Page 8 of Obsessed with my Temptation

But I was used to it at this point.

I’d walked thirty minutes to my parents’ house last night on a whim instead of going back to the dorms with Antony and his friend Oliver. I hadn’t wanted to go back to my room, with a snoring roommate to make my misery even more sour.

Of course, I’d told Antony nothing about what had gone down with Travis.

I’d barely processed it myself.

“Eggs and bacon?” my father asked from the stove.

“And pancakes, if you have them.”

I was miserable, but I was hungry.

My mother skimmed the local news on her tablet, glasses perched low on her nose. “You should invite your friends to come by next time, too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Eliot and Antony.”

My mother adored my best friends, but really, one had to be a very bad person for her not to like them. She was the definition of sunshine personality.

“I’ll tell them, don’t worry.”

But it would have to be when Eliot wasn’t too busy boning his boyfriend and when I wasn’t all torn up about the secrets eating me from the inside out.

“Eggs, bacon and pancakes for our Prince,” my father said, putting a plate in front of me with a cheesy bow. “His highness needs to be well fed for his brain to function properly.”

I groaned.

“Dad, don’t start you too.”

They were endlessly amused by the fact that people called me a Prince in my college. They were, like good parents, so proud of having such an outstanding son.

If they only knew that I felt nothing like that.

Or, at least, not all the time. I was used to putting on my ‘Prince’ suit. I knew what was expected of me—good grades, charming personality, a nice smile for everyone. Going to parties when I had time to socialize, going on cute dates with my girlfriends. There was something comforting about this clear set of rules I had to follow. Expectations I knew I could fulfill.

And if sometimes it grated, no one needed to know.

I was who I had to be with most people—and I was my true self with my friends.

My mother put her tablet down along her glasses, tugging on my sleeve so I sat beside her on the breakfast table, and patted my cheek.

“You’re looking a bit gaunt, Scott, and you’ve been acting off lately. It hasn’t been that long since you broke up with Riley, too. Are we not allowed to fuss over our boy?”

I thought my parents suspected that I didn’t feel too bad about my breakup. Their spidey senses were tingling, warning them that something was off, but they didn’t know what, thank God, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“College life is tough, Mom.” I picked up my fork and set myself to dig in. “Studying long hours and going out late will do that to a person, I’m not invincible.”

“You say that, but I don’t think that’s it.” She took a sip of her mug of tea, watching me closely with blue eyes that resembled mine. “I think you need a breath of fresh air.”

I waited for her to elaborate.

Because I did need it—just maybe not in the way that she meant.

“Now that you have more free time, perhaps you should fill it up with something new—something that’s fulfilling and good for the soul, you know?”

“I heard from a friend they’ll be doing a charity event at your college soon,” my father said, taking a seat opposite us with his own plate on the table.

“That sounds good, doesn’t it?”

My mother’s enthusiasm was a bit much.

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