I asked him, Henry, because I knew that if there was one single person on this planet that you’d ever listen to, it would be him.”
There.
The metaphorical knife was now deep inside my chest.
Right for the heart.
Nostrils flaring, I tried to speak, but I couldn’t.
How could he?
My father had been aware for a long time of my feelings for Antony. Even before I could put them into words.
On that fateful day in which I’d kissed Antony in my backyard, laying on the grass, he’d seen us.
My father had come early from work, tired and moody, stomping around the house, and there had I been, the son that was already showing too many signs of being the absolute opposite of what he wanted me to be.
Kissing the guy who he’d always wanted me to be like. The ideal version of me that would never be.
Antony had left quickly, embarrassed and flushed, and once I’d entered my house, my father’s cutting words had been there, ready for me.
“You won’t get involved with Antony.”
“Why? What’s it to you?”
“I’m telling you, Henry. You will not.”
“You should know by now, Father, that I’m not good at following orders.”
“Can’t you just do one thing right? You can have anyone you want, but don’t mess with him. He’s not another toy for you to play with, he’s a good guy.”
“What if I don’t want to hurt him? To play with him?”
Obviously, my father had thought that to me, it would just be a fling. Or maybe he’d hoped. But when my expression had started betraying the deep hurt and longing I felt for Antony, his expression had shifted from anger to pity.
“Oh, Henry.”
“Shut up.”
“Henry—”
I’d turned around, not willing to hear what he had to say, but he said it anyway.
“He’s not for you, Henry. He never will be.”
Truest words had never been spoken. A truth I’d already known then but I’d wanted to deny, naive and hopeful still.
Now I wasn’t anymore.
“So you used him against me,” I said, back in the current moment, back to feeling the bleeding wound in my chest.
It might be metaphorical, but it still hurt like a bitch.
“I did the only thing I could—”
“No. You used Antony against me, the only person who ever actually cared about me as a person and not a vessel for his hopes and wishes, and all for what? To get the same result. Nothing.”
Well, nothing as well as shattering my heart into a million tiny pieces. Now it was well and truly broken.
My father saw his mistake on my face.
“Listen, Henry. We can talk about this. I know I haven’t been a great father to you.”
“You haven’t been and you won’t be.”
Throwing the damned landline phone away from me and leaving it to clatter against the tiled floors, I gathered what was left of my dignity and turned to leave.
