Obsessed with the Heartbreaker: An MM College Romance, page 4
I reached the building and leaned back against the wall, putting my dirty shoe against it because I was clearly a savage without manners, and set myself to wait. Watching people pass, every other person eyeing me and wondering whether to say hi or if they should take heed of my no-nonsense expression, I tried to calm the buzzing under my skin.
This was Antony’s doing.
One interaction and I wanted to pull my hair out. How had this ever seemed like a good idea?
The sight of my informant distracted me, and I took hold of the back of his T-shirt before he left to God-knew-where.
“Campbell. Jeez, you scared me, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude.”
The guy gulped. “Right. Sorry.”
People called me an asshole, a Heartbreaker, and a King for a reason. I needed to keep up appearances.
“You have what I want?”
He nodded enthusiastically, wanting to get on my good side again like an obedient puppy. “Yes, uh…Things seem to be going on as normal. Nothing nefarious going on. I haven’t seen him meet up with anyone, and, well, other than the guy in class that he usually competes with for the first spot, he definitely has no enemies.”
“Good.”
Something had been tickling my nose since Antony came. Because, why now, right? There had to be a reason. The paranoid part of my brain had conjured images of Antony being made against his will to spy on me or something, or that maybe someone was giving him trouble and he needed my help.
Only he probably wouldn’t come to me in the last case, would he? That wasn’t what we were to each other anymore.
I pulled out my wallet and took a fifty.
The guy went to get it but before he could, I pulled it back, leaving his greedy hand hanging. “Definitely no other news?”
He shook his head.
Fine.
I gave him the money.
Crumpling it messily and putting it in his back-pocket, he now seemed to have relaxed, good mood returning. “Are you and Andino enemies or something? You’ve been having me spy on him for months but…really, he might very well be the most boring guy in the world. There’s nothing interesting about him.”
My fists tightened, itching for some idiotic reason to get a hold of this dummy and teach him some manners. Why I would still feel the need to defend Antony’s honor was something that I didn’t want to look too closely at, and least of all at this guy’s request.
“None of your business. Don’t ask again.”
I didn’t even know how to put what Antony and I were into words, how could I explain it to anyone else?
We’d been neighbors, once upon a time. Or he and my parents had been, more like, since I’d been going to boarding schools for as long as I could remember. I was only spared in my last year of high school, when they allowed me to attend locally.
Antony Andino was the last person I thought about most days before I went to sleep.
The one I tried not to think about as I fucked someone’s brains out.
And the only person who had ever come close to breaking the Heartbreaker’s heart.
At one point, I’d called him a friend. Or he had, anyway, because God knows I never found a word to describe the tingly feeling I felt each time I caught sight of him.
I’d had every reason to hate him, the green-eyed guy who my parents saw fit to dote on even more than their own son. The perfect student, goodie-two-shoes, responsible, hard-working, and disciplined, where I was messy, chaotic, and rebellious.
But one look at him had told me I could never hate him.
Because he hadn’t been the arrogant entitled bastard neighbor I’d been expecting, the one I’d wanted to serve some humble pie to. Antony had looked at me, quiet but not shy, sending me a grin that made his eyes glitter, and told me with his characteristic dry humor that I looked like an eighteenth-century rake. With my hair down to my collarbones and my roguish walk. Then he’d proceeded to invite himself to sit beside me on my porch, offered me some of the ice cream he was eating, and started talking to me like we’d been lifelong friends.
I’d wanted to hate him so bad and had instead frozen in shock. Even without knowing how special this was, I’d been so ridiculously flattered for some reason that I’d simply started talking back to him, but mostly, I’d simply basked in the way his dry humor had made my heart flutter inside my chest.
I’d relived the moment in my head several times even months after, after I got to know just how rare this version of him had been.
I’d treated it like a treasure.
But that was then, and now was now.
The eyes of my informant widened at my warning before he nodded.
I was never going to get any prizes for being nice, that was for sure.
“Thanks for the payment, boss, and—Oh, wait. I didn’t know if I should mention this but…”
You couldn’t say that and not expect someone to want to know more.
My nerves were itching already. “Just say it.”
I needed time to leave and agonize by myself.
“Well, he’s been hanging out a lot with this guy, Oliver. Thought I’d just say it.”
Oliver.
I’d heard about him before.
Not because he was famous or anything, but because of Antony.
Facts I had: they shared several classes. He was also a third year. They often studied together.
And he was a wild card.
Why?
Antony only had two best friends: Scott and Eliot. The Prince, and their little spitfire sidekick. I knew that because they’d been friends forever—as Antony had well told me—and he saw them as family.
This Oliver guy, though?
I clenched my jaw.
“Well, if you find out anything else about him, let me know.”
The guy nodded and with a little wave, left.
And because I’d already messed up a lot today and couldn’t think straight, I allowed myself to feed my addiction.
I went to the library.
