Page 1 of Obsessed with the Player

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Dan “stuck-up” James

I never thoughtI would ever find myself in a situation where coming to my nemesis for help would be the best option for me. In fact, if anyone had asked me two years ago, right before I graduated college, whether I would ever do it, I would have laughed in their face and said I would rather go live in a frat. It was the metaphorical equivalent of sticking needles into my eyes for me, since I was someone that appreciated personal space and had never gotten into the whole ‘college party’ thing, and yet here I was, coming to beg.

Because desperate times called for desperate measures, and never had I been in a more ridiculously desperate situation.

Twenty-four. Single for the first time in almost six years. Jobless. Not exactlyhomeless, since I was crashing at my best friend’s apartment (which he shared with my younger brother, his boyfriend), and I technically could go back to my parents’s until I got my feet under me again.

So, okay, I wasn’t in a desperate life-or-death situation, but I was so not willing to have my mother watching over me every step of the way, worrying about how I was doing after my breakup or about the so-called quarter-life crisis I was having, so all it left me was to take the help where it was given and suck it up.

It just so happened that the help was coming from none other than Andy Jacobs, shameless player, ex-college boxer, nowsuccessful gym owner, who not only had a job for me taking care of the finances at his gym, he was also offering me a room in his apartment, which he had been conveniently hoping to rent.

I also shouldn’t forget to mention he was the bane of my existence, and had been on my blacklist ever since our eyes had first met in our second year of college.

This had to be a cruel joke from the universe. That was the only explanation why that cocky asshole that loved nothing more than to push my buttons every chance he got was my best-case-scenario option here.

And it also had to explain why it had gotten into my head that he was the only person that could help me with a slightly different matter—one I wasn’t even sure I would manage to speak out loud—but maybe I’d just gone insane.

Maybe that was it. Maybe I was going through a quarter-life crisis and I just needed to let things blow over before I made a terrible decision.

But I was already here, wasn’t I?

Waiting outside the cafe where I was supposed to meet with Andy, trying not to look like a creep as I attempted to gather enough courage to walk in.

The cafe was supposedly only two blocks away from his apartment, which happened to be in a stinkingly adorable neighborhood, with wide sidewalks, healthy trees lining the streets, and somewhere I would have actually wanted to live if given the chance. Which I wasnothappy about.

I would have probably preferred that Andy lived in a basement or a dungeon than someplace like this, because I was petty like that.

But none of that mattered.

I needed to give myself a pep talk and walk in—or leave.

Maybe crashing on my best friend’s (and brother’s) couch wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe the nightmarish possibility of hearing their sex noises didn’t have to be such a big deal. Earplugs had to be very good nowadays, right? Or headphones. Blasting death metal. Every night.

Just get over yourself and go in.

I paced around the block, hoping it would help with the tightening sensation in my gut.

It didn’t work.

Because the prospect of seeing Andy Jacobs for the first time in two years, knowing that I might have to start sharing an apartment with him, alife,did weird things to my insides that I had no plausible explanation for.

My stomach squirmed. Something in my chest fluttered. My heart raced behind my ribs. My throat tightened.

It had to be the hate. The annoyance that he awoke in me on sight. The tingling of irritation that I felt every time he looked at me, with those glacial blue eyes I still remembered all too well, or the grin he liked to send my way, like he wanted to turn me inside out, like he’d havesomuch fun doing it.

He was just so goddamnaggravating, with those broad shoulders, that easy gait that made it seem like confidence was his middle name, the ever-present flirty tone, and that sandy hair he always wore in a bun. He was a fucking modern-day Viking, one that would no doubt get into anyone’s pants if he got the opportunity, and I was so not going to be intimidated by him.

I just needed to get over the weird feelings he awoke in me, otherwise it would be torture living with him, even if I was only giving myself two monthstopsbefore I found something else.

Was I going in, or what?

He probably wanted me to humiliate myself in public as I asked him for the favor. It had to be why he’d asked us to meet here. He was probably brushing his hands, smiling like a crocodile expecting an easy meal. A meal ofpaybackand ego satisfaction.

And I would have to take it.

Because I needed him.

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