Page 22 of Obsessed with the Heartbreaker

“Why not? You love music.”

He used to talk about it all the time. All his favorite songs, his favorite bands. The rush he felt when he was playing the guitar.

Henry had, in fact, been in a band in his two first years of college, something I knew from his parents and from gossip, and secretly, I’d gone to seven of his gigs, hidden myself in the back corners of bars, and stood there, listening to him play the guitar, wishing we were still friends and I could congratulate him afterward.

They had disbanded almost two years ago now, though.

“People stop loving things all the time. I’ve moved on, it’s not a big deal,” he said, trying for lightness, but he didn’t fool me.

His words resounded inside me, like sad, harsh truths, not just about his music, but about us.

“Will you at least tell me what has you looking at the screen like you just sucked on a lemon?” I asked, because I justneededsomething.

Something I didn’t want to need.

Henry sighed. “It’s just fucking internship stuff. It’s driving me crazy.”

A truth.

It was a start.

“Why? I thought you didn’t…” I started and trailed off.

Because it was his father who had told me he hadn’t been planning on doing any internships.

Giving me a sideways look, Henry said, “You don’t have to pretend not to know. I know my parents talk to you and yours all the time, especially about our fights.”

Right.

I tried not to let the relief show.

“I thought you weren’t looking at internships.”

“Well, unlike my father wants to think, I don’t wish to remain a jobless blob and leech off his money all my life. So I am.”

“I don’t think that’s what your father thinks of you.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Well, he always showed a much nicer face to you, so that’s no surprise.”

I walked up to him until I was standing two inches away from his chair, his body heat reaching me. “You should give each other a break. He only wants what’s best for you.”

Henry’s eyes flashed up to me. “He only wants to look good in front of other people. What I want or don’t want means nothing to him.”

There was no point in arguing when he was this defensive. I picked up a loose paper sitting beside him on the floor and put it on his desk. “I could help you, you know? Consider the best options.”

“No, thanks.”

“You could also just tell me to do it, as your valet,” I tried, because this was important andthis was the point.

Henry eyed me suspiciously.

He didn’t get a chance to voice his opinions, though, because after the briefest knock, the door opened.

“King, guests are starting to arrive!”

Guests?

Oh no.

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