With near-silent steps, I entered the place.
The great walls, the smell of books and the quiet ambience welcomed me, even if they weren’t the reason that I was here.
I ignored all of the empty spots at the tables and took the long way toward the edge of the room, by the window, where the source of my frustration sat surrounded by tidy piles of books, pens, and his notebook.
Antony.
The most boring guy in the world.
My secret obsession.
I watched him, hidden between rows of books, as he wrote down his notes on pen and paper, like he always did. His desk area was tidy, organized always in the same way, with his pens in front of him, a water bottle on his right, and closed books on his left.
I kept watching as he raised his head to look out the window beside him, faint late-summer breeze caressing his hair, before he reached into his backpack and took out a small pack of nuts, his favorite healthy snack, which he ate like a naughty thief in the library, where it was forbidden to munch.
A part of me thought it was ridiculous.
The other part reminded the first one that I was the guy spying on him to begin with.
This was my problem.
Because for almost a year, I’d been spying on Antony here, in this library. After the way our ‘friendship’ ended, I’d wanted nothing to do with him. I’d wanted to forget him and his name at all costs, but it had been useless.
Then I started gathering information about him. Once we were both in college, it made sense for me to use my kingly powers of influence and money to keep up with Antony in the only way I could.
And this obsessive spying thing? This was just the lowest of the low.
It was pathetic.
Really, I would never hear the end of it if anyone found out that the Heartbreaker was somehow hung up on the most straight-laced, studious, uptight guy in this college.
And yet I was.
I couldn’t help it, even after that horrible afternoon I wished every day I could wipe out of existence.
The day I was stupid enough to kiss Antony.
I’d been nineteen and he eighteen. I’d just come to visit from college, and we were laying down in the grass in my backyard, as we used to do. I’d missed him terribly, because since we weren’t living next door anymore, I barely got to see him. We didn’t have each other’s phone numbers. It was a silent barrier that we kept, just like we didn’t hang out in public even when we went to the same high school. Our meetings were private, semi-secret things, because as much as some people knew about it, our relationship was a secret. And by relationship I meant this abstract, mystical, unknowable thing, one that weighed in my chest the more I didn’t see him, and that made me feel like I’d inhaled helium when I did see him again.
In any case, we were laying down, laughing. We were catching up on the things we’d missed, making saccharine comments, and overall I was trying my best not to look too much like the sight of his face was the best thing of my week. My month.
We were closer than ever before, his T-shirt tickling the skin of my arm. The familiar smell of his clothes, paired with the glint in his eyes had me feeling dizzy and happier than I’d ever confess to being.
I was feeling bold with the relief of seeing him again, so that was why, on a whim, I made the mistake of leaning in, reaching for his jaw, and putting my lips against his.
It had barely been a kiss, but it had made me burn all over. Our breaths shuddered between us, Antony suddenly very quiet and very still, but he didn’t even try to move when I went in again for a second one.
One that tugged a small sound I’d never heard before from him. One that went straight to my cock.
And one that ended with the sharp push of Antony’s hand on my shoulder.
I’d been shocked. His eyes had been wide. Antony cleared his throat and sent a look into the house, where there were sounds coming in from the open French doors.
We had company.
The sight of none other than Connell Campbell came to greet us a second later.
Antony left with a murmured excuse.
I was left there, heart harder and colder than stone.
A part of me had wanted to believe he’d only left because he was embarrassed, but then, after a short but poignant fight with my father, his words had hit a nerve.
I still remembered the pity in my father’s voice when he said ‘He’s not for you, Henry. He never will be.’
Antony was too good for me.
And I was a spiteful, rebellious, chaotic mess.
It was what made me decide to stop talking to him.
And it was what now reminded me that this silly spying business couldn’t keep going.
I was going to invite Antony into my life with one purpose only: get rid of him. Have him stop plaguing my thoughts by realizing that I’d build him up in my head, that he was just a normal guy like any other, and that my attention would be better off moving on to more interesting things.
I needed to get my shit together.
I needed this crushing longing to stop.
So with that, I stepped away from the dusty shelves and left the library.
Chapter 6
Antony
If I was offered a penny for every time I thought about Henry Campbell, I would probably be a rich man by now. Especially today, in which every hour, every lecture felt like torture, forcing myself to pretend to listen and not daydream about him like a lovesick idiot.
But it was hard. And how couldn’t it be? It had been the first time I’d seen him in months. The scent of his fruity shampoo had been strong, enveloping me in a nostalgic hug that made my throat thicken with emotion, and his naked chest?
Don’t get me started.
Not to mention he’d been with that Maddox guy.
I scowled at the memory. Making my way to the frat house under the fading orange sunlight, I reminded myself for the hundredth time that this was all business. This was me meeting Henry with the intention of helping him, on his father’s wishes, figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Well, that was probably my interpretation of the task, but the point was moot.
It was still business.
