Page 96 of Obsessed with the Heartbreaker

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? Afteryouput him between the sword and the wall?”

My father scoffed. “It was hardly ademand, 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 agood 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 willnot.”

“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?”

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