His Secret Obsession
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HIS SECRET OBSESSION
Childhood friend.
My flatmate, Lucas, is gorgeous, aloof, and barely tolerates me. We used to be childhood friends but everything changed in high school. Now our relationship is… complicated , to say the least.
High school enemy.
Now that I’m in university, I decide to put myself out there romantically. But when I get into my first relationship, there’s just one problem: Lucas hates my new girlfriend with a fiery passion.
University flatmate.
Whenever I mention her name or invite her to our apartment, he gets more pissed off. Whenever he sees us touch or kiss, he looks murderous. And soon I have to wonder…is Lucas jealous ?
Future lover?
When secrets start to unravel and betrayals come to light, I learn there’s more to Lucas than I ever realised. And perhaps the romance I’ve been seeking has been right in front of me this entire time.
is a friends-to-enemies-to lovers New Adult M/M romance with sexy scenes, a lot of jealousy and a guaranteed HEA.
An excerpt from :
Chapter 1:
Now
Tonight, I’m going on my first date. Ever.
We’re meeting at six and it’s now 5:30. I’ve changed my shirt three times. Ultimately, I decided to go with a plain navy shirt made out of stiff cotton that makes my shoulders look broader than they actually are.
My reflection stares back at me in the bathroom mirror. I’ve applied deodorant, washed my face, and shaved, but I don’t know what to do with my hair. It’s dark and choppy, which I like a lot because it makes me look edgier than I actually am (I’m the least edgy person I know). My older sister Jemima did it for free, so that’s a plus. But right now, strands of hair fall over my forehead, making me look like a kid.
I don’t want to look like a kid, though. I want to look cool.
“What are you doing?”
I jump. My flatmate and friend (frenemy? It’s complicated) pokes his head into the bathroom, his short, straight copper hair and grey eyes catching in the light.
“Nothing,” I tell him.
Lucas steps into the room, taking care not to bump his head on the doorframe. That’s how tall he is. In comparison, I’m only 165 centimetres — 5 foot 5. A fact he never lets me forget.
“Why are you all dressed up?” he asks.
“I’m not dressed up.”
“You’re wearing your favourite shirt.”
How does he know this is my favourite shirt? “Yeah, but it’s a casual shirt. I look casual… I do look casual, right?” I want to look like I’ve put in effort, but not too much effort. Like I care, but not too much. The last thing I want is to look desperate.
Lucas tilts his head as he appraises me, eyes dragging from the top of my head to the ends of my feet. “I s’pose. Maybe you just look dressed up to me because most of the time you look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’ve seen you pick up clothes off the floor and wear them too many times to count.”
“I only do that when they still smell clean! Besides, I’m saving on the water bill.”
“Saving on the water bill, huh? Then why do you take hour long showers every night?”
I flush. “They are not an hour long.”
He gives me a knowing look, a slow smirk spreading across his lips, and I feel my skin become hotter. Damn it. He knows what I do in the shower, doesn’t he? I wouldn’t be surprised — he must have needs too, after all. But I hope to god he doesn’t know exactly what I do in the shower. What method I use. There’s a reason I turn the water pressure up to full blast to drown out any noise.
Lucas leans one shoulder against the doorway and crosses his arms. “So, what’s the special occasion?”
I consider ignoring him, but I can’t help myself. “I’ve got a date,” I say, not bothering to suppress my smile.
Lucas blinks. “A…a what?”
“A date.”
He lets out a breathy laugh. “Sorry,” he says, brows coming together. “I must have misheard. For a moment, I thought you said you had a date.”
I turn around, take two steps towards him and punch him in the stomach. Unfortunately, his abdomen is solid muscle, so my fist doesn’t do much.
“Don’t be a dick,” I tell him.
“How’d you convince her to go out with you? Did you bribe her? Kidnap her? Threaten to kill her family?”
“Shut up.” I return to the front of the bathroom mirror and wet my hands in the sink. “I know you think I’m hideous looking, but I’m capable of getting a date, you know.”
“I don’t think you’re hideous looking,” he says.
I run my damp fingers through my hair in an attempt to style it. “You called me ugly all the time in high school. Remember when I went to Year 10 formal without a date, and you laughed at me and said, quote, ‘Not surprising with a face like that’?”
Lucas rolls his eyes. “That was back in high school. Everyone was an asshole in high school.”
“I wasn’t an asshole,” I counter.
“No, you weren’t.”
I pause. Is this one of the rare instances where Lucas is actually sort of nice?
“You were a wimp who let everyone walk all over you,” he finishes.
I exhale slowly. I don’t want to think about high school, not now and preferably never again. “This is a riveting chat and all, but I’m busy. Mind leaving me alone?”
He doesn’t go, which I should’ve expected. Lucas doesn’t listen to anyone. “So, how’d you meet the chick? I’m assuming it’s a chick.”
“Yes, she’s a she,” I reply. “Her name’s Cleo. I met her on a dating app. She goes to our university and studies communications.” I push my hair back, but my fringe flops back in place.
“She taller than you?”
“No, she is not. She’s really nice, and she likes reading, too.”
“Everyone likes reading,” Lucas says.
“Yeah, right. I bet you haven’t picked up a book since English class last year.” I run my hands under the tap and use more water to style my hair. A fat droplet slides down a strand of hair and plops into my left eyeball.
Lucas chuckles. “You look like you just went swimming.”
I glare at him in the mirror’s reflection, but I can’t argue. My hair looks too saturated.
With a grumble, I grab a hand towel and rub it over the top of my head. “Why are you still here? Stop watching me like a creep.”
Instead of going away, he approaches, moving further into our tiny bathroom, until he’s behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He snatches the towel from my hands. “Let me do it,” he says. Before I can react, his fingers comb through my hair. The feeling of his fingertips dragging over my scalp makes my spine tingle, and I let out an involuntary shiver.
Wow . I can see why cats and dogs like being patted so much. It feels nice. When I get a girlfriend, I’ll ask her to play with my hair like this.
Lucas massages my hair a little more, making it look natural, messy but not too messy, then opens the cabinet behind the mirror. From the top shelf, he pulls out a circular tin.
“What’s that?” I ask, as he unscrews the lid and dips his fingers inside.
“Hair wax. It’ll keep your hair in place.”
“I didn’t know you had that.” I look into the cabinets pretty much everyday, and they’re not that big either. Lucas and I are living on a budget so the apartment we rent is tiny, and that includes a minuscule bathroom.
“That’s because you’re not very observant, are you?”
I bristle. I’m plenty observant.
“Do you style your hair with wax?” I ask.
He wears an expression of concentration as he works the product into my hair. “I don’t use it that often. Only on special occasions.”
“So how do you usually do your hair, then?”
“Most of the time, I just wake up and brush it a bit.”
Of course he does. Everything comes naturally to Lucas. He’s never had to try. I bet that with his (as much as I hate admitting it) conventionally attractive face and tall, lean body, he could show up to a bar wearing a garbage bag and still have women fawning over him.
After another minute, Lucas pulls his hands away. Immediately, I miss the feeling of his fingertips rubbing against my head, but I’m distracted by how my hair looks. He’s pushed my bangs back and to the side, and I look…suave. Like a budget James Bond. Nerdy university student by day, ruthless spy by night.
“There,” he says. “You look good.”
My eyes flick to meet his in the mirror. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.”
Some of my nervousness about the date ebbs away. I feel good. I look good. Everything will be fine.
I check my phone — 5:45. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” I rush out of the bathroom and hurry to the front door.
Lucas follows me, watching as I pull on my shoes.
“Wish me luck,” I say as I’m leaving, and the door slams shut behind me before I can hear his response.
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