Connell wanted Henry to get his shit together, and I thought that meant finding his own path in life, not the one Connell wanted for him. He would see that was for the best when the time came, or at least, that was what I hoped.
I didn’t come here to reconnect with Henry, even if my heart lurched at the thought. A part of me wanted so badly to just wipe the last three years away and pretend nothing had happened, it made my chest hurt. The other one knew better than to hope. Because even if that day hadn’t happened—even if that kiss hadn’t been the beginning of our ruin, our friendship would have eventually ended anyway. There was no world in which popular playboys like Henry befriended uptight wallflowers like me long-term. And having to witness the slow but steady demise of what once had been such a bright spot in my life…
It would have broken me anyway.
So it was better like this. And, well, having to see Henry more often would even help to battle the nostalgia, helping me see there were no more feelings there, that what was lost was gone and would never come again. We were different people with different paths and it was just the way things were supposed to be.
With that in mind, I knocked on the white front door.
Adam, the guy from this morning, was the one to greet me again. He was blond, handsome, and built like a jock, but carried none of the arrogance I assumed one would carry as he sent me a greeting grin.
“Oh, Henry’s friend. Come in.” He stepped aside as I walked through the potted plants and into the frat house.
There was more movement now, with guys laying in couches, not sparing more than a glance our way, and loud voices laughing in the kitchen. It must have been ever-entertaining to live in a place like this, even if it probably would be a nightmare for someone like me. I liked my privacy and my quiet, thank you very much. The only people I tolerated nowadays in my low-energy times were Eliot and Scott, and we’d had a lifetime to get used to each other, so it made sense.
“I’d never heard of you before, have you been friends with Henry for long?” Adam asked me as we stepped further into the house.
“Long enough,” I said, trying to see if I caught sight of the devil—or the King—himself.
He stopped by the stairs. “Are you a secret ex or something?”
Was I?
Definitely not.
Even if sometimes it felt that way.
Instead of answering, I asked, “Does Henry know you’re asking so many questions?”
That shut him up quick, but he didn’t look mad at it. A smirk stretched on his lips, making him look mischievous and amused. “Sneaky, aren’t you? I see why our King likes you.”
He doesn’t, I wanted to say. He probably hated me, which was why he stopped talking to me three years ago in the first place.
The memory burned, still bitter.
Adam nodded upstairs. “He’s probably in his room. It’s the one at the end of the hall to the left.”
I gave him some murmured thanks and made my way there.
This wasn’t about the past. I was going to eat my feelings and dig them deep, where no one, not even me could find them. It was going to be okay, and it would be over soon. He was probably going to give me the most annoying task, and then—
There Henry was, coming out of a room.
But not his.
That was the one on the right, and the guy behind him was none other than Maddox.
The King’s Hellhound himself.
That wasn’t his nickname or anything, but it was what I thought he looked like this morning. With his inky black hair and penetrating blue eyes, he stared at me like I was shit under his shoe. Like he would send a laser through me and eliminate me from existence if he could. Like my mere presence offended him.
Not to mention he was Henry’s best friend.
The title sounded bitter even in my own mind.
Henry quickly caught sight of me and nodded. “Good. You can follow orders. This won’t be nearly as painful as I’d thought.”
“No spanking, then?” I asked, walking up to them, and feeling Maddox’s eyes try to bore a hole in my skull.
Henry’s eyes flared. “Don’t tempt me.”
My lips twitched, because if there was one thing I’d always liked, it was pushing Henry’s buttons. I hadn’t come here for this, it wasn’t the point, but once here? I just couldn’t help myself.
And if I felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the thought that I knew Henry, and I had for longer than Maddox had, no one needed to know.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Maddox said, resting his hand on his ajar door and thankfully wearing a T-shirt now. A black one with some band’s logo on it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t need any help trimming Henry’s toenails,” I said before I thought better of it.
Maddox glared at me. “You think you’re funny, smarty pants?”
“Oh, I know I am,” I replied with dripping sarcasm.
Henry quickly took hold of the back of my T-shirt, sensing the tension, and with a look Maddox’s way, he dragged me into his bedroom.
I closed the door behind us.
Henry gave me a look. “Do you have no survival instincts? Antagonizing Maddox is a bad move.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “I thought your cheek came out to play only for me?”
“I guess it just made an exception for the Hellhound you have as best friend,” I replied, sounding almost as bitter as I felt, and tried to detract attention from the fact by looking around the space.
Henry’s bedroom was well-lit and airy. It was now mostly in shadow, sunlight quickly fading, with a huge bed to the left and a long desk stuck to the wall on the right. It was also very much a mess, but not the kind that someone made when they didn’t clean regularly—this was intentional.
A mess he’d made just for me.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer.” Henry sat down on his desk chair and pointed to the rest of the room. “This is your playground for today. Make it presentable. Go cry about the mess to someone who cares.